Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
He didn’t pay attention to where he was going, simply followed Kyle down the long hallway. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of what looked like a playroom. There was a St. Andrew’s Cross on the wall and several spanking benches. He was sure if he walked in there would be familiar objects.
Yep. He’d walked back into Taggart world, and this was proof. Kyle turned left and walked through a set of French doors into what looked like an oddly elegant Wild West saloon. There was a big bar and seating that overlooked another part of the dungeon, this one seemingly constructed for suspension play. There were three stages across the big ballroom, and it would be easy to watch what was going on from the luxurious bar. In addition to the bar proper, there was a seating area with loungers and big fluffy pillows for sweet subs to sit on while their Masters and Mistresses took the sturdy chairs. He eyed a long poker table to the side.
Sandra had finally built her version of heaven, and he was happy for her.
Unfortunately, her version of heaven looked like it would be his own personal Waterloo.
Kyle moved around the bar and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet underneath. “Brad, you should start talking.”
Brad had followed them, and he stood at the doorway. “What is this place?”
Well, it was good to know he wasn’t the only one whose night hadn’t gone the way he’d thought it would. Drake sank down to one of the chairs around a table in the center of the area. “It’s a dungeon. Get used to it. When are play nights?”
Kyle set the bottle on the table along with three glasses. “The usual. Thursday through Saturday nights. The entrance is in the back so the club and the bar stay separate, but you’ll find it’s a little different than Dallas. This is the West, gentlemen, and not a lot has changed in the last hundred years. People mind their business. When they say no gossip here, they mean it.”
So no one would be talking about the strangers walking around. That was probably why Taggart had hidden his nephew here. Sandra would have made sure her employees didn’t talk, and the rest wouldn’t care about the stranger as long as he kept to himself and didn’t cause trouble.
They had no idea what kind of trouble Kyle could cause.
Brad stood there, looking at the room like it was some ring of hell he wouldn’t be able to get out of if he walked in. “I’ve never been in a club like this.”
“You’ve never worked with my uncle.” Kyle poured out two fingers into all three glasses. “No one’s going to force you to fuck, Brad. The good news is you’ve reached the planet of consent. You’re way safer here then you are in one of your bro bars.”
Brad walked over to the table. “Is this where you spend your time?”
“Here? No. I’ve never been here,” Drake replied.
Brad huffed, a frustrated sound. “No. I mean in DC. You never come out with us, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you talking about going to a club.”
“It’s called The Court, and yes, I’m a member.” He wasn’t ashamed of his proclivities. He enjoyed the lifestyle and the honesty it offered. He’d watched powerful men get their asses kicked out of The Court by the Domme who ran it. “I’m a member of several clubs.”
“Not Sanctum,” Kyle said, passing him a glass.
“You’re not at Sanctum, either, buddy.” He wasn’t sure why Kyle was pushing him, but he could push back. “We’re both at The Club. Tell me something. Is MaeBe a member of The Club or Sanctum?”
“I thought Sanctum was the club,” Brad said, sinking to his seat. “Wait. Did Julia go to a club?”
“No,” they both said at the same time.
Kyle picked up one of the glasses and shot it back. “But she knows about me. Part of her play with Nolan Byrne was to tell him she’d had a Dom. I was never her top. Not once. I didn’t get involved in the lifestyle until my uncle basically shoved me at Julian Lodge and told him to fix me. Which is rude.”
“Did he?” Drake knew how those things went. Sex wouldn’t have been the only thing on the menu. Therapy would have been a big part of getting into The Club, and Big Tag would have been sneaky about it. There would have been sessions to see if the applicant was a good fit that would have led to the applicant talking about shit he hadn’t meant to and oops, he suddenly felt better and…
He suddenly wanted to talk to The Court’s resident therapist. Damn it. It had worked on him, too. Fucking lifestylists needed everyone to be healthy and shit.