John took a second to read over the document while Mr. Peterson massaged his neck. It was hard to focus, but the NDA looked pretty standard. He wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone about the people he met inside the club, or even discuss the club’s existence.
John scribbled his signature on the dotted line and then handed Max his driver’s license. Max copied it and stapled the copy to the NDA, nodding at Mr. Peterson.
“That’s all I need. The NDA is valid for all future visits.”
“Thank you, Max,” Mr.Petersonsaid. The low rumble of his voice made John’s spine tingle. He almost stumbled when Mr. Peterson started pushing him forward; the muscular man guided him past the reception desk and into the club.
However John had expected his night to go, being manhandled into a fetish club by an impossibly attractive werewolf was not it.
He wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
***
