She's All In: Club 3, Book 1 (4 page)

Trace shuddered. “No relationships. I got your back on that one.”

Trace was the one who’d perfected the chat they each had with new female club member who wanted to have sex with them. Good-looking, always sharply dressed and with money to burn, Trace was a regular chick magnet. He’d actually had two women get into a cat fight over his favors one night at the club.
 

Contrary to popular male lore, it had not been fun to watch or to break up. Dack got bitten on his left forearm and Jake had some hellacious scratches to clean up. Both women had been put on probation at the club. The one who’d started it had since quit, thank God.

Not that Dack and Jake suffered from lack of companionship—there were plenty of women who went doe-eyed and weak in the knees for a dom who really focused on them, and the women seemed to like muscles just fine.

Jake just shrugged, but then they all knew he didn’t do vanilla dating.

The problem was, Dack was pretty sure Daisy could find plenty of other guys who would happily put a big diamond on her finger to have her. And by inviting her to the Club, he might be providing her with the place to find one.

Just because guys were into domination or submission didn’t mean they didn’t want a girlfriend or even a wife. There were several couples with Club memberships.

Would Dack be facilitating another happy couple or gaining a new playmate for himself? Only one way to find out.

Chapter Three

Daisy said good-bye to Sara and Carlie in the parking lot of Zellaby’s. She wanted nothing more than to head straight out to the Columbia River and go for a swim, forget her embarrassment in the pleasure of hot sun and cool water. But as she climbed into her oven-hot car and reached over to push the air-conditioning to its strongest setting, she saw the piece of flowered notepaper she’d tucked in the console where she couldn’t miss it—her shopping list.

She scowled as she pulled her sunglasses out and slid them onto her face. Her refrigerator was empty of anything but a half carton of yogurt and some limp lettuce, so if she wanted to eat, she had to buy groceries. She also needed a gift for her oldest sister. Dana’s fortieth birthday celebration was this evening, at their parents’ home in Forest Grove.

Dana was a partner in a law firm, her husband a dermatologist, so she could afford to buy herself anything she wanted. Daisy liked her own job as a secretary at WorldWide Realty, but it didn’t leave her a lot of money to buy expensive gifts. Luckily, her sister loved to read, so a book was always an appropriate gift and fit Daisy’s budget.

Cool air blowing on her face, she turned north on the boulevard, and of course the light turned red, so she had to stop directly in front of Big Iron Fitness. She scowled at the gym’s facade. Next time she saw Dack, the memory of her faux pas would hang between them like a flashing neon sign.

If only she didn’t have such a big mouth. She could almost hear her middle-school teacher, Ms. Lumley.
“Daisy, you’re a bright girl, but so impulsive. Try to think before you speak.”
Come to think of it, she’d heard that from her parents plenty of times too.

A horn sounded impatiently behind her, and she saw that the light had changed, the pickup in front of her already through the intersection. With a wave of apology, she followed.

Several blocks north, a large sign on the left beckoned shoppers to Cedar Hills Crossing, a mall that contained one of her favorite places. Powell’s City of Books main store was downtown in the heart of Portland, but while Daisy got a kick out of the colored staircases that led readers through the maze of books in the creaky old store, she loved the hip, minimalist style of Powell’s new satellite.

She found a parking spot in front of the mall entrance and hurried across the parking lot. Heat rose from the pavement as the afternoon sun scorched down. Her tank and skirt were damp with perspiration, although she’d showered less than two hours ago.

Inside the bookstore, it was cool and quiet, the tall shelves and display racks dividing the big space so that the separate areas had a feeling of hushed privacy. Ignoring the siren call of the romance displays, Daisy went straight to the literary fiction for the paperback version of a new bestseller. Then, gift chosen, she wandered through the racks toward romance.

On the way, she found herself in the self-help section. She’d read two books on healing in the last year, and they’d helped her a lot. Would she find anything interesting today? Addiction? No, not a problem. Weight loss? No, she wasn’t going on a diet regimen to lose those five extra pounds, so why fool herself? Exercise? No, she had Sara to coach her through workouts.

However, she slowed and then stopped in front of the section on sex. A shiny red paperback with black letters caught her eye.
Your Sexuality and You: Normal is Broader Than You Think
. Daisy glanced self-consciously in both directions, but the only other customer in the aisle was engrossed in the book she held.

Tucking Dana’s gift under her elbow, Daisy slid the book off the shelf and opened it. The authors were a man and a woman, both with plenty of degrees after their names, so she guessed they knew what they were talking about. She skimmed her fingertip down the table of contents and stopped on the title of chapter five, a thrill pinging through her.
BDSM: What it is, what it isn’t
. That’s what they called the kind of play Dack was into.

She flipped to that chapter and began to read.
BDSM. Bondage, domination, sadism and masochism. May also mean bondage, domination and submission.

We’ve all heard of it. The term is bandied about in popular fiction, especially erotica, with abandon, but what does it really mean? And what can it offer you in terms of sexual fulfillment? Is this practice within the bounds of healthy sexual behavior?

First, there are as many levels as there are people involved. BDSM can be anything from a total lifestyle to sexual play in the privacy of a couple’s home.

Daisy finished the page, her heart beating faster. She liked the authors’ straightforward way of putting things. They understood that maybe a person was intrigued but didn’t want to do anything disgusting, demeaning or dangerous.

She looked at the price tag. Twenty dollars, pretty steep for her budget along with Dana’s gift, but she really wanted this book.

“Can you put these in separate bags?” she asked at the register.

“Sure, no prob,” the tattooed clerk agreed. “Cash or card?”

Daisy paid, carried her two bags out to her car and tucked them in the trunk. Then she got into her car. She caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror and grinned gleefully. She was really going to do it. She was going to explore a little.

She’d known for a long time that she found the idea of being at a guy’s command sexually really hot. Of subjugating her will to his and, as Sara and Carlie had said, letting him figure out what would make her come. Increasingly, it seemed the only way she was going to work through her fears.

Especially after the disastrous end of her last date. Sam was a great guy, and she had tried so hard to want him. But she just didn’t. He was too nice. And when he’d asked if he could touch her, she’d been able to say no, so she hadn’t had to push through her fears.

Instinctively, she knew Dack was a different proposition. And now she knew why. He owned an actual sex club, holy moly. Bingo’s in downtown Portland was a sex club. But it was for swingers, people who wanted to share partners or have public sex, or watch. They didn’t have any activities more kinky than those, or none that they billed, anyway. Daisy had thought about going there but wasn’t interested enough to follow through.

But the woman at Big Iron had mentioned Jake spanking her, so Daisy was pretty sure Dack, Jake and Trace’s club was a place to find some kink. Her new book probably had some information about the kinds of activities they participated in and maybe even led. In front of other people.

She shifted in her car seat. Her panties were damp with more than perspiration. Just thinking about what might go on at this club turned her on. And thinking about Dack doing it to her turned her on a lot.

The Sunset Highway was backed up with Portlanders trying to escape the city on a beautiful summer Saturday, so she drove winding back roads to her apartment. Past older homes being fixed up by young couples, past small businesses hanging on and new mini-malls tucked amongst apartment complexes.

Her favorite grocery, FG Meyer, wasn’t crowded on a hot, sunny Saturday, so Daisy made it around the store in good time. But it was a big store. By the time her cart was full, she had only an hour to get her groceries home, wrap Dana’s book and get to her parents’ place. They lived a good twenty minutes from her apartment. If she didn’t get there reasonably on time, her mother would be worrying that something had happened to her youngest. She wouldn’t say anything, but she’d have that look in her eyes.

She managed to obey most of the speed limits on the way back home, but when she turned off into the parking lot of her apartment complex, it was blocked by a moving van. Two burly men were wrestling a sofa up the walk. Growling under her breath with frustration, Daisy backed up, drove the long way around on the street to the other entrance, and finally made it into her parking spot. Grabbing as many of her groceries as she could carry in one load, she headed for the outside stairs up to her second-floor apartment.

River Oaks was a typical bland apartment complex, painted beige with lighter trim, a few shrubs in the parking lot dividers. But it was shaded in the afternoon by the huge oaks that grew along the creek bank, there were security cameras in the parking lot, and the manager made sure repairs were done. No loud music was allowed past ten p.m. on weeknights and midnight on weekends.

Usually Daisy took the time to enjoy the view of the creek from her tiny balcony, but today she fumbled her door open, practically threw her perishables in her refrigerator and dashed back down for the second load.

She left the rest of her groceries sitting in their bags in her tiny galley kitchen. Grabbing the books, she slapped them down on her round oak table, checked to see which was Dana’s and then scrabbled in the cupboard for gift wrap and ribbon. She found those, but no scotch tape.

“Dammit, dammit.” She jerked open her junk drawer, searching for the tape.

Daisy found the tape wedged in the back of her chaotic utility drawer, with a piece of twine stuck to it. She really needed to tidy that drawer.

She decided to leave Dana’s book in the bag, using the bag as padding like tissue paper. In a few moments, the book was wrapped in chartreuse paper with bright turquoise ribbon, a birthday card tucked under the ribbon. Daisy gave it a pat of satisfaction and hurried into her bedroom to grab her swimsuit and cover-up.

When she pulled into the wide, circular drive before her parent’s home in Gresham, there were already two vehicles parked near the front entryway, a cream Cadillac SUV and a blue Lexus. Her sisters and their families were here.

Daisy unlocked the front door of the sprawling brick home and walked through the cool, tiled entryway and big, open kitchen. The smell of some savory potato dish filled the kitchen, and a large, chocolate layer cake sat on the broad island under a glass cake bell.

She paused inside the french doors leading to the backyard. Outside, the late-afternoon sun poured down, limning in gold the expanse of green lawn, terracotta-hued patio and turquoise pool. Dana’s two adolescent girls were splashing in the pool, nearly identical with their wet blonde hair and frilly swimsuits.

Daisy’s other sister Deb sat with her feet dangling in the water. Slender in her blue tank suit, she was wet from a swim, as was her husband. Antoine was as dark as she was blonde. They sat side by side, squinting into the sun, smiling at the people who sat nearby around the large glass-and-metal dining table under a shady umbrella.

Dana and her husband lounged at the table along with Daisy’s parents. Brightly wrapped gifts were piled before Dana, poised and chic in a red swimsuit with her dark blonde hair wet. Her husband, John, was as silver-haired as Daisy’s parents, though his lean face was unlined.

For a moment, Daisy watched them all, affection and reluctance tangled inside her. She loved her family dearly, but sometimes…it would be nice not to be the odd one out, the wounded duckling everyone treated so carefully. The baby of the family.

Taking a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and slid open the screen door to step outside. “Hi, everybody.”

“Oh, here you are.” Amid a chorus of hellos, Maura Charles rose and hurried around the table, trim in a sleeveless coral shirt and plaid shorts, her silver hair waving about her pretty face. She enveloped Daisy in a hug and looked her over approvingly as she stepped back. “Don’t you look pretty. That raspberry is really your color. Did you get tied up in traffic?”

“I went to the gym and then had lunch with the girls,” Daisy said. “Forgot to watch the time, sorry.”

“Oh, is that what it was.” Her mother patted her arm. “Well, here we all are. Together. Doesn’t happen that often these days.”

“Aunt Daisy,” shrieked her youngest niece from the pool. “Come swimming with us.”

“I will,” Daisy promised, leaning over to hug Dana, who returned it without getting up. “Happy birthday, sis.”