Welcome To The Pleasure Club
Dear Ms. Moore,
We're pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club.
As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you received your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match. We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy.
When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We're here to pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you can be reached.
Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club.
Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions.
The Pleasure Club Management
* * * * *
Your Pleasure Night will be held at the Carmichael Building in Room 690, Friday, May 2nd. Please knock on the door at precisely 9:00 p.m.
Your safe word is Grade.
The Pleasure Guardians
* * * * *
Oh, my God. It's really going to happen.
Celeste Moore tightened her fingers on the steering wheel and blew out a deep breath. She slowed down and picked up the directions she'd printed out on her computer, glanced at them, then dropped them back on the passenger seat. Lowering her right foot just a little bit, she watched the speedometer go from fifty-five to seventy. She couldn't wait for her evening of pleasure to begin.
She saw a liquor store off the freeway and thought about stopping to get something to settle her nerves, but she shook her head at the thought. She still had about ten miles to go, and she would never drink and drive. Besides, she wasn't much of a drinker anyway. If she even had one drink, she'd probably pass out. Even one ounce of liquor was too much for her.
The letter she received said her night would begin at nine o'clock. Her plans to arrive early so she she wouldn't chicken out were dashed when her mother called as she was on her way out the door. She couldn't rush her off the phone by telling her she had to be somewhere. Her mother would wonder where in the world she was going at this time of night. She couldn't very well tell her, "I'm about to go have sex with a complete stranger. And I asked for it."
So, she'd waited, impatiently, for her mother to finish telling her about her pregnant older sister, who'd just found out her second child was the boy she and her husband were waiting for. Her younger sister had just gotten engaged to the lawyer she'd been dating for the last two years. Which all led her mother to lament over the fact that Celeste wasn’t married, didn't have a boyfriend, or any prospects for that matter. She was too focused on her career. Why did she have to go to medical school? Why didn't she just find a doctor to marry instead so she could stay at home and have a truckload of babies?
Celeste was on a mission. She would not be her mother or her older sister. Never would she allow a man to dictate the role or plan of her life. Finishing undergrad at the top of her class, as well as medical school, she was now in her last year of residency in anesthesiology. Four more weeks and she would be moving to Atlanta, into a new house and new car, and would be working for a world renowned hospital, making three-hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year.
Tonight was her birthday, and she was going to celebrate it just the way she wanted.
Medical school took up so much of her time she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had sex. Her friend, Victoria, had confided in her a few months ago about The Pleasure Club. The next day nothing could keep Celeste from writing her own letter. The only thing on her mind had been finding someone just as fine and sexy. Not that she knew anything about getting sent to the principal's office. She just imagined being punished. Someone bending her over a desk, raising her skirt and doing all kinds of naughty things to her to make her scream.
Turning into the parking lot, she let her gaze wander over the other cars until she found an empty parking spot. A glance at the clock on her console read 8:55 PM. She had five minutes. Checking her appearance in her rearview mirror one last time, she applied another coat of lipstick to make her lips shine, and then grabbed her purse and her keys and got out of the car. She speed-walked through the entrance and found the elevator. As it dinged open, anxious flutters zinged around in her stomach.
It was almost time.
She'd always had fantasies about African American men, ever since she was a teenager in high school. The principal at her school had been so fine. She’d always imagined being sent to the office by one of her teachers for acting up in class. The secret crush she'd carried for him had lasted the entire time she was a student at Southwest High School. Always a good girl, she'd never gotten into trouble, nor had any reason to visit his office, so she’d had to admire him from afar. The fantasy had never died, though.
A few months ago, as she'd begun the momentous task of packing up her old room at her parents' house, she'd run across her high school yearbook, and all those memories and desires came roaring back. Then, a few days later, Victoria had told her about The Pleasure Club. It was as if fate told her to do this.
Now that she was here, she wasn't sure what to expect, but she was excited as hell to find out.
As the numbers on the elevator slowly lit up, one floor after the next, her excitement grew. She was about to have sex with a total stranger. Instead of being scared and timid, or ready to hit the first floor button to go back down as soon as the door opened, a deliberate smile crept over her face.
She needed this night. She wanted this night. Who knew when she'd get this opportunity again? For the next couple of weeks she was going to be tested over everything she'd learned in the last ten years. Celeste was going to sleep, live and breathe anesthesiology.
But, it would all be worth it when she got that huge diploma in her hand that said, Celeste Moore, Doctor of Anesthesiology.
After that, she was moving to Atlanta, into her new home, and into a career she’d dreamed about since she was sixteen years old. There wouldn't be any time for men, or even a relationship for that matter. Sex would be non-existent in her life for who knew how long.
Ding. The sixth floor. Celeste took a left off the elevator, following the signs.
I need this.
I want this.
When she looked at her watch, it was straight up nine o’clock. She took a deep breath, smoothed her plaid skirt over her hips and pulled down the tails of her perfectly starched white shirt. It was the closest thing to a schoolgirl outfit she had in her closet. Her heart pounded louder than the rapid knocks she placed on the door.
"Come in," a smooth, rich baritone voice said from the other side.
I’m really doing this, she thought as she twisted the knob and opened the door. The man who sat on the other side of the desk made the air hitch in her throat. Oh, my God! She took a step back, looked at the numbers on the door again to make sure she was in the right place.
How did she get so lucky? When Victoria told her how gorgeous her Pleasure Master the guy was—Officer Drake—she could only hope hers would be too. But this man, whoever he was, had pleasure written all over him. She couldn't tell how tall he was because he was sitting, but his upper body was coated in a dark, double-breasted suit. Blue or black—she couldn’t tell because the light in the room was dimmed low.
His caramel colored skin made her think of a ripe, red apple and the state fair she used to go to when she was a child. All she ever wanted to do was lick it and lick it until it was all gone, and then get another.
Lean fingers were tented in front of him, his elbows resting on the arms of his leather chair. Dark, sensuous eyes and a smooth covering of low-cut hair accentuated his high cheekbones, regal nose and strong chin. He was a work of perfection.
Now…if only he could fuck.
"Come in, Ms. Moore."
She stepped into the room. It was big for an office. A small conference table and chairs to the right and a couch and coffee table to the left flanked the large mahogany desk he sat behind. He waved to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. "Why don’t you have a seat?"
Still not sure what to say or what to expect, she nodded her head and sat.
"It has come to my attention that you got into a little trouble today in your health education class."
Oh, she thought with a smile, and sat up straighter in her chair. "I didn't do anything," she said and flipped her auburn, shoulder-length hair over her shoulder, away from her neck. She wished she had a piece of gum, then she could really get into her role of schoolgirl.
"Mrs. Brown told me you wouldn't cooperate in class."
She shrugged her shoulders and crossed her legs. "Didn’t want to."
His gaze dropped. "Why not?" He leaned back in his chair.
"I just didn’t."
"Do you have a problem with learning about sex education, Ms. Moore? It is something you really need to know."
"No. I don't have a problem learning it. I just didn’t want to learn it from her."
"She told me you were very disrespectful."
"Now you're being disrespectful to me. Do you know what happens to little girls when they're disrespectful…and naughty?"
A delicious shiver shimmied up her spine. She couldn't wait to find out.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever."
When he got up, she almost melted into the leather of her chair. He was tall, real tall. At least six-four. Her gaze roamed the length of him, and a sweet heat she hadn’t felt in a long time sizzled inside her.
He came around the desk and sat on the edge in front of her. Her gaze zoomed to his dick. Oh yeah.
"What happens to naughty girls?" She licked her lips, anticipating how wide her jaws would have to get when she put that magnificent piece of male flesh inside her mouth.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed a long, wooden paddle.
"I'm not scared of you," she said. But she visibly allowed a delicious shiver to cascade over her entire body.
With the handle of the paddle in one hand, he rubbed it back and forth with the other. "Oh, I think you should be afraid, Ms. Moore. Very, very afraid."