Excerpt

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The owners of Carte Blanche could have accepted more applications for membership and doubled the number of players present in the club every night. They could have easily doubled their profits, by Ray’s estimations. He had had the opportunity to talk to one of them outside the scene, however, and she had made it clear that she and her partner weren’t in it for the money. They wanted to run a high-quality, exclusive BDSM club where they could enjoy themselves as much as their customers did—and they did just that. Or at least, they usually did. Right now, they seemed tied up at the entrance, talking in urgent tones to a woman and blocking her path.

“…not your card. This is a private club.”

Music was playing, drifting into the bar area from the dancing one where it played louder. The club was divided into clearly separate zones, but the open plan let the music travel as easily as the players between them. The slow rhythm of the drums beat like a heart throughout the club, the wordless harmonies on top of it sensuous and penetrating.

“Membership cannot be passed on like this.”

“No, but members can transfer their card to guests for a night, can’t they? It’s in your statutes. I want to sample the experience before I apply for membership.”

Ray’s thumb was tapping on his glass along with the drums, but he wasn’t really aware of the music or anything happening in the seating area around him. He was focused on what was going on by the entrance, intrigued by the unusual occurrence. He had thought he knew all the players in town at least by sight, but he had clearly been mistaken. He wouldn’t have forgotten this gorgeous woman if he had seen her before. Then again, from what he was catching of her discussion with the owners, it would be her first visit once they let her in. And they would, he was sure of it. It was a red card she was presenting, and she had the attitude to match it. As much as the club tried to maintain a balance amongst the players, dominant women were too rare to send away.

“You have no idea what this establishment—”

“Please, do not insult me. Just because you have not seen me on the scene in this town doesn’t mean I’m a beginner.”

Oh, no, she definitely wasn’t a beginner, Ray thought, grinning to himself. No beginner had a presence such as this woman’s. Even from where he stood, maybe thirty yards from her, Ray could feel it. He couldn’t have defined it, couldn’t have explained it to someone who wasn’t part of the scene, but there was something about her that told anyone who cared to listen that she expected to be obeyed without questions. Something that made him want to obey—and that seemed to make up the owner’s mind about her

“You know about the cards?”

“I do, but why don’t you refresh my memory.”

“Dominants wear red cards. Submissives wear blue. Switches have both colors on their cards, the one at the top is what you need to look at. You know how to reveal the list… yes? Good. By law, I have to tell you there may be vampires on the premises, and they are not required to identify themselves as such to you. There is no biting allowed in the common areas, and mild play only. For anything more, you are welcome to use the private rooms.”

The woman nodded and was finally allowed to enter. Ray watched her descend the short staircase that led from the entrance to the ground floor. She took slow steps, a hand resting on the railing, surveying the club. As most women did, she had clipped the club card to the hem of her short black dress so that it bounced a little above her knee with each step. She was holding a small, black clutch purse in her right hand, its closures golden like the loose bracelets at her wrists and her dangling earrings. She walked over to the bar and sat up on a stool, her long, perfect legs crossed and showing off her gleaming high-heeled shoes. Ray’s cock stirred, making his decision for him.

“If you ladies will excuse me…”

The two women perched on each side of him on identical leather poofs looked at him askance when he stood. Using his free hand, he unhooked the card hanging from his belt red side up, and flipped it over. The woman on his right, Lea, if he wasn’t mistaken, sighed dramatically.

“But Ray, you promised we’d play! Didn’t you say your Master was out of town?”

Moments earlier, she would have called him ‘sir’ and never dared to question him like this—not unless she was seeking punishment. He was now showing blue, however, same as she was, and the tenuous link between them had been broken.

“He is,” he replied with a placating smile. “And we’ll play another time. Good night.”

He finished what was left of his drink on his way to the bar, Lea and her friend already slipping out of his mind. He leaned against the counter a few feet from the woman he had been observing and ordered a refill before turning his eyes toward her. From up close, her tanned skin seemed golden. The tight braid that held her hair back accentuated the clean lines of her face. Ray’s fingers were practically itching for a pencil and a piece of paper to transcribe what he was seeing: light, darkness, beauty—and a fire that made her eyes burn right through him.

“I don’t think I like the way you’re looking at me,” she said, her voice and slight frown making it clear that she was displeased.

“Well, how should I be looking at you, Mistress?” he asked, tilting his head and letting his gaze run from the pointed tip of her shoe, up her leg, over the plunging v-line of her dress, and finally back up to her eyes, which were now glaring at him.

“I don’t think I like the way you’re talking to me, either. You call me Mistress, but you’re not showing in any way that you know what this word means.”

She was responding exactly in the way Ray had expected she would—exactly like Keller would have, confronted to such blatant insolence—and he had some trouble hiding his grin. So far, she seemed to be what he hadn’t dared hope to find when coming to the club this night. He picked up his scotch refill and emptied it in one long gulp, only now noticing that she had been sipping on fruit juice. He liked that; good players didn’t need alcohol to get into the scene.

The thought amused him, right when he had just swallowed another drink, but he still didn’t let himself smile. Instead, he slid to his knees in front of the Mistress he had chosen for himself, making the movement as graceful as he could manage. Hands crossed at the small of his back, he bowed his head and controlled his voice carefully so that it reflected nothing more than pure obedience.

“I spoke out of turn, Mistress. I am ready for the punishment I deserve.”

She could refuse, of course, but he didn’t think she would. On her first visit to Carte Blanche, it was more likely that she would want to establish herself as a strong Dominant. In the frame of mind Ray was currently in, he would be more than happy to help her in that regard.

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