Modern Girl's Guide to Kink Read online

  Modern Girl’s Guide to Kink

  Gina Drayer

  Crimson Heart Publications

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Modern Girl’s Guide to Office Romance

  Afterword

  Before You Go

  Also by Gina Drayer

  Newsletter

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  1

  Test the Waters

  Kink isn’t for everyone. The best thing you can do is be a bit adventurous and try something outside the box. Explore a fantasy. Use a new toy. Go to a club. Attend a class.

  * * *

  Despite being a longtime member of Club V, Kim felt out of place as she surveyed the room. The sights, sounds, and even smells in the club were so familiar. The air vibrated with a viscous sexual tension that permeated throughout the room. The steady beat of the bass, the grinding bodies on the dance floor, the constant hum of the crowd should have put her in a party mood.

  But instead, it only reminded her of the life and failed relationship she’d left behind in Chicago. Now she was just another boat that had lost its mooring, adrift in a sea of masked party-goers.

  Like any good best friend, Lily had insisted she come along and meet some new people. At the time, she had seen the logic in her friend’s argument. New York was her home now, and she should be ready to start building a real life here. But six months wasn’t nearly enough time to heal a broken heart. Was it?

  “If I’d known you were going to mope all night, I would have left you at home,” Lily said as she returned from the dance floor. “You’re not going to have any fun just sitting here by yourself. Come out and dance with us.”

  “I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to. The steel boning in this dress is killing me. I can hardly breathe, let alone dance. There shouldn’t be dancing at a costume party anyway. I can’t believe you haven’t skewered someone yet with those big-ass horns.”

  “If anyone gets hurt it’s their own fault.” Lily ran her hands down the length of the twisted points suggestively and grinned. “Everyone know that I’m more dangerous than I look.”

  At a willowy five-eleven, with sharp Nordic features, Lily could easily be mistaken for frail. But dressed as the evil fairy from Sleeping Beauty, in a long black corseted dress and with her skin tinted a pale green, she looked formidable. Kim, in contrast, had gone for the softer matching Aurora costume. The pink corset and ruffled skirt may have been a good fit for the character, but it wasn’t the most practical outfit.

  Lily slid into the booth next to Kim and started fanning herself. “Have you seen a waiter? Since I’m not working tonight, I’d like another drink. Maybe two.”

  “I haven’t seen one in a while. There was a big party that just showed up. I think they’re swamped. I can just place our order at the bar. Then you can help me in the bathroom. I don’t think I can get this dress off by myself.”

  “Roman was asking about you. I’m sure I could talk him into helping you out of that dress and into something a little more comfortable.”

  “Roman? I’ve hardly spoken to the man.”

  Lily turned around and waved to one of the large men in black that were stationed on the perimeter of the dance floor. The bright yellow SECURITY printed on the skin-tight T-shirt that emphasized his well-defined pecs identified him as one of the staff. He didn’t smile or wave back. The only indication that he’d even seen Lily was a barely perceptible nod in their direction. When his dark eyes moved over to Kim, she could feel the heat of his gaze.

  Lily turned around and smiled. “I think you two would hit it off. Tall, dark, and brooding. Just the way you like them. His shift is done at eleven, by the way.”

  Kim looked back over to where Roman stood and frowned. He could have been a stand-in for her ex, Micah. And the one before him, and the one before him. Tall, dark, and brooding was her type. And maybe that was her problem. She kept going for the same type of guy and expecting the outcome to be different.

  “I’m going to pass,” Kim said.

  “Kim, you need to get back out there.”

  “I will. Just …” She looked over to Roman again. He really was sexy, and she could imagine all the things he would want her to do. But she was turning over a new leaf. “I know I need to move on, but not with him. Actually, I don’t want to date anyone from the club.”

  “Who said anything about dating? I’m talking something casual. What you need to do is pop that post-breakup cherry. And Roman is the perfect guy for that because he’s not looking for a permanent sub. Besides, he’s got a good reputation—in and out of the bedroom.”

  Kim snuck a quick glance at Roman. He had so many of the qualities that had attracted her to Micah, and a no-strings romp to scratch that itch was tempting. But to her, Roman felt like a big step backward. If she wanted a change, she needed to do something different with her love life. Or at least someone different.

  Maybe Lily was on to something. However, she wasn’t going to settle for some open relationship. And she already knew that a straight vanilla guy wouldn’t work. So, she’d just take a break from dating. At least until she could find a way to have her multi-flavored kinky cake and eat it too.

  “I appreciate the help, but if I’m going to put myself out there, I want something with substance.” Kim stood and smoothed down the fabric of her dress. “For now, I’ll settle for a date with something tall, amber, and on the rocks. How about I get you a gin and tonic?”

  “Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Cash asked, looking over his shoulder at his friend Dylon. The building in front of him looked like a nondescript warehouse—some place that would ship tube socks, not the most talked-about sex club in New York. The only thing that made the building stand apart from the other chunky brick rectangles was the muscled, leather-clad guy reading in the security booth. Tube socks don’t need that kind of security.

  “Yes, now get out.”

  “How did you get invited to this party anyway? I thought Club V was a members-only club.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Dylon said and paid the cab driver. “Every Halloween, they have an open-door party. You still have to get your name on the list, but Alysha hooked me up.”

  “Alysha? Your weekend waitress? You’re telling me she’s a member here.” Cash looked back at the generic building. There wasn’t even a sign with a business name on it. Just a black door in the middle of a red brick building. “I heard membership was twenty thousand dollars or something crazy like that.”

  “Alysha’s not a member; a guy she’s dating is. He put our names on the list.”

  “Sweet little five-foot-nothing Alysha?” Cash asked again. The waitress was the nicest, softest spoken woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t see her getting involved with a man who belonged to a sex club.

  “Yes, Alysha. Perhaps, if you’re nice, she
can introduce us to some of her friends. You’ve hardly dated since Paula. It’s time to move on.”

  Cash laughed. “No offense, but I doubt I’ll find the woman of my dreams here.”

  “You never know unless you get out of the cab.”

  Dylon was right about one thing, he’d been stewing over Paula’s betrayal for too long. It had been almost two years, and he hadn’t had a serious relationship since she left. He was ready to try again.

  Cash got out and paid the driver, while Dylon headed toward the security booth.

  “Are you coming or not?” Dylon wrapped his cape around himself in a grand sweeping gesture and covered his nose with his forearm. “The night is still young, my friend, and the women are waiting.”

  While it might be time for him to date again, Club V wasn’t going to be the place he’d start. The private club was little more than a place for easy hookups and kinky sex. And he wasn’t looking for either. If it weren’t for Dylon dragging his ass along, Club V wouldn’t even be on his radar.

  As Dylon got closer, the Hulk-like man stood up and pushed open the little window. “Can I help you?” he asked in a booming baritone.

  “We’re on the list,” Dylon said, nodding smugly as if he’d just found the last golden ticket.

  “Names?” the security dude asked, unimpressed.

  “Dylon Knightly and Cash Cooper.”

  “I need to see some IDs.” The security guard grabbed his clipboard. He matched Cash’s driver’s license to the name and handed it back. Then he gave his friend a once-over, holding up his ID to the glass, looking back and forth between the photo and Dylon’s face.

  “I fucking hate Halloween,” he mumbled under his breath. He handed back the license with a head shake. “I can’t let you in without masks.”

  “Got it covered.” Dylon reached into his pocket and tossed Cash a wadded-up mask.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” Cash asked, holding up the cheap fabric. “It doesn’t exactly go with my costume.”

  “Didn’t the Lone Ranger wear a mask? Stop bitching and put it on.”

  “You’ll need wristbands. Blue means you’re guests and only have access to the public areas. All the private floors are off limits unless you are escorted by a member with a green band.”

  “What’s on the private floors?” Dylon asked after getting his wristband attached.

  The security guy ignored the question and attached a band to Cash’s wrist. “If you’re not wearing a wristband security will kick you out, so don’t remove them for any reason.” He pressed a button on the control panel, and a loud buzzing came from the door to their right. “The club closes at two. Have a nice night, gentlemen.”

  Cash glanced down at the blue band and wondered what he’d gotten himself into. This wasn’t his scene at all.

  “Are you going to stand out there like a pussy or are you going to come inside?” Dylon yelled from the door.

  Cash looked back to the security guard, who was still shaking his head, muttering something about tourists. He’d made it this far, so why not go all in. He grabbed the door and followed Dylon down the rabbit hole.

  They checked their coats, signed waivers, and were directed down a narrow hallway toward the sound of pounding bass. The dark passage opened up into a crowded club. And it wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he expected: naked women, people having sex on tables, an ashtray filled with keys?

  There wasn’t any of that. The scene before him was actually rather benign. Everyone was dressed. Outside of the rather provocative stage show at the back of the room, no one was having sex. And as for the keys in ashtrays? None in sight. But then again, there was quite possibly some city ordinance that banned smoking at orgies. It could have been any number of trending nightclubs.

  That is, except for the clientele. Instead of trendy New Yorkers, drunk co-eds, and other party-goers out for a night on the town, the crowd was an eclectic blend of varying sexual fantasies. And the clothing was less costume and more alter-ego. The angel. The devil. The slave. The master.

  He suddenly felt ridiculous in his brown leather duster and cowboy hat. When Dylon had called, insisting he come along to this Halloween party, Cash got stuck making do with what he had in his closet.

  His friend, on the other hand, was a better fit with this crowd in his seventies porn star Count Dracula getup. He wore a long black satin cape with a high collar, a white ruffled poet’s shirt that gaped wide showing off his considerable ink, and a pair of crush-your-testicles-tight leather pants. Anyplace else, he would have been asked to leave for indecent exposure.

  “What did I tell you? This is the party to be at tonight,” Dylon said, slapping him on the back. “Why don’t you get us a drink while I find Alysha and Beck?”

  Cash weaved his way through the crowd. He kept expecting to see something out of the ordinary, some act of debauchery, but it was almost painfully normal. Well, maybe not completely normal. It wasn’t every day he saw people being led around by leashes or used as literal foot stools.

  Trying not to gape like a tourist, he made his way to the bar. There was a crowd around it, and he couldn’t get the bartender’s attention to save his life. He was about to give up when someone bumped into him, nearly knocking him to the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” a rich, sultry voice said from behind him. “These wedge heels are going to be the death of me someday.”

  He turned, and the most striking pair of hazel eyes looked back at him through a dark leather mask that branched out around her face like brambles. Unlike his cheap one, hers had been custom made to wrap around her face and trail down her neck, meeting up with the dark thorn tattoo that curled around her shoulder. Most of her face was hidden behind the intricate mask, but those eyes had him mesmerized.

  He must have been staring too long because the woman shook her head and stepped around him to the bar.

  Realizing what an ass he was being, Cash moved in beside her. “Don’t worry about it. This place is really packed. I’ve been trying to get a drink for the last ten minutes.”

  The woman turned her head and flashed him a brilliant smile. “You just don’t know the secret password.” Turning back, she hopped up and leaned across the bar. The short pink skirt she was wearing crept up her legs, showing off a fair amount of thigh. And that design on her shoulder repeated up her right leg. Cash wondered just how far up it went under that skirt.

  As she waved a black card with white lettering, he caught sight of the green wristband she was wearing. “Caesar, the Mistress would like a drink,” she yelled. And just like that, the bartender appeared.

  “How may I be of service?”

  “Mistress L would like a gin and tonic. I’ll have a Glenlivet, neat. And my friend here …” She nodded in his direction.

  “Two beers. Whatever you have on draft,” he added. The bartender left to get their drinks. While they waited, Cash took the opportunity to study the woman in pink. While the top of her dress was corseted, the ruffled skirt and pink color looked chaste compared to the wardrobe of the rest of the crowd. He looked around and back at her. One of these things is not like the others. But there was the green band.

  The woman followed his gaze down to her wrist. “First time here?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  She gave him a once-over and the smile returned. “You don’t exactly fit in, Cowboy.”

  Cash shifted uncomfortably. “I was thinking the same thing about you, Princess.”

  “You know, I have this theory about Halloween. I think that people show their inner identities with the costumes they pick. What does your costume say about you?”

  “It says that I didn’t have anything planned and just grabbed some things out of my closet.”

  “No costume for the costume party? So you’re either disorganized and never plan or a workaholic who is chronically busy.”

  “I am busy, but that’s not the reason I didn’t have a costume. Thi
s invitation was last-minute. I wasn’t planning on coming tonight.”

  “That’s too bad. I think the Lone Ranger getup suits you. A masked stranger who rescues people,” she said, biting back a smile.

  “So based on your theory, what exactly does your costume say about you?”

  “Mine?” She looked down at the pink outfit and then back up at him. “It says—”

  “Here are your drinks,” the bartender interrupted, setting the glasses down in front of them. He handed back the black card. “I know Mistress L isn’t working tonight, but please tell the Mistress that one of her clients reserved the big room for a private party, and he requested her.”

  “I’ll let her know, but you know the Mistress doesn’t do last-minute engagements. You should tell him not to count on it.” With drinks in hand, she turned to Cash. “It was really nice talking to you. I need to get this drink to my friend. But maybe I’ll run into you later.”

  With that, she left. Cash grabbed the two beers from the bar and followed a few steps behind her, debating whether or not he should seek her out to continue their conversation. But before he made up his mind, some jackass at one of the small tables surrounding the bar grabbed a waitress and pulled her down onto his lap. Out of nowhere a security guard pushed through the onlookers and hauled the guy out of his chair.

  The chair fell to the floor with a loud crash and the molested waitress, in a hurry to get out of their way, ran right into the woman in pink. With her chunky wedge heels, the princess stumbled backward straight toward the steps leading down to the main floor. Without thinking, Cash dropped his beers and grabbed her around the waist before she fell down the stairs. He’d managed to save her from a nasty fall, but the drinks she was carrying ended up all over them both.

  “Are you all right?” Cash helped her get her balance, ignoring the ice-cold liquid running down his legs.