Page 3 of The Accidental Pleasure Dom

I know Kelly is sexually adventurous, but I never thought she would go to a sex club. I guess I don’t know her as well as I thought I did.

“They have guys there called Pleasure Doms.” When I don’t say anything, she continues, “You might not be ready to rid yourself of your virginity, but you are wound up too tight. You need a little sexual relief. That’s what those guys are for. Their only job is to give pleasure in numerous ways for numerous hours.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down with a half-smile playing across her lips. “I can get you a guest pass for one night if you want.” She shrugs, letting go of my arm, then walks towards the nurses’ station.

I chew on my lower lip. Maybe I should take her up on her offer. One of the reasons I have avoided a romantic relationship is that I’m inexperienced. If I had some practice with someone I would never have to see again, I could gain the confidence to seek out a relationship without feeling awkward.

It’s a crazy idea, but it might actually work. With a smile on my face, I run after Kelly before I change my mind.

“Kelly, wait up.” My shoes squeak on the newly waxed floor with each step I take in my haste to reach Kelly.

She stops and turns around, facing me with a huge grin on her face, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation.”

“You don’t have to be so smug about it, Kelly.” I roll my eyes, huffing out a breath.

Her smile widens as she puts her arm around my shoulders, “So, what are you going to have him do to you? Finger you? Eat your pussy? Maybe your ass too?”

My head snaps back, and I blink at her words, “I-I don’t know. I’ll have to do some research and come up with a list of what I want.”

Kelly barks in laughter, causing Claire and our other co-workers to look our way from the nurses’ station. “Oh, that’s priceless. I would love to be a fly on the wall when you pull out your list of expectations for the Pleasure Dom.” Wiping at a stray tear running down her cheek, she continues, “I can see it now. You may touch my pussy but not my ass. I will allow you to touch my breasts, but you may not pinch my nipples.”

I know Kelly is only teasing, but I’m not in the mood for her humor, “Just forget I said anything, okay.”

Holding her hands up in front of herself, she concedes, “Come on, Belle, you know I’m just yanking your chain. The only other person that needs this more than you is Claire.” She nods her head at Claire, who is glaring at us from her seat at the nurses’ station.

“I’ll text Greg and get everything set up for you. All you need to do is get yourself a sexy dress and wait for my instructions.” She starts to walk back down the hallway toward the nurses’ station, “oh, you might want to get waxed. You know, so he’ll have a nice clean plate to eat from.” She turns around with a snicker, and I feel my face heat up. “Don’t forget to finish your list.” She yells over her shoulder with a wave of her hand.

I stand frozen in the hallway, wondering what I got myself into, watching Kelly pull her phone from her scrub pants pocket sending a text message to someone I can only assume is Greg.

“What is going on with you and Kelly?” Claire tugs on my arm, pulling my attention from Kelly.

I was so lost in thought watching Kelly that I didn’t hear Claire's approach. “Um, nothing.” I stammer, not sure if I want to let Claire know what I’m going to do.

She continues to stare at me with her lips pursed. “Okay, fine. She is getting me a pass to a sex club.” I whisper, my eyes scanning the hallway, making sure we aren’t overheard.

“What!” She screeches, her eyes comically wide like a cartoon character.

I tug at her arm, pulling her closer to me. “Shh, keep your voice down. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal. This is Kelly we are talking about. Nothing good can come from anything she does.”

“I know, but I really want to do this. Please, Claire, I don’t need a lecture. I need my friend to support me in any crazy mess I get myself into.”

Claire steps back, crosses her arms across her chest, tilts her head to one side, and finally rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Fine, I don’t like it, but I will support you. I want all the details of the club and the guy when you meet him, so when you come up missing, I can tell the police something.”

I roll my eyes and smile, “Yes, mother.”

“Hey, you never know if someone is a kidnapper or a murderer.”

“You really need to lay off all those crime podcasts you listen to. They’re turning you into a conspiracy theorist. Not everyone is a bad guy.” I tease.

“Well, when you end up dead, you’ll be thanking me for helping the police find your killer.” She cocks an eyebrow, giving me a sly smile.

“In that case, I’d better thank you now since, you know, I’ll be dead.” We both laugh at our morbid sense of humor, but it comes with the job. When you work around death, you either have to adapt through humor or fall into depression.

I’ve seen too many nurses burn out from the stress of the job—the long hours, the death. It takes a toll on a person. Most of my co-workers have husbands or wives to go home to or children they transport from activity to activity, something else besides work.

I don’t have any of those things, so I end up working extra shifts and holidays, only having my spicy romance novels waiting for me at home after a long day at work. But I want the husband to come home to and cuddle with at night and the kids to chauffeur to basketball practice or gymnastics.

The first step to accomplishing my dream is getting over my fear of sexual incompetence. Once I’m more sexually sure of myself, I will have the confidence to date and find a husband.

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