He raises the tool and strikes the kneeling woman’s bottom softly, crossing each stroke like an “X.”
I join a small cluster of onlookers near the edge of the room. Just voyeurs. Like we’re standing around a campfire, watching the flames.
My body starts heating from the inside. Each of her moans echoes deep in my stomach.
“That technique’s called the helicopter, in case you were wondering,” a voice says beside me.
I turn my head.
That voice. Deep. Gravelly. Masculine as hell.
It soundsfamiliar.Too familiar. But no—no one I know would be here. I’m imagining things.
“And what’s that thing he’s using to, you know...strike her bottom?”
“Strike her bottom?” he repeats with a low laugh. “Well, aren’t you the most delicate person ever to set foot in a sex club.”
It’s agoodlaugh. Confident, unbothered. There’s a slight drawl, but I can’t place it. Local maybe. Or not. But he still seems... familiar.
He stands beside me, arms crossed. I can’t see his eyes, thanks to the full-face hood. But Icansee that chin—square, dimpled, strong. His arms are insane. Like, marble-statue insane.
“It’s called a flogger,” he finally says.
“Oh.” I flush. “I’m just curious. First time at one of these places.”
He turns his head toward me—maybe checking me out?
“Well,” he says, voice smooth and low, “happy to witness your sex club cherry being popped.”
Oh my God.
I can’t even respond. My brain short-circuits.
Before I can pivot the conversation, April and Maya appear, sliding between us like theyfeltmy awkwardness from across the room.
“Isn’t this place wild?” Maya says, eyes wide.
“Yeah, just... very open,” I mutter. I’m trying to play it cool, but I’mso farfrom cool. I’m in a whole different time zone from cool.
Still, I can’t stop watching the woman in the center of the room.
Her skin is creamy pale, and every strike brings a fresh flush of red to her cheeks. She grips the stool tightly, but her body arches with each impact.
The man lifts his arm again. This time, hewinds up, like a baseball swing.
Whap.
“Oh my gosh!”
Her moan vibrates through me.
That had to hurt.
But also… maybe it didn’t?
Another wind-up.
Whap.
