A s Carly followed Greta toward the bar, blood whooshed through her veins. She loved working, but this was different. She’d never combined kink with her career, nor had she imagined she’d be doing either with Ashton.
The entire first floor served as a mingling room. There were four beautiful sofas covered in an elegant fabric of muted reds, browns, and blacks. Each of the mahogany end tables boasted clawed wooden feet. Beautiful artwork of pastoral landscapes hung on the walls. Jazz streamed from invisible speakers while sweet vanilla wafted in the air. Soft light from three table lamps added to the sensual ambiance.
Several couples and a group of five spoke in hushed tones. Most wore clothing similar to what she and Ash wore; a few showed more skin. Only Greta and her bartender were unmasked. After the barkeep poured Greta a glass of red wine, he asked what they’d like.
“Two sparkling waters,” Carly replied.
“No wine?” Greta asked, before sipping from the goblet. “I have whiskey, vodka, whatever you’d like.” She eyed Ashton. “You look like a Martini man.”
“Just water tonight,” he replied.
Carly loved how he’d morphed into Mr. Black. His voice wasn’t just quieter it was deeper, too.
With glasses in hand, the three sat around a cozy round table. Relaxed and pleasant, Greta came across as someone who’d been in the business for a long time. Perhaps she’d been a madam. In what sounded like a canned speech, she touted the uniqueness and discretion of her club.
“I guard my members’ identities like a lioness protects her cubs.” Greta played with her bracelets. “Everyone here is family and, when they play here, they’re in a safe, clean environment. My wish is that my guests have an immensely erotic experience. I won’t lie, I talk with a lot of people eager to join, but I only accept a small percentage.”
Carly acknowledged her with a nod. “We’re looking for something different. I played in a club briefly, but prefer the ambience of a home environment. It’s more intimate.”
“And you?” Greta asked Ashton.
“When my beautiful wife’s erotic needs are met, so are mine.” The huskiness in his voice set her insides on fire while his words melted her. She so wished they were true.
As Greta continued talking, Carly flicked her gaze to him. The showman who had one volume—loud—had a stealth-like appearance. He moved nothing, except his eyes. And he had taken the chair which gave him the clear advantage…the one that put his back against the wall so he could watch everyone come and go. His quiet strength aroused her in ways she never imagined.
“Tell me about your sexual needs,” Greta said. “I want to make sure you’ll fit in.”
“I love the rush of being watched in a safe, secure environment,” Carly said.
“Ah, yes, Sinclair did tell me you’re an exhibitionist.”
“I am.”
“Very nice.” This smile touched Greta’s eyes. “I was, too, in my younger years. Nothing like the rush from an erotic experience in a roomful of spectators.” Greta’s gaze lingered on Carly. “What about rough play? Do you like role playing or dressing up?”
“No rough play. The other two are fun.”
“Didn’t Sinclair tell me you’re newlyweds?”
“We are,” she said as Ashton clasped her hand. Even though they were pretending, her heart fluttered.
“Most of my couples find mixing things up enhances their marriage,” Greta continued. “Are you open to playing with others?”
“No.” The intensity in his voice surprised Carly.
“I see.” Leaning back, Greta crossed her ankles. “Overly possessive, perhaps?”
“If playing with others is something you’d expect—” Carly began.
“I expect nothing,” Greta interrupted. “I offer the environment. My staff entertains with a show. Members are free to do what gratifies them. You’re both young, attractive. Sexual delights with others oftentimes enhance a marriage.”
Ash started to get up. “This probably isn’t the right environment for us.”
Greta pursed her lips.
Hell, no! Carly squeezed his hand. “Baby, before we rule this out, maybe Greta can show us around.”
“An excellent idea.” Greta rose. “Join me on a tour.”
