Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
9
Libby
* * *
What have I done? That seems to be the only thought running through my mind as I stare blankly out the car window. What the hell have I done? OMG, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. It’s always easy to talk about something in theory, but it’s another thing entirely to put your money where your mouth is. The thing about Frisco Arrington, however, is that the handsome CEO always puts his money where his mouth is.
Right now, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his Ferrari as he deftly navigates the streets of downtown Portland. We’re heading in the direction of the city outskirts, and my thighs tremble in anticipation. It’s been a week since our date at the restaurant, and even though I agreed to give Club Om a try, I can’t help but wonder if it’s not too late to back out now. I’m not the kind of girl to do things like this. I’m Christian. I go to Bible study, for goodness sake! The idea that I’m about to go to an underground BDSM club clashes so much with my lifestyle that my brain can barely process it at all.
“You okay?” Frisco asks lightly, glancing at me as we pull up to a red light. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m low-key freaking out,” I reply in a voice that doesn’t sound quite like my own, and glance down at my outfit, still in disbelief. It’s a skin-tight, black latex catsuit that took me almost an hour to get into. The neckline plunges, and the material clings tightly to every curve of my body. Even my nipples are visible through the latex, and my self-consciousness is at an all-time high. After all, Frisco took me to a specialty store to find this catsuit, and even just looking around at the bondage gear was enough to have me gasping with nerves. Wearing this outfit makes the situation feel more real somehow, and I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I try to remind myself it’s just an experiment, like my boyfriend said, but I’m having a hard time convincing myself.
“What are you freaking out about, exactly?” he asks gently, sensing my nerves. His voice is calm and reassuring, and that’s about the only thing that keeps me from having a full-blown anxiety attack. Of course, my boyfriend is also dressed to the nines. He’s wearing a tight white shirt which highlights his broad shoulders and muscular chest, and leather pants that leave little to the imagination. I swear, his bulge is growing even as we drive.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “I mean, what’s going to happen to us in there? What are they going to think?”
“Hey.” He reaches over to put a hand on my leg. “I promise, Libby, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll be there the whole time, and you have my word: I’ll take care of you. You’re safe.”
“Promise?” I whisper again.
Frisco doesn’t miss a beat. “Promise,” he growls, looking deeply into my gaze.
I close my eyes and nod, taking a deep breath. You’re going to be fine, I tell myself. It will be an adventure. Frisco’s here. You’re in good hands.
Those affirmations are what help me keep it together as we leave the city center while heading into the edgier, alternative outskirts of Portland. At last, we pull off a side street and into the parking lot of what looks like an abandoned warehouse. The only giveaway is the low sound of bass music pulsating across the parking lot, making the asphalt throb. When we get out of the car, I can see other people heading in, decked out in gags, straps, leashes, and chains. This is so far out of my league that I could almost swear it’s some kind of fever dream.
Frisco puts his hand protectively on my waist, and I cling to that solid bulk as he leads me up to the front entrance, where a bouncer dressed as a leather daddy greets him with a smile. “Long time no see, Mr. Arrington,” he says.
“Indeed,” Frisco replies with a smile. “Is Bo around?”
“Just inside,” the bouncer says. “Last I saw, he was in the main room.”
Frisco thanks him as the bouncer swings open the door for us. In spite of the neon lights, there’s a bit of smoke swirling about, and I can’t see very far. “You ready?” the handsome man murmurs in my ear.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, and we walk forward. No going back now.
We emerge into the dimly-light main room, which has massive concrete walls and no windows. Side rooms are visible, some blocked off with curtains for privacy, and some in full display for the other patrons. Before I can get a good look around, a huge, dark-haired man materializes in front of us. He’s shirtless, displaying an impressive six pack, and wearing only a tight pair of black leather pants.