The Red Door (The Door Series Book 1) (2 page)

It was a month before I had graduated from high school. I was out with Becca and late getting home for curfew. This was fine with my parents as long as it was around curfew, and I was with Becca and not out on a date. Tonight was no different; I was thirty minutes late. Our friend Mark had begged us to go to a party. He had been gone all summer, then winter break, and spring break. Since he was in college, he didn’t get to see us at school anymore, either. We missed him and couldn’t wait to meet up. We stayed for a few hours, but his girlfriend kept him busy after the first initial hello. We left when the party wound down, and we got bored of waiting.

When we arrived at my street, the road was blocked. I remembered seeing a red haze covering everything. Without realizing, I jumped out of Becca’s car and walked toward my home, seeing it burning but not registering that it was my home. I had focused on how the flames changed colors and hopped and skipped as they licked up the side of my house. I passed the police cars and kept going. That was when it hit me. It was late and my parents trusted me enough to go to bed without waiting up. They would have been asleep. I looked around and couldn’t see them. Turning to the fireman, I grabbed him and asked over and over where they were. I turned and ran toward my home before being pulled back and turned into a chest while I cried.

I felt the tears rolling down my face as the white grandmotherly house came back into view. No matter how cute, I hated it. I didn’t want to see the remains from that night, but I also didn’t want my “home” so easily replaced. Then again, it had been four years, and the people who lived in this neighborhood probably didn’t like the reminder every day either. They couldn’t run from reality like I had done. I sat and stared at it for a long time, reminding myself to breathe and trying to see past the last memories to the good ones. It took a while to work through the red haze, but they started coming. I never knew that by blocking out their deaths and how they died, I also blocked off so much of the joy and happiness that came from them. The love they gave me and how I was taught to give.

My hands were shaking when I started the car. I knew where I had to go. I turned my car around to go to Becca’s house. Rebecca Young. She had been my best friend since kindergarten when she had put gum in my hair and I had dumped glue all over her new jeans while the teacher was out of the room. We were both sent to the principal’s office. When asked what happened, I said, “You don’t think it looks pretty in my hair?” Becca simply said she was starting a new style with her jeans. They sent us home with our parents, but the bond was there, and we became inseparable.

Becca was beautiful. She had caramel brown hair and golden brown eyes. She was fun and always up for an adventure. She had twin brothers, Jackson and Jasper, who were three years younger than us. Her mom, Michele Young, taught at the elementary school and her dad, David Young, built anything from houses to tables, dressers, and cabinets. Although she probably didn’t live there anymore, I could see her mom and give her the thanks she should have received four years ago. I knew I would not have survived if she hadn’t been there. She forced me to eat and go to school and shower, even if she couldn’t get me to interact with any of them.

As I pulled into their drive, I was relieved when it looked the same. Michele answered the door, and I didn’t get out more than her name before I broke down crying. Until today, I had not allowed myself to cry after that first week four years ago, so when Mrs. Young hugged me and I cried, I really cried. I let it all out, from what I had done in the last four years to why. She was the type of motherly woman you couldn’t help but trust with all your secrets and knew you would get only advice without scorn. She called Becca, who still lived in town and was an ER nurse at the hospital, and told her that I had finally come home.

Home
.

With that one word I felt a foreign warmth inside me spread, comforting and covering me, letting me know I had made the right decision.

Over the next week, I had a couple of job interviews and looked at more than a few houses. I was glad that I took the extra courses in college to make sure my license would reciprocate to Texas. I guess somewhere deep inside I always knew I would be coming back here. I hung out with Becca every chance I could. We took turns sharing everything that had happened over the past four years. Of course, this was one-sided since I had nothing to tell. But she told me all about her ups and downs, her wild college nights, and how she almost got married, but it proved to be a disaster in the making.

“Seriously the only thing good from our relationship was I got to go to his club. It was The Red Door.”

The Red Door. The first time I ever heard of it, I was eleven years old. I was eavesdropping on my mother, Brenda Hammond, and Aunt Lucy.

At the time, The Red Door sounded like a carnival. Area after area of entertainment, games, and rides. And to hear them, the cost to play wasn’t that high. I was so excited. I counted my money and planned my outfit.

A few nights later, Adam and Holly James came over for dinner. They were good friends with my parents and came over so often I thought of them more like family than friends. Adam had a younger brother who was often with them. His name was Alex.

AKA the bad James’ boy.

AKA the guy every girl fell for.

AKA my future husband.

I don’t remember when I decided that, but always having him around and watching me play, I never thought of him as a family member like I did Adam, only a cute older guy who would always be there. Plus, he always called me Angel. I liked having a nickname that only he called me.

I had been waiting for the perfect moment to ask to go. When it came, I plunged forth, leaving my dad speechless. To my dismay my mother replied softly, in the graceful way that only she could, that I would have to wait until I became an adult.

That night, I started adding everything I heard about The Red Door to my journal I had on Alex. Becca, being my best friend, agreed to listen for anything on it, too.

I kept up with both for years. Alex had joined the Marines after coming over to my house when I was eleven. I held onto the hope he would come back, writing down every detail I overheard about his short military career in my journal. But a year passed and then another. The fixation I had dwindled, the excitement I had felt hearing his name lost its importance. I hated the fact that I was naïve enough to think that someone like him, an idol to girls, would look at a girl who was a stick figure with weird eyes. I quit thinking of him, and I also quit thinking about the club. I packed away my journal, not wanting to see the dream man and life I had planned out or the club that promised to be so much fun.

But hearing the club’s name now and knowing what it was did things. It woke up feelings that I had buried so long ago.

“Oh. My. God. No way!” By this age, we both knew it wasn’t a carnival but a BDSM Club. We had found out early our senior year of high school. Knowing we would one day go, we did lots of research.

“Yes way!” Becca smiled. “It was awesome. It’s like a big sexy costume party. At least when I went it was because everyone wore a costume.”

“Costume? And what were you dressed up as?” I felt a smile coming up, knowing what the answer would be.

“Alice, of course! It was kickass. It was a white corset with blue lace around the edges and black buttons and black bow and ended right above my belly button. The skirt was blue with white and black tulle. Thigh highs with black bows and black high-heeled Mary Jane’s.” I laughed as soon as I knew I was right.
Alice in Wonderland.

“Of course. So, did you participate in any of the “rides”?” I did my fingers in quotation marks, knowing she understood I was asking if she had sex with anyone besides her ex, Trevor, while there.

“It isn’t only about sex, Ari. Even with all the research we found about these types of clubs and relationships, I still wasn’t prepared for the effect it had on me. When you go inside, you have to have an open mind. There are all types of relationships, and it’s up-front and personal. If you don’t want to see two guys going at it, a girl going down on another girl, or punishments being handed out, then you don’t need to go there, because you will see it as well as all other types of sex. But it is more than sex. It is the relationship the Masters have with their subs. It was beautiful to watch and very eye-opening. I do believe I am submissive, but that Trevor is most definitely not the Master for me.”

“Wow, Becca. With the way you’re talking, your voice changes into awe. You sound entranced.”

“I guess in a way I am.”

“How did you find out Trevor wasn’t the Master for you? I mean, how does one go about finding that? Or that you are submissive?”

“It was easy for me to find out. I didn’t know the rules and was a little shocked and a lot turned on as he led me around the different areas of the club. We made it back to the front when he left me to go visit with some people. He didn’t give me any instructions or tips, he just took off. I sat at the bar drinking a Coke, waiting. It’s more of the greeting area and although things can happen there, it is more restricted. I sat there and people watched for a while, thinking he was coming back, but after thirty minutes, I decided to explore some more. I saw a lot, and I liked most of it. There were some things I did not, and one of those things was Trevor having sex with a girl who had to have barely been eighteen, which was the minimum age to get into the club. When he saw me, he ordered me to join in.” She shook her head. “No, it is not that simple. He was ramming into this girl, who was on all fours. I could see her bottom, legs, and back were red, and Trevor held a paddle in his hand. I watched as he paddled her and asked her who her daddy was throughout all of this. When he saw me, he never quit. He told me to strip and lay down so his little slut could lick my cunt, that way it would be nice and slick for him when he was through with her. The girl turned her head and smiled. I recognized her from being in the same grade as Jackson and Jasper, a senior. She told me, ‘Come on. I am good at it, and Daddy loves to watch while he fucks us.’ ‘Us?’ I asked. ‘All his sluts. There are four of us now.’ That’s when I knew he was not the Master for me. I understand eighteen is the legal age to get in and that each person has their own turn-ons, but watching him use a girl so young was not one of mine. Her calling him ‘Daddy’ and wanting to please him because he treats her like a slut, definitely not one of mine. I mean, I didn’t even know he was into that type of relationship. If I hadn’t known the name of the club and all the research we had done on it, I would have been stunned when I got there. I could see from some of the other people standing around that it wasn’t their type either. At least not the way he was doing her. I turned and walked away. I wanted to ask how to get a membership but didn’t know who to ask and was too embarrassed.”

“Yuck. I would not like calling someone Daddy while having sex either.”

“I guess I am lucky I found that out before we were married. I knew he was keeping secrets but kept hoping he would open up to me on his own without me having to grill him. I never would have thought he was starting his own harem. I believed him when he told me he loved me. I feel a little used, but I am also glad that I went through that. It taught me to be more careful with whom I trust and that I may need to do more research on being submissive.”

“Why do you think you’re a submissive if you didn’t join in?”

“Because I didn’t turn away from the scenes; instead, for the most part, it turned me on. I wanted to join in as I watched how the Masters treated their subs. Even the ones getting punished, it was with love. Most of them at least. I came back home and researched it even more. I also joined a site for people with fetishes. There is a meet and greet called a munch coming up, and I am thinking of going.”

“Wow.”

“I will tell you they should hang a sign on that red door that says this is the entrance to Alice’s rabbit hole. Things will not be as they appear. Of course, the Queen is in leather and carries a whip. The Mad Hatter is the hottest and biggest man I’ve ever seen. Any girl and even some guys would sit naked at his feet any day. The Tea Party is an orgy where the crumpets are pussy, the tea is cum, and the time is counted by thrusts.” She gave me a huge Cheshire grin at her analogy.

“Becca, you are so bad.” I had tears rolling down my face from laughing so hard. “And you, dressing up as little innocent Alice. Yeah, right!”

“Hey now! I am not a ho-bag. Just because I like sex doesn’t make me a hoe. I’ve still been very choosy in my choice of partners, and even if you’re not as experienced as I am, you read through those girly magazines Mark brought over as many times as me,
Rory
.” I cringed at the boyish name Mark had always called me.

“Very informative reading.” I laughed. “Becca, do you think you can get me into this club?”

“In the words of Alice herself, ‘Curiosity often leads to trouble.’ Look Ari, I wish I could, but I have no clue. I would love to go back, but I was only a guest and accompanied by a member. Plus, that was over seven months ago, and I don’t even remember how to get there. It wasn’t in the most well-known area, if you get my meaning.”

Yes, my twenty-one-year-old friend quoted
Alice in Wonderland
. It was her favorite movie, and we watched it a million times growing up. She said it wasn’t well-known, but there were people who knew.