“Softness and sting,” I mumble, reading the tagline. Huh.
I whip around to Kayla. “What the hell, Kayla? When you said ‘immersive theater,’ I thought you meant audience participation. Not audience fornication!”
But before she can answer, Brad jumps in with a disapproving frown. “Nope, not happening. Kayla, this is not cool. You should’ve given Lexi a heads-up.” He shakes his head like a disappointed parent. “Lexi and I will find a normal bar.”
I grab Kayla’s arm and hiss, “You brought me to some BDSM club?!”
She winces and starts twirling her hair nervously. “So, surprise?” she squeaks out. “Sorry, I figured you’d bail if you knew, since you were already hard to convince for a normal girls’ night out.”
“Give us a sec,” I say to Brad, dragging her away from the guys.
She attempts what I guess is supposed to be an innocent grin. “But come on, it could be fun, right? A fresh experience to distract you from . . . well, you know.”
I cross my arms, unimpressed. “Ah yes, nothing like an unprepared wander through a sex club to get over the mistake I made with a client,” I reply flatly.
“Please don’t be mad,” she pleads, her hands clasped like she’s about to pray. “I just thought, maybe this would help pull you out of your slump. But we can leave if you’re really uncomfortable.”
I want to strangle her. I’m no prude, but a warning would have been nice before walking blindly into an apparent sex club. This is why you can never trust Kayla’s planning skills.
“I was expecting an immersive cinema experience,” I choke out. “Something more PG.”
Kayla bites her lip, eyes looking anywhere but at me. “Yeah, uh, this is clearly a misfire. I just wanted us to do something exciting for once. Remember our motto—be more adventurous?”
Brad comes over hesitatingly to break up our little feud. “Hey, Lexi, there’s a nice wine bar just around the corner we can hit up instead.”
I nod instinctively. “Yeah, okay that sounds . . .” But then something makes me pause. Some wild impulse fueled by tequila and maybe one too many clashes with Connor Quinn recently. It’s like a little devil pops up on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, “You’re such a bore. Live a little.”
“Actually, you know what?” I say, eyeing the club again. “Let’s do this. I’m in.”
Kayla, Justin, and Brad exchange wary looks. They spend the next five minutes trying to convince me out of it, but their disbelief only cements my decision. New Lexi tries new things. New Lexi is bold and daring.
I shrug. We’re already here. And honestly, some fun new memories would be awesome instead of replayingthatoffice moment on loop.
We step into a hallway decked out in hot-pink velvet. It’s like stumbling into Barbie’s dream dungeon. A hostess wearing a leather bikini and collar greets us enthusiastically.
My jaw drops as I see some girl strutting by with a dude on a leash. And he’s wearing a diaper. Like, what the actual fuck? I am beyond confused.
Brad leans in, still looking wary. “Hey, there’s no pressure to participate in anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“I know. Have you been here before?”
“A few times,” he says casually. “You cool with this?”
Honestly, I have no clue how I feel right now. Intrigued? Curious? Completely overwhelmed? “I’ll give it a go.”
“Welcome to the Velvet Whip, ladies,” the hostess announces with a seductive smirk. “First time here?”
“Yeah, first time,” Kayla pipes up with an anxious laugh. She darts her eyes my way, trying to gauge if I’m about to go nuclear on her.
“I take it you ladies are new to exploring daddy dynamics then?” our hostess asks brightly, leading us into a vivid pink room. There are things in here that I wouldn’t even know where to begin guessing their use. Holy hell.
I make a strangled noise. “I’m sorry—daddy dynamics?” I choke out. My eyes bug out taking in leather paddles, feathers, handcuffs dangling from the velvet walls. The air is thick withthe smells of leather, heavy perfumes, and god knows what else. People of all genders and orientations are scattered throughout the lounge, some in nothing but artfully arranged leather harnesses and chains.
I gape at the sight of a grown man sucking on a pacifier while getting spanked by a woman in leather.
“It’s the elite club for all your daddy kink needs in the city,” the hostess coos as a lady in latex cracks a whip over her partner’s ass. He seems into it.
I glance around anxiously, feeling completely out of my depth. Note to self—avoid eye contact with anyone currently sucking on an adult soother.
