Page 29 of Pretty Little Thing

Judy greets me at the counter as I walk inside again. She flashes a wide grin, recognizing my face.

“So…” She leans forward, presenting her sizable cleavage over the rim of her corset — this one a deep scarlet red. “Have we changed our mind about the annual membership yet?”

I snap open my clutch to find my debit card. “Not quite,” I say, setting it down.

Her mouth pinches in disappointment but she snatches the card off the counter. “Well, next time we’ll get ya! I have a good feeling about you.”

I laugh, feeling a bit more at ease than the first night but my heart isn’t pounding any slower.

“We’ll see,” I say.

I lay my right palm on the counter and she stamps me again before firing off one more wink at me.

“Enjoy your stay,” she says, reaching over and unlocking the door.

A rising laughter greets me as I step inside. It stops me cold in my tracks but my heart resumes its drumline as I quickly realize that their chuckles have nothing to do with me. This isn’t a high school gymnasium, after all.

I look across the main floor, spotting a face I recognize at the center of attention. And by face, I mean mask. Roger, I believe. He must be telling some story because he’s has two entire couches of women enthralled. Lucky guy.

I’m mildly curious to know what story he’s telling but there’s a deep urge in me and it tugs me toward the stairwell.

I only saw a little bit a few nights ago.

I want to see more.

A man passes me on the stairs. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something to me but then his eyes fall to my neck. His head instantly snaps forward and he continues on without saying a word.

I touch the handkerchief around my throat and feel a hidden smile brush my lips.

A familiar grunt touches my ears as I reach the top. A bolt of excitement chills me as I gravitate toward it. It’s the same couple from that first night, only this time he’s tied her to a St. Andrew’s cross.

Heat ignites on my skin the moment I see the pink lashes on her bare back.

The crowd breaks apart as I move closer. The Dom slides her restraints free and her left arm drops to her side, almost completely limp. He wraps his arms around her, holding her up as he releases her other hand. Sweat tumbles from her brow, staining her cheeks. I pause. Maybe they’re tears.

He whispers in her ear, bringing that same loving smile to her lips. She stands up on her own and rests against him with her head on his chest.

I stay off to the side, watching as they slowly walk away from the cross toward the stairwell. They retreat up to the third floor.

I swallow hard.

Another couple takes their place on the cross. I think to stay and watch them but my feet carry me through the areas. I feel like a kid in a theme park, rushing from one attraction to the next, living and breathing the adrenaline rush. Floggers and belts. Leashes and chains.

My heart pounds for it.

“Ms. Payne.”

My stomach lurches. Panic takes me for a second but as I spin around and look up, I see Clive Snow staring down at me.

“Hey,” I say, holding my breath.

He bites his cheek. “I have watched you wander around this place for almost thirty minutes,” he says.

“You’ve watched me?” I repeat.

“You go from room-to-room but you don’t talk to anybody, you don’t play, you just... watch. Are you a voyeur?”

I squint. “No, are you?”

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