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Dani hums, a sound that says she doesn't quite believe her. But she drops the subject, and the waiter arrives a few seconds later to take our orders.

As I sit there with these women, a sense of contentment and belonging washes over me. I've never been part of a group like this before, a group of strong, confident women who support and uplift each other. It's a new experience, but one that I'm quickly growing to love.

We spend the better part of the next two hours sipping on mimosas and chatting about anything and everything. Sarah and Dani talk about the school that they both work at while Audrey vents about some drama that’s going on at the store she manages. They ask me questions about my classes and what I have planned for the future. I’m not sure how to answer the last part, so I give a vague answer before leading the conversation back to them.

By the time we leave the restaurant, my head and heart feel lighter than they have in a while. I got both Sarah and Audrey’s phone numbers, and they’ve permanently invited me to their monthly brunch get-togethers.

Not only that, but the idea of going to Club Caliber has been lingering in my mind since they brought it up again, and I’ve decided I’m going to be brave and ask Mark about it as soon as possible. If I’m in the process of reinventing myself, I may as well take all the experiences I can get, right?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

MARK

This is a terrible idea. Seriously, how did I even get roped into this?

Because Claire’s sweet little pout made me crack after the third time she asked me to take her here, I remind myself.

"Are you sure you’re ready for this?" I ask her. "We can always come back another weekend."

"I’m ready," she answers, as if she didn’t just lose her virginity a couple weeks ago and that going into a BDSM club isn’t a big deal. She has a good poker face, I’ll give her that much.

The issue is, I’m not sure ifI’mready. I’ve never been nervous about walking into Club Caliber—it’s my happy place full of kinky fuckery, after all—but with Claire on my arm, my mind won’t stop spinning. What if she freaks out? What if she sees all this, hates it, and thinks I’m some sort of degenerate freak for indulging in it?

Realistically, I don’t participate much in the public aspects of the club; I enjoy meeting like-minded people here, having a couple drinks, and occasionally watching a demo. Usually if I hang around long enough I’ll run into one of my play partners, and we’ll both have some no-strings-attached fun until we happen to run into each other again.

Tonight’s different. As I watch Claire fill out the paperwork required for entry, looking sexy as hell in a little black dress that flares out at the waist, I wipe my clammy palms on my pants and will my heart to stop racing. I don’t even understand why it’s such a big deal to me—she and I are having fun, and I’m teaching her everything she wants to know about sex. That’s what we had agreed on in the first place, after all.

So why the fuck am I so nervous that she’ll hate this?

After Claire finishes her paperwork and the woman at the front desk gives her spiel, we walk through the second doorway into the club. Her arm is wrapped around mine, her small hand gripping on my bicep. I spot an empty couch on the far side of the room and lead her in that direction, eager to sit somewhere where she can take things in at her own pace. It can be overwhelming at first, even just here in the front lounge area. Out here, people still have to stay somewhat clothed and aren’t allowed to participate in anything more than you’d be allowed to at a normal club. However, things get alotmore intense in the back.

I sit on the couch, pulling Claire to the side so she falls onto my lap instead of on the seat beside me. The need to touch her, to claim her in front of all the eyes glancing in our direction, is overpowering. I want everyone to know she’s mine, and I’m not sharing.

My hand rests on Claire’s exposed thigh as she settles onmy lap, and her eyes meet mine. There’s no trace of disgust on her face like I had worried there’d be, only nervous excitement.

"While we’re here, ask me anything," I murmur in her ear. Goosebumps rise on her skin as I place a gentle kiss on her neck following my words. "I’ll tell you anything you want to know, and I don’t want you to be embarrassed about any of it, okay?"

She nods, her gaze slowly taking in the room around us. It’s still early in the night, so things are fairly tame for now. Claire’s attention catches on a couple in the corner—they’re regulars that I recognize from my many nights spent here, though I’ve only spoken to them a couple times.

"What’s that guy wearing on his face?" Claire asks in a hushed tone. "And why is he on the floor?"

How the fuck do I explain pet play to someone who only learned about sex in the past few months?

"It’s a leather mask made to look like a dog," I tell her. "You know how we talked about what a Dom/sub dynamic is?"

"Yes."

"Well, these two do something similar, except she’s the one in charge, and there’s an added element of him being… pet-like."

Claire’s head tilts with curiosity as she tries not to stare. "I don’t get it." She says it without judgment, which I appreciate. So many people are quick to judge what they don’t understand.

"When they’re in a scene—which just means the times they’re both participating in the dynamic—he’s like her dog and she’s his owner. In their particular case, he stays on all fours, isn’t allowed to speak, and follows her commands. In return, she takes care of him and is in charge for all intents andpurposes. I’m sure there’s more to their dynamic that I’m not aware of, though."

"Hmmm, interesting." And just like that, Claire moves on, her gaze shifting around the room again.

Well, that was an easier conversation than I expected. I really thought I’d have to give her the lecture about not judging others’ kinks even if they’re very different from our own, but apparently I was wrong. She’s taking this all in stride way better than I anticipated.

After close to thirty minutes of simply sitting and observing, we decide to grab a drink from the bar. Claire has been mostly quiet as we’ve sat, and I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside her head.