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my shirt on my way into the club.
    Fucking euphoria instantly thrums through my veins and I fucking love it. This is exactly what I needed. I feel alive for the first time in… Well shit, since the last time I was here.
    See if I try to avoid the caged beast inside me again. You won’t. Because I’m fucking done denying myself this. Finished.
    I look around the club’s main floor interior as I head toward the bar. The walls are covered in black satin with chains embedded every foot or so, each chain reaches the ceiling before it’s strung to meet in the middle of the club where an enormous crystal chandelier hangs.
    Black and off-white leather chaise lounges with low tables holding several tea lights are scattered throughout this area of the club.
    And because I was so fucking antsy to get here, to get Stella flushed out of my system I’m one of maybe twelve occupants on this early Friday night.
    I order a scotch and unbutton the cuffs of my shirt before rolling them up my forearms. I nod when the bartender slides the crystal tumbler of scotch in front of me.
    “Wes, what’s up, man? Long time.”
    Shit! I don’t know this guy’s name. Joe? Jon! It’s Jon, I think…
    “Yep, been a while. Paul in yet?” I ask before sipping my drink.
    “Let me check for you.” He heads over to a phone at the far end of the bar and speaks to someone before heading back in my direction.
    I raise my empty tumbler before he can speak, “Hey, bud. Mix me another, yeah?”
    “Wes it’s a two drink maximum,” He looks at his watch, then back up at me and asks, “You sure you wanna blow through both before nine?”
    My eyebrow shoots up, “The fuck’d I say?”
    “All right, man. It’s your call. Paul’s headed down by the way.”
    Oh shit yeah.
    I rub my hands together like a kid in a candy store before I turn to face the club.
    “Here ya go, man.”
    “Yep.” I say grabbing the tumbler and turning back around to face the club. Thankfully a few more patrons have recently shown up.
    Women in their business suits with men kneeling at their feet.
    Men in their business suits with women kneeling at their feet.
    There are a couple of Doms taking it overboard wearing a cape and shit… Yeah, they don’t have a sub kneeling at their feet.
    I’m chuckling at my inner musings when Paul walks up to me.
    “Wes. How are you friend?” We shake hands and I smile looking towards club.
    “Doing good, Paul. You?” I jerk my head motioning at the club. “Business is doing great I see. Place looks great.”
    My eyes scan the area noting the recent renovations.
    And come to a screeching halt as they land on Stella Jolie Reese.
    “What the FUCK is she doing here?” I realize too late that I’ve asked the question out loud.
    Paul’s eyes follow my line of vision and land on the two women and guy that have walked in with Stella.
    “Oh, that’s Eve Arras, she’s here for the Jacques’ Boudoir magazine shoot.” He sips from his tumbler of bourbon, “I believe Eve was the center fold of the lingerie add. Not sure though.”
    “Really, Paul? So, you just let vanillas float around your establishment amongst the people living the lifestyle, and for no other reason than because they hit the center fold of a lingerie add?” I sigh setting my drink down.
    “Oh, no.” Paul shakes his head before reiterating, “They go no further than the main bar area.”
    “What’s allowed here? I mean—Shit.” I curse. I want Stella out of here. She has no damn business being in a club like this.
    This entire fucking shit is absolutely absurd!
    And dammit if Jon was fucking right. I shouldn’t have used up my two drinks so early . FUCK!
    “You ready to meet the subs?” He extends his arm in a ‘right this way’ motion.
    My eyes shoot back over to where Stella and her model friends are laughing, having just a fucking grand ol’ time.
    “Hey! The brunette goes nowhere. You fucking understand me, Paul?” I demand as I point in Stella’s