Leather & Lace: Trident Security Book 1 (5 page)

A short time later, after Jake and he ordered a couple of burgers, his teammate let him know he caught at least part of Devon's conversation with Kristen. Keeping his eyes on one of the TV's over the bar, Jake let out an amused snort. "So, hell must have frozen over, huh?"

Devon frowned at the other man. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means Devil Dog, in all the years I've known you, I can't recall you ever having a vanilla date with a woman, complete with dinner at a fancy little restaurant. The most effort I've seen you put into seducing a woman was buying her a drink while you negotiated a scene and found out her soft and hard limits."

"Fuck you, jackass," he retorted without any real heat, considering everything the man had said was true. Instead of admitting it though, he lied, "I've been on plenty of dates before."

Jake didn't respond but gave Devon a look which said he knew his friend was blowing smoke out his ass.

"Besides, you're not one to talk, Reverend. When was the last time you went out on a date, huh?"

Devon was astonished as his buddy grinned and turned beet red at the same time.

"You're dating someone?" He couldn't believe it. His eyes went wide with shock. "How did I not know this? It's not anyone from the club is it?" Jake Donovan didn't do relationships any more than the rest of them did, maybe even less.

Jake shrugged and then sighed. "Yes, I'm dating someone. No one knew until now because it's only been a few dates. And no, it's not anyone from the club and before you ask, no you don't know him."

As curious as Devon was, he knew he wouldn't get anything more out of his buddy. He was surprised the man revealed as much as he did. So instead of asking more questions, he raised his soda glass in a gesture of good luck. "Well, here's to you my friend. I hope it works out for you. And if it does, there may be hope for the rest of us."

Jake touched his glass to Devon's and chuckled. "I wouldn't go that far, brother, because if that happened, hell
would
definitely freeze over."

Kristen couldn't believe she was here. She could imagine her ex-husband’s expression if he knew she was standing outside a private BDSM club with the intention of going inside. She found out about The Covenant from one of her Beta-readers who helped proofread her novels. Although they had never met, she chatted with Shelby Whitman, a member of the club, through Facebook and email. When Kristen mentioned wanting to see the inside of a sex club for research, the woman put her in touch with the owner, Master Mitch, who after several phone conversations and a background check, had finally agreed to let Kristen tour the facility while it was closed.

When they'd scheduled the appointment, the Dom had been adamant that she come alone and leave her phone in her car. She'd balked at being in a strange place with a strange man with no way to call for help and he'd relented, but asked her to keep it off while in the club. His clientele valued the club's privacy and he would not put that at risk for anyone. Kristen was fine with his reasoning, but also told the man she would let her cousin know who she was meeting and where, for her own safety. She didn't want to be one of those women she saw on the news every once in a while who disappeared without a trace.

When she arrived a few minutes ago, she thought she'd gotten the directions wrong. After exiting the highway where Master Mitch told her to, she followed the side road past a small forest of trees. The area then opened back up and she found herself looking at a large piece of property surrounded by a security fence topped with barbed wire. Behind the fence, there was a row of four warehouses reminding her of an industrial park. Another portion of fencing separated the first two buildings. Once Kristen pulled her car up to the security shack next to the gate to find out where she made a mistake in the directions, she discovered she was indeed in the right place. The cordial but armed guard checked her driver's license and took a digital picture of her before he opened the gate and pointed to where she should park. He indicated she should take an awning covered staircase at the near end of the first building to the second-floor main entrance.

Parking next to the building, she looked at the blue metal and cement monstrosity and had a difficult time imagining this was the outside of an elite and private club catering to people's individual sexual fetishes. Now, shaking her head in disbelief, Kristen climbed out of the car and locked the door before shutting it. She took one step then she froze at the sound of a dog barking. Looking around, ready to jump on the hood of her car if she had to, she spotted a large black lab-mix running back and forth, and was thankful it was on the other side of the second fence. Despite his loud greeting, he appeared friendly but she wasn't taking any chances by approaching the barrier between them.

"Hi boy, good doggie. Stay on your side of the fence, okay? Good boy." she cooed in what she hoped was a soothing tone as she dashed to the stairs.

When she reached the doors, she found them locked but located a doorbell and pressed it. As she waited, she took in her surroundings again and realized there was no signage indicating a place of business on any of the buildings and fences. She also couldn't remember seeing any signs at the highway exit or on the side road leading to the complex other than a street sign which read Fairwood Drive. Curious, she wondered what was in the other three buildings. There were a few cars parked next to the second one but she didn't see anyone other than the one guard. She also noticed several security cameras, some on the buildings, including the one above the door she stood in front of, and others atop some of the nine-foot fence posts. It was a little over-kill to her but what did she know.

The door opened and she was greeted by a handsome man, whom she guessed to be in his early thirties. “Hi, Ms. Anders? I’m Master Mitch. It’s nice to meet you.”

She would be embarrassed to admit, he wasn’t what she expected, which was an older, brooding, vampire-like looking man, dressed head to toe in leather. Instead, he reminded her of her high-school math teacher who all the female students had crushes on. About six-foot-one, he had dark brown hair with gentle brown eyes. His easy smile was framed by a trim goatee and mustache, which might be adding a few years to his age. Instead of being dressed in black, he was wearing a navy blue golf shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. It was obvious he kept himself in shape, maybe by running and playing sports because he didn't have the bulked-up look weight lifters did. Despite his pleasant demeanor, she could imagine him transforming into a commanding Dom with submissives dropping to their knees to please him.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

He stepped aside so she could enter and she was amazed how the outside of the building belied its interior. They were standing in a lobby which was decorated in a Victorian-era style. It was just large enough to contain a hotel style check-in desk, and a comfortable sitting area. The walls were painted a deep red while the carpet was complementing grey. On several walls were paintings which some might call pornographic, but Kristen thought they were sensual and erotic. The space was separated from the main club by a set of large wooden doors which she swore once graced an old European castle somewhere. The dark wood was beautiful with intricate carvings and round wrought iron pulls.

Before Master Mitch allowed her through the doors, he took a moment to convince himself she was not taking any pictures or recordings of his business. He then gave her a privacy contract to sign, stating it protected his business and clients, and was legal and binding, having been drawn up by the club's lawyers. After she read and signed the paper, he took it from her and handed her several others.

"I thought these would help you with your research. The top two pages are general contracts which some members use when negotiating a temporary relationship between Dominant and submissive which is going to last more than one or two nights. Usually the contract indicates both parties agree to play for a certain amount of time, such as a week or a month and what the play will consist of. At the end of the agreed upon time, both parties go their separate ways."

"Isn't a contract a little cold?" There was little she could do to hide the cynical tone in her voice, or her shocked expression.

He tilted his head as he thought about her question–a contract could seem cold to someone not familiar with the lifestyle. "You have to understand something. Although there are couples here who are married or in long-term relationships, there are many others who aren't looking for anything other than something temporary. This way there's an end date and there is no awkward quote-unquote breaking up at the end of the relationship."

Kristen nodded, writing a few notes in the notebook she brought with her. She understood what he was saying but wasn't sure if she could ever sign a contract to have sex with a man that included a deadline stating when they would stop seeing each other.

"The other papers are the club's rules, a list of protocols which submissives are expected to follow and a long list of BDSM activities. Submissives fill out the checklist with their hard and soft limits or red and yellow limits as some people call them. Do you know what those are?"

Before she wrote
Satin and Sin
, she did a lot of internet searches on every aspect of BDSM she could find. She was far from an expert on the subject but she knew the basics. "If my research was correct, hard limits are something a submissive has no desire to try, things which are a total turn off for them. Soft limits are things they're curious about and might be willing to try but they've never done them before or if they have, they haven't made up their mind on whether they want to do it again."

"Correct. And after they try one of their yellow soft limits, they tend to move it to the green, okay activity column, or the red, hard limit column. There are some activities which only appeal to a select few, while there are others that pretty much everyone is into. Submissives' hard and soft limit lists are available here at the front desk for the Doms to look at so they know who would be receptive to a certain activity. On the checklist, the starred activities are not allowed in the club at all."

Kristen cocked her head. "Such as?"

"Such as fire-play and anything involving blood, urine or feces, among a few other extreme activities."

"Eewww." Kristen winced. She had read about body fluid play on the internet and the thought of it still grossed her out.

He smiled and laughed at her reaction. If she had met him anywhere else she would have a hard time believing he was a Dom. Despite his age, the man had a boyish charm to him.

"Exactly! I'm with you. Body fluid play does not appeal to me at all, but believe it or not, there are some people who get into it. Along the same subject line, every client must have a physical and blood work with one of our doctors every six months in order to keep their play privileges, and vaginal and anal sex without condoms is forbidden in the building, even between long-time partners.

"Let's see, what else can I tell you? Um...oh, we have a bar and alcohol is restricted to two drinks if members are planning to play. The bartenders have a computer program to track how many drinks have been served to a member. The same program is used to bill the members each month so they don't need to carry any cash, just a key card. It's similar to what's used on cruise ships. The waitresses and security have handheld computers which track the same information and it's checked before a member is allowed to enter any play area, public or private. The same program is used to flag a member who is overdue for a physical."

Master Mitch continued to talk as Kristen scribbled in her notepad as fast as she could. "Every once in a while a client will ask to bring a guest. It's only allowed after a background check of the guest and they're not allowed to play at all while on the premises, unless they have been cleared by one of our staff doctors. It takes a few weeks before a guest is cleared so it's not something which can be done on the spur of a moment. The client who invited the guest is held responsible for them and cannot leave them on their own. Guests are given a yellow wristband so the Dungeon Masters and security know who they are. All clients have gone through extensive background checks and every few months their names are checked for any arrests or dealings with the police which may concern us, such as a domestic violence call at their house."

She looked up from her notes. "Wow. Isn't it a lot of work for you?"

"Well, we have a security company which does it for us, but it's necessary to keep our clients safe."

"Any other rules?" she inquired, finding the information he was giving her fascinating. There was plenty of data on the internet but sometimes it took a live person to help you understand a subject to the fullest.

"Well, it's obvious you've done some research on the topic, right? So you know what a safe-word is, correct?"

She nodded. "If a submissive uses their safe-word all play comes to an immediate halt."

"Right. We use color safe-words here so there are no misunderstandings between our members, the Dungeon Masters and security. If a sub uses a different safe-word and a Dom doesn't heed to it, a Dungeon Master may not know there's a problem. Red means stop, yellow means to slow down or pause to clarify an issue, green means they're good to go. Failure to heed to a safe-word is an automatic three month suspension of play privileges and a second offense results in termination of membership. But we've never had to terminate anyone."

Satisfied she would adhere to the privacy contract she signed, he finally opened the left wooden door and gestured for her to walk in ahead of him. Three steps past the threshold, she stopped short in complete awe of the fantasy land before her. The second floor where they stood, consisted of an extra wide balcony in the shape of a horseshoe overlooking the main floor below. To her left, there was a large curved bar following the lines of the horseshoe bottom. The two long opposite sides of the balcony contained many sitting areas similar to the one in the lobby. High above the sitting areas were horizontal tinted windows which let light in during the day and he told her the inside of the club couldn't be seen from outside at any time. Along the brass railings there were stools and pub tables where people could sit and observe what was happening below them. About twenty feet in front of the bar was a grand staircase, with brass banisters, leading downstairs reminding Kristen of the one her wedding party had taken pictures on at the hotel where her reception was held.

At the opposite end of the building, where the horseshoe ended was a wall with two doors, one glass and the other wood. Master Mitch explained the glass door belonged to a small store where they sold a variety of sex toys and fetish wear. The other door was to a hallway leading to the business offices and an emergency exit. The locker rooms were located right below the bar. There was an entrance next to the double exit doors, with a short hallway and two sets of stairs leading to the women's and men's locker rooms. Members could also enter the rooms from the main floor.

As they walked further into the club, his cell phone rang. Taking it from the holster at his hip, he looked at the screen. "I apologize but I have to take this. Please have a seat at the bar and I'll be with you in a moment." He placed the phone to his ear and stepped a few feet away from her. "Hey, Ian, what's up?"

She did as he asked and took a seat while skimming through the paperwork he gave her. She never realized how involved the lifestyle was–contracts, lists, protocols, rules. It was a wonder anyone had time for sex. Although he'd said a negotiation between Dom and sub was a common part of BDSM, she couldn't help but think it was all so clinical, like going to her GYN for her annual physical.