I mutter a curse under my breath.
“Come onnn,” Kayla begs, hitting me with her best puppy dog eyes. “It’ll be an experience!”
Experience. Ha. That’s the phrase people use to describe something they never intend to do again.
I glance around, half curious and half shitting bricks. Everywhere you look, there are people in leather or lace, getting their freak on in all sorts of ways. It’s overwhelming and a little intimidating. We pass a woman cradling a grown-ass businessman in latex underwear like he’s a giant baby.
“Are you pissed at me?” Kayla whispers, biting her lip.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I hiss, rolling my eyes theatrically. “Did you really expect me not to be? I know my social life has been boring of late, but you dragged me to a BDSM club. What did you think was going to happen?”
Her face falls. She looks like a scolded puppy. “Oh geez, you’re really mad then? Should we just leave?”
“No, we’re here now. Might as well see what happens I guess.”
An escape from my boring life for a few hours.
“Ladies, have you chosen which type of daddy you’ll be for the evening?” The hostess looks straight at me and Kayla with her piercing gaze.
I sputter, caught off guard. “Wait,I’mthe daddy?”
“Most of our daddies are women.” She smiles enthusiastically. “We encourage female empowerment here.”
Huh. Well, I should check my unconscious biases.
“What exactly are the different types of daddies?” I ask, my wariness making way for intrigue.
The hostess smiles. “We’ve got all sorts of flavors here, sweetie. Some like to coddle and nurture, while others prefer a firm hand and strict rules. Some like to be called ‘daddy’ or ‘mommy,’ while others prefer ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’” She winks. “It all depends on what kind of dynamic you’re looking for.”
I shift nervously as Brad chuckles softly near my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “And you’ll make a damn sexy daddy for me.”
My eyes widen and I spin around to stare at him. “I’m sorry, you actually wantmeto beyourdaddy here?”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, gazing at me with bedroom eyes.
I’m not sure how to feel about this. This is definitely not what I envisioned when I rolled out of bed this morning. But this seems to be the theme lately—my life taking wild, unpredictable turns I never see coming.
I clear my throat delicately. “I’m not . . . you don’t expect me to walk you around on like, a dog collar and leash or anything though . . . right?” I ask weakly, trying to wrap my head around this new development.
Brad just laughs. “That’s not really my thing. But I do enjoy a good spanking now and then.”
I nearly choke as Kayla mouths,Go with it! Are you okay if I leave you for ten minutes?
“What?!” I squeak in alarm. Okay, I’ve had three tequilas and a few glasses of wine with this guy, but I never signed up for this level of intimacy. It seems more intimate than anal.
The hostess sizes me up. “Shall we fit you with some dominatrix attire? A leather harness maybe, or thigh-high boots?”
“What?” I screech again, sure I’m being Punk’d.
“We’ll just take a whip for now,” Brad suggests. Like he’s picking out toppings for a pizza. This situation is spiraling so fast, I can barely keep up.
“How about we start with something a bit more vanilla? Like a drink at the bar?” I ask. “No need to bust out the whips and diapers just yet.”
Thankfully, Brad takes mercy on me. But not before grabbing a freaking giant pink whip from Mistress Hostess on our way to grab drinks. This is not your typical second date.
Kayla scuttles off to a secluded booth with Justin, shooting me a dramatic thumbs-up.
I shake my head at her like a judgmental nun.
