Hot in the City 2: Sin City (17 page)

She’d raised her eyebrows and grinned. “I’ve played a few leather games in the past, but I’ve never been in a real S&M bar.”

He’d grinned back. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on being
too
rough on you tonight, but I thought this might…get us in the mood.”

Now, as they traveled toward this mysterious destination, she wondered what exactly her master
did
have in mind for tonight.

“I like this look on you,” she told him, taking in his black leather pants and snug black t-shirt. She didn’t like those kinds of clothes on just every guy, but Marc was masculine enough to pull them off with ease and he looked very sexy.

He smiled across the car at her. “You, sweetheart, look like a total dominatrix tonight.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“So long as you remember your place,” he said with a wicked little grin that reminded her he was in charge tonight. And given the pleasures this man had shown her over the last few erotic days, she figured giving herself over to him completely for a night was the least she could do. She still worried that before her visit to Vegas was done she’d be way too attached to him, but she was beginning to think avoiding that was impossible. In fact, maybe it was
already
too late. After all, when she went back to Baltimore—when this spectacular trip of passionate debauchery ended—wouldn’t she always look back on it as a time of total freedom, total lack of inhibition, total fulfillment, all given to her by Marc?

“Speaking of which,” he said, drawing her thoughts back to the present, “I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

“Am I supposed to ask what it is, or do I just have to wait and see?”

“It’s about Adrianna.”

She lifted her gaze, a little surprised their boss would come into their conversation about submission and domination.

“When we get back to your room tonight, she’s going to join us.”

Even as Diana raised her eyebrows in shock, she wasn’t sure how she felt about his announcement. Equal parts aversion and anticipation traveled through her veins. She’d thought their master and slave game would be something private, just between them, and wasn’t sure she was comfortable sharing something like that with Adrianna. On the other hand, she hadn’t forgotten her recent curiosity about the pleasures of feminine flesh. Adrianna was beautiful and shapely and sexy and if, as she’d claimed, she was using this “last fling” to soak up every sexual encounter she could, shouldn’t she welcome an attractive, exciting woman to their little game tonight?

“You don’t look happy,” he said. On either side of them, the landscape was becoming less urban, with brown rock and desert-like stretches of highway appearing between populated areas.

“I’m just surprised,” she said, “but it’s all right.”

His grin held a promise of the night to come. “That’s good, since you have to submit to whatever I want anyway.”

She flashed a wry smile, a hint of arousal tweaking her pussy even as she tried to get used to this game and the fact that, apparently, it had already started. “How did this come about?”

“We both worked a little late tonight and she told me she was going to call you and ask you to dinner.”

Although never in her life, even after Adrianna’s pass at her the other day, had it occurred to Diana that she might go on a “date” with another woman, she felt strangely flattered to hear their boss was still thinking about her that way.

Marc went on. “I told her you already had plans tonight and…well, you know how frank Adrianna is, and I’m equally as honest with her, so it came out that we both had the hots for you and she invited herself along for a ménage a trois. I told her we were indulging in a little domination this evening and she didn’t have any complaints.”

Diana let out her breath as the ramifications of this hit her fully. Not only was Adrianna joining them for sex tonight, but she’d be in leather, and Marc would be controlling their actions. As before, she was struck with an odd mixture of distress and excitement.

Marc pulled into a gravel lot surrounding a wide, flat, one-story building marked with only a small, crude-looking sign that said “The Cave.” Despite the early hour, the lot was filled, mostly with motorcycles and older, souped-up sports cars.

“I may as well tell you,” he said, “this is where I know Adrianna from—before we worked together.”

She looked at the dark building. “This place?”

“And others like it. That’s kind of the little secret I wasn’t willing to spill in the limo the other night. Thing is, sweetheart…” He turned to her in the parked car. “…I’m into the BDSM scene just a little. Not all the time, just occasionally. And so is Adrianna.”

She tried to swallow back her surprise. She was at once stunned and intrigued. Remembering how his “secret” had come up in conversation before, she said, “So you’ve done a lot of wild BDSM things. And when we were talking about sex with multiple partners—the other encounters you mentioned had to do with that?”

He shrugged, looking uncharacteristically sheepish even as he gave her a matter-of-fact grin. “Yeah, a lot of my wilder experiences occurred through BDSM.”

“You once said you knew Adrianna well. So that means you and she got together a lot?”

Another shrug of his shoulders. “We ran with the same crowd back then, so…yeah. It was when I’d first gotten into the lifestyle, the period I was deepest into it. Since that time, it’s kind of faded off—it’s just an occasional thing for me now. And…something I’m interested in introducing to
you
. I hope none of this…changes anything. Your feelings about me, I mean.”

“Why should it?”

He smiled, looking relieved. “Well, other than my sexual appetites, I think of myself as a pretty conventional guy. And I know most conventional people think this stuff is pretty weird. Even people who really dig sex.”

“Color me…fascinated,” she said, tilting her head and flashing her best sensual grin.

He looked satisfied. “And color your master well-pleased by that.”

Marc placed his hand at the small of her back as they stepped inside. Diana quickly discovered that the restaurant’s name was apt—the interior was dark and cavern-like. Most of the patrons, including the bartender and waitresses, wore black leather or vinyl, although a few biker types wore blue jeans and bandannas, with black biker gear or Harley Davidson t-shirts.

She was surprised to find that a hostess was employed to show them to their table—a buxom redhead in a black bustier who sported a writhing snake tattooed down the length of her right arm. She led them down a hallway to another dark room with black walls and ceilings, lit only by a few candles jutting from medieval-looking sconces. The room was small and tables for two lined the four walls, the middle area left open for people to get through. The snake lady escorted them to the last empty table, the others filled with a variety of twenty and thirty-somethings like themselves, decked out in goth-wear and leather. Diana felt like she’d stepped into an alternate universe, and she liked being a part of something so foreign to her.

After perusing the small black menu, she ordered light, thinking of the constricting corset under her dress, which was a constant reminder of what was to come.

“So, what exactly are your plans for Adrianna and me?” She leaned forward just enough to treat him to a little cleavage.

He grinned. “Let me put it like this, sweetheart. You might think you and I have already traveled a pretty damn exciting road together these past few days—but you should brace yourself, because the scenery’s about to change, and you won’t even recognize it.”

* * * * *

By the time they’d finished eating, the crowd in The Cave had started to grow and the mood had begun growing a little more hedonistic. Diana nearly lost her breath when she realized that a girl a few tables away from them wore a low-cut black vinyl vest that revealed her small breasts entirely, and by the time they’d paid the bill and left the table, she was sitting on her big, bald companion’s lap having one of them suckled while she nibbled on the chocolate cake she’d ordered for dessert.

The goth and metal music that had played through the meal had been turned up slightly, beginning to make conversation more difficult. Marc took Diana’s hand and led her down the corridor they’d traveled to reach the dining room and back into the main area, which she now realized was more of a club.

Numerous people stood around in outfits of black, some drinking, some dancing to the music. In the middle of the room, two goth queens stood making out, one of them fondling the other girl’s breast through fabric that looked thin and mesh-like. As they wove through the crowd, Diana began to realize that a number of women wore outfits that revealed their breasts or that rose scandalously high on their thighs, revealing the lower curves of their asses. As sexy as Diana had felt getting dressed earlier, she was beginning to feel utterly conservative in The Cave.

Making their way to the bar, Marc ordered them both the house specialty drink, called Sex Potion #9, promising she’d like it. The drink he handed her a moment later was blood red and the only tastes she recognized were strawberry and lots of rum, and Marc was right—it went down as easy as fruit punch.

“What now?” she asked over the pounding music. “Or is this it? Is this what goes on in your average BDSM place?”

Marc’s throaty laugh made her feel—once again—naïve. Sin City, she’d discovered, had a way of making her feel like a total innocent in a strange land. “Not even close,” he told her, pointing to a number of doorways across the room.

Signs painted in red and black hung above each door. One said “Wheel of Torture” and another said, “Torture ala Carte.”

“Uh…care to explain further?” she asked.

“In the Wheel of Torture room, you spin a wheel and a guy or girl—your pick—in a black mask administers whatever sort of torture comes up. In the ala Carte room, you choose your own.”

Her skin prickled. “Like…?”

“Oh, nipple clamping, having certain parts of your body tied with rope, spankings and beatings with various tools, that sort of thing.”

She laughed. “That sort of thing,” she repeated. “You name them off like they’re flavors of ice cream.”

He grinned. “Well, I’m your ice-cream man and I’m also your Wheel of Torture man—if you want me to be.”

“So you’re into that—the torture part?”

“Very low level, sweetheart. Nothing that would alarm you, I promise.” As if to reassure her, he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close to deliver a kiss to her forehead, and it actually
did
work to relax her concerns. This was Marc, her sweet, sexy lover. The guy who’d seemed scared to death she’d regret their evening in the limo. She knew she had no worries, and that even if he was her master, he’d take care of her.

She spotted two more signs that pointed down a dark hallway. One said “Live Sex—Do It.” The other said “Live Sex—Voyeurs.” She supposed they were self explanatory, but she said, “Do people really…?”

He nodded. “There’s a pane of glass between the two rooms and the voyeur room has chairs for you to sit and watch what’s going on through the glass.”

She couldn’t help a small smile up at him. “And I’m guessing you’ve frequented the voyeur room? Given your penchant for watching?”

He shrugged, grinned. “Back in the day, yeah, I might have happened in there on occasion. But at the moment…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not really too compelled to watch anyone doing anything except my little slave girl here.” He grinned and lowered another soft kiss to the top of her head.

She glanced toward the signs again. “Is this even legal?”

He held his hands out in front of him. “You’re in Vegas, baby.” Then he closed his fingers around hers. “Almost finished with your drink? Ready to go?”

She took the last sip and set her glass on a nearby table. And she didn’t know whether it was the rum talking or something more, but she said, “Not quite.”

“Oh?”

“You’re right—I’m in Vegas, baby. So before we go, I want to sneak a peek into one of those rooms. I’ll feel like I’m leaving here a total BDSM virgin if I don’t. Any recommendations?” she asked, peering up into his sexy eyes.

“It’s early yet, but let’s see if anyone’s in the Live Sex room.”

Diana’s heartbeat kicked up as she made her way down the dark hall, Marc’s hand at the small of her back. All the leather she wore seemed to, at once, caress her skin and bind her tighter as she walked. When she reached the room for voyeurs, she turned the doorknob, easing it open just a bit.

Only two people sat watching—a couple of biker guys around their age.

Through the glass panel, she spied two girls making out, clad only in black panties. Both were pretty, even with their starkly dyed black hair and heavy makeup. Like during the gentleman’s show, she was immediately intrigued by the softness of their kisses, their touches, the way their pointed breasts jutted into each other. She wondered if that would be her and Adrianna later.

“I expected something much rougher in here,” she whispered to Marc, who stood watching over her shoulder.

“You’d usually
get
something much rougher in here. Too early yet, I suspect.”

“Darn,” she whispered.

He stifled a chuckle behind her. “Well, aren’t you just the little sex hound?”