Page 123 of Líadan's Code

Jordan refuses to let me come, but leaves me a puddle of need nonetheless.

“You’re supposed to be dressed,” Brendan says, smirking when he sees me sprawled across the sheets. “Chop chop, guys, or we’ll be late.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m in the car with them as Jordan drives to Club Fallen Stars in Chicago, which was the previous home of Daddy’s depraved excuse for a sex club. There was no consent there, and auctions ran regularly out of it.

My lips twist in disgust as I remember the stories I’ve been told about it, happy it no longer exists.

I gutted the inside, using Rory’s services to completely redo the interior. His guys happen to be amazing carpenters as well as construction workers, and I paid them handsomely for the work.

They all said they’d be more than happy to do any further work for me.

The main area of the club is a bar and dance club, with live music that Jordan hooked me up with. While he’s stepped down from Music Horde Records, they’re still willing to book their artists with us.

We have different bands playing for the club throughout the week for the next three months to see how it goes, and then we’ll evaluate if we want to continue.

The bands playing range from larger names to smaller ones trying to get their name out there. As long as they signed our paperwork and understood our terms, they’re welcome to play for my club.

Jordan parks the car in the employee parking lot, though I can see the main door where the bouncer is standing. As this is a member only establishment, I didn’t want to make our opening a big deal.

Every member was given an arrival time so they wouldn’t have to wait in a line, keeping people’s anonymity as well. The club doesn’t open for another twenty minutes, so the parking lot is deserted.

While we aren’t enforcing masks to protect their identities, people are more than welcome to wear them. We also tell everyone that real names do not need to be exchanged either, and people were told them during their orientation and paperwork.

Getting out of the car, we head toward the side door, where another bouncer opens the door for us.

“Hey, boss,” he says to me with a nod as we walk through. While Brendan, Jordan, and I run the club together, they insist that this is my baby.

“Hey, Norman,” I murmur as he follows us down the hall. I hired him on a recommendation from Mickey, and he’s incredibly respectful, but will also fuck someone up if anyone steps out of line.

“Anything happen that I need to know about?”

“No, ma’am,” he says. “Things are set up, everyone is where they need to be. We’re good, though I know you’re going to want to check the floor anyway.”

My lips twitch because he’s absolutely correct. My heels click across the floor, and Norman nods as he heads back to man the side door. Jordan and Brendan flank me as we walk into the main room of the club, allowing me to look around.

“Fuck, I’m never going to get over how gorgeous this is,” I mutter. A gorgeous chandelier glitters above my head with muted lighting, and I can see the beautiful textured black wallpaper on the walls. There’s also a bit of midnight blue threads in it.

The main bar takes up a solid wall, and it's a dark mahogany. Everything looks upscale, playing up to the mystery of the club. When someone enters the front, there’s a woman who will check their names again, handing them a color bracelet that will show the club if they want to play, are just watching, want impact play, etc.

Some people will wear a couple of bracelets for the night, and they can trade them out throughout the evening if they change their minds.

Consent can be given or taken away depending on the circumstances. We validate that completely.

Walking further into the club, I see the bartenders beam at me, and there is more security throughout the room. Instructors who will be doing demonstrations and scenes will be found upstairs, while there are private playrooms downstairs in the dungeon. There are more public areas upstairs and downstairs for those who enjoy exhibitionism as well.

There are members who enjoy blood play, the way I do, and we’ve set up special rooms for that. If anyone said on their questionnaire that it was a kink they wanted to practice, there are extra tests and conversations with the psychiatrist to ensure things don’t go too far. There are also cameras in all of the private rooms for extra monitoring.

Phones don’t work in the club, there is technology that I implemented to ensure that there’s just static. I explain to members that they’d be better off leaving their phones in their cars, because they’ll be no better than paperweights.

Since people want to let go, have a good time, and shed the responsibilities of the real world, they all tend to agree.

“Opening the doors!” calls out the woman at the front of the club, warning everyone to get into place.

“I’ll check the upstairs,” Jordan grunts, walking quickly.

“I got the dungeon,” Brendan says softly, squeezing my elbow as he walks away.

Taking a deep breath because I know everything is being handled that may need to be behind the scenes, I walk to the front of the club to greet people.

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