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We understand that. We don’t care. We need a place to party and fuck like anyone else.

Those are the dominants, anyway. The submissives come from a very different walk of life. Sure, some of them are rich. Others are people who are working their way up. Others are professional subs who make their living off performances. There are so many dominants in this world that the club encourages subs of lesser means to join and make regular appearances to get laid. It’s a great gig if you’re poorer and looking for a hot sugar mama or daddy. The club doesn’t discriminate. Gay, straight, bi… it’s all good as long as you’re respectful about it.

There’s one I’ve got my eye on. The woman’s svelte in that modelesque way. Probably is a model. She’s wearing black underwear, topless, sitting cross-legged on a pillow with her shoulders slightly slouched and a simple collar around her neck. The kind that says she subs but has no permanent partner.

I’ve got a good feeling. In my loins, that is.

All I want is someone hot to crawl on top of and ride until I forget how much today sucked. I don’t even need to whip them unless that’s what they want. Maybe that’s what I’ll put out tonight. “Hey, you,” I’ll say. “I’ll give you great oral if you shut up and let me ride your face too.”

Eve follows my gaze down into the main gallery. “Someone wants to get laid,” she says. Cigar smoke filters past my nose, but I’m too lost in my fantasies of Ms. Beautiful down there. I bet she’s tighter than a taut string in all the right places. “Can’t say I blame you. If I weren’t cramping like a bitch I’d be out of here already.”

Too much information, but that’s Eve. “I would ask if it’s that obvious, but…”

“You asked me here, didn’t you? If you say let’s go to Midnight, I assume that you’re looking for a hot piece of ass. After hearing about your day? I’m shocked you’re not already getting out your crop and smacking some lucky butts down there.”

“I need to gather up the energy to do that first.”

Eve finishes her cigar and stands, straightening out her suit and checking her impeccable hair with her hands. If I were the type to sleep with my friends, I’d be into someone like her. Eve and I would be a hilariously kinky and troublemaking couple.

“Stick around, Kat. I’ll scope out some pretty boys for you, too. In case the girls are all spoken for.”

“Not too pretty. I like muscles on mine.”

“Should be easy enough to find. Hang tight.”

I don’t think she’s going to find me anyone, but Eve saunters off, half-drunk but putting on the air of sobriety. She needs the alcohol if she’s going to survive this club by herself. Although with my luck, she’ll find a woman and leave me in the dust. If Eve can sniff out someone willing to get Topped by her, she will find them.

That martini I’ve been thinking about is mine within five minutes. I attempt to enjoy the peace I now have in an otherwise loud club. Helps that Eve and I got here early and secured our quaint VIP space upstairs. Looking back down into the main gallery, I see a party has started. Business dealings are over. Now people are plastered enough to holler at every makeout session and spanking they see.

More high-profile people are arriving. I focus on a familiar face and soon recognize up-and-coming actress Stephanie May. If you don’t know her, she was an indie darling for a few years before a big director cast her in a moderate success. She got a few accolades, and because she’s a hot skinny blonde, she gets lots of offers now. There’s talk she’s going to be in the adaptation for one of those historical rom-coms. Don’t ask me which one. The only books I have time to read anymore are business insiders and the occasional erotic short on my tablet. Last time I read anything with substance was, I dunno, Gone Girl? Fuck, what happened in that book?

I can’t remember. Partly because the woman holding Stephanie’s hand is no one else but Ira Mathison, and I’m trapped between pure surprise and disgust.

Of course, she’s dating a young movie starlet. I mean, Ira is a total freakin’ player. Everyone knows it. She goes through girlfriends – sometimes more than one at a time – like I go through chocolate when I’m PMSing. I can’t keep track of these girls…

…Not that I am, mind you. It’s not like I care how many women she parades around, or who she gets photographed with for Page 6. She’s one of those people who is super public with her life. Doesn’t hide from cameras. Isn’t afraid to get up and say something. She’s always been that way too. For a while, she was on the student council in high school. Captain of the soccer team. She is a natural leader like that, and nobody was surprised when she started doing so well in her family’s company. Why wouldn’t she?

I’m the opposite. I didn’t run for anything in high school. I barely played sports past some stints at volleyball. Thing is, I was riding the coattails of my parents. There was never any doubt that I would get into the school of my choice – my dad only needed to write the right check if I couldn’t get in on my own merits. Don’t get me wrong. I got good grades. I applied myself where I felt like it. Only now I have to apply myself harder to prove to myself, my parents, and the business world that this woman can do just as well as anyone else. Then I do shit like I did this morning.

I look away from Ira and her arm candy. They’re talking to a few other people, and she’s got her arm wrapped around Stephanie May like they’re gonna bone any moment. Probably will. Ira is no stranger to the private rooms in the back.

Neither am I. That’s beside the point. See, it’s okay if I sleep around. It’s totally different when she does it.

Don’t ask me why. Just… every time I see her with someone, I’m angry. Not on a tirade, but definitely uneasy.

I’m not jealous.

Jealousy would imply I wish I were Stephanie May. Let me tell you, the type of woman who wraps herself up in a dominant’s arms, coos in their ear, and begs to be bent over and pummeled right in the pussy? That ain’t me. That won’t ever be me.

Excuse you, I am not protesting too much!

Chapter 4

Ira

The party is alive tonight. From the moment I walk in with Stephanie, we’re bombarded with groups of people who want to say hi and buy us drinks. Normally, I’m the one buying the drinks. I am definitely buying Stephanie’s drink.

Let me introduce you to my date for the evening. Stephanie May is a lovely woman, and not just on the outside, although that certainly attracted me first. She’s got a model’s body. Not the kind you’re thinking about. I’m talking ‘80s model, with perky breasts and the kind of hips you want to clutch and squeeze. The way she saunters in her shimmery dress is so enticing that it’s a wonder I’m not dragging her to one of the private rooms right now.