Chapter Three

The Night Owl was arguably the best bar in town for the drinks alone, never mind the nostalgia. Every time Sam walked in the place, it felt like home. He had years’ worth of memories there: back when he and Abby were dating, they used to grab a nightcap at the Night Owl after seeing a show, cozied up in one of the booths in the back where nobody bothered them. But now, it was the bastion of guy time, the favorite hangout for his CrossFit buddies after another grueling workout. He was last to arrive, the others already gathered around their usual round table in the front window, holding beers and mixed drinks.

They were an odd group: on the far side of the table sat Mitchell, the person Sam had met first when he joined CrossFit. Built solid and broad like a refrigerator, Mitchell, with his blond hair and crystal blue eyes, he had a sort of “European warrior” look. Next to him, Deshawn sat in stark contrast, short and lean, a light-skinned Black man with thin dreadlocks tied back. Deshawn was the scrappy sort of workout partner, the kind who could outlast almost anybody and was competitive enough to try to really do it. Rounding out the trio was Jack, average build, average height, a white guy with short, spiky brown hair and glasses. He’d joined their group most recently, a student at the university using CrossFit to unwind from the stress of his PhD program. They all looked up as Sam slid into the empty chair and joined them.

“Geez, did I take that long? You’ve all got drinks already.” Sam looked around for their server, who was nowhere to be seen.

“You take the longest showers.” Mitchell shook his head. “I managed to shower and get over here before you, and I walked.” He managed a cross between soft-spoken and no-nonsense, probably useful when he was running the kitchen at the Mapleton Pub. Out of everybody in this group, Mitchell was probably the one Sam felt closest to, but they didn’t really hang out outside of these guys’ nights and the gym.

“Walking’s easier, though,” Sam protested. “Parking’s a bitch.”

Deshawn, shaking his head, lifted up a glass in a toast. “Here’s to that, man. I’m in the garage.”

“The garage is a pussy move.” Jack shook his head. “Real men parallel park.”

Deshawn raised his eyebrows. “Dude, I saw you park, and you are like three and a half feet from that curb. Don’t give me shit about the garage when you’re out here parking like my half-blind grandma.”

Sam laughed, along with the rest of them, even Jack. He looked over the menu. “Mitchell, what’s good on tap right now?” There were perks to having friends who owned a brew pub.

“They’ve got one of our seasonal ones, and they also have an IPA that Ben’s been really into.” Mitchell raised his rocks glass. “I have had it up to here with beer right now, so I am drinking whisky.”

Sam ordered the seasonal beer, and conversation shifted to the holidays and what they’d done since they last grabbed a beer together, well before Christmas.

“You spent New Year’s at Abby’s college reunion?” Deshawn shook his head. “Reunions are horrible. Do you know how much shit my classmates give me about being a nurse?”

“Your classmates are assholes,” Mitchell responded before turning back to Sam. “How was the reunion?”

“It was actually pretty fun. I got to meet some of her old college friends.” Sam hadn’t minded at all, even without the kinky shit at the end. That wasn’t something he was going to bring up here, though.

“You mean her college boyfriends?” Jack grinned, drinking his beer.

Sam had gotten his beer by then, so he knocked his glass gently against Jack’s like it was a toast. “We’ve been married almost seven years, guys. It’s not like her past makes much of a difference anymore.”

Fat likelihood that was true, but these guys didn’t need to know the difference. Sam raised his chin to Mitchell. “What about you? You do anything fun over the holidays?”

Mitchell smiled the small, tight-lipped smile he often gave that seemed as though he had more going on than he let on. He was an enigmatic guy, a tough nut to crack, as it were. “Visited some family before the holiday, and then we stayed local. Ben made me close the restaurant on Christmas and New Year’s Day, so I actually had some rest.”

Ben. Ben ran the restaurant with Mitchell, shouldering the brewing half of their operation. His relationship with Mitchell, though, was a lot less clear. Sam had always just assumed they were partners, because they spent so much time together, but maybe they weren’t. It was difficult to know with Mitchell, and if he wasn’t telling, Sam wasn’t in a place to ask.

Even if he was curious from time to time.

By the time they got back to Jack, he was halfway done with his drink and had this mischievous, shit-eating grin on his face. “Listen. I know we don’t normally talk about this shit. But I have to tell you what Collette and I did over New Year’s.”

Deshawn put his glass down. “I know that look. It’s something freaky, isn’t it?”

Sam couldn’t help his own curiosity. Deshawn was right; they weren’t the type of guys to dish locker room talk at the bar, except maybe some innuendo and harmless jokes. Jack looked like he was gonna explode, though, actually vibrating with excitement.

Jack didn’t wait any longer for them to guess. “We went to a sex club!” he shouted. Realizing his volume, he ducked his head and repeated it, more quietly. “We went to a sex club.”

Mitchell put down his whisky. “Where is there a sex club in Mapleton?”

“Not in Mapleton. In Boston. There’s this club, and it’s invite only. Really high-class. But Collette, she knows the owners through her last roommate. And she got us an invitation.”

Sam shifted on his barstool. A sex club in Boston? He’d never been to one of those, never even knew what went on at one. Was that legal? So many questions started bubbling up, but the thought of asking them was embarrassing.

Thoughts of Abby flashed into his mind, of her insinuating that he wasn’t the type of person to push his boundaries. Well, he could be that kind of person. He just had to tap into that part of himself. “I don’t know what happens at a sex club,” he managed to ask out loud. “Is it just group sex?”

“Nah, not really.” Jack looked around again, but nobody was listening to them. “I mean, there’s some of that. The top floor is the ‘dungeon’”—he put it in air quotes—“where all the kinky shit goes on. The other floors are a little of everything. Some of it’s really chill, like a normal club, people out having a drink and chatting, but people fool around right there in the open. There’re rooms with two-way mirrors, and glory holes, and all the stuff that I seriously never thought existed outside of porn.” He shook his head. “Toys, sex swings, kinky stuff, you name it.”

“Was it weird?” Deshawn asked. “Seeing people fucking all around you?”

“Not as weird as I’d thought,” Jack said. “Mostly I had to get used to all the dicks.”

“Were you nervous?” Sam asked. He’d be nervous, obviously, but Jack probably wouldn’t admit it.

To his surprise, Jack laughed and nodded. “Hell yes. I almost chickened out, but I thought, what are my chances of ever getting to do something like this again? So I said yes.”

“So this was her idea, not yours?” Deshawn asked.

“Hers, definitely. No way I would have thought to ask her to do something like that. But she’s kind of a freak, and said it was always on her bucket list, so hell, why not?” Jack looked just delighted with himself, and his enthusiasm was contagious.

“You think you’ll go back?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a cool thing to do once, but I’m not sure if it’s really for me long-term.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head nervously. “I’m not an exhibitionist kind of guy, and Collette just wanted to try it once, I think. I don’t think it was something she’d want to do again, either.”

Out of the group, only Mitchell had been silent, thoughtfully contemplating the whole conversation. Deshawn nudged him. “Nothing to say over there, Mr. Silent?”

Mitchell smiled. “I was just wondering if it’s something I might want to try in the future.”

Well damn, that made Sam look at Mitchell again. The guy was so full of secrets, never letting out anything about his relationship.

“If you’re interested, let me know,” Jack said. “Collette can get in touch with you. Her friend said any friend of ours is a friend of hers, or something like that. Anyway, invite’s open.”

The idea was fully formed in Sam’s mind before he’d consciously thought about it, and he turned back to his beer with a new plan.

By the time he got home that night, after finishing his beer and conversation with the guys, Abby was in the shower. Pottery was a messy endeavor, and on studio nights, she liked to take a long, hot shower to relax and clean up. He opened the door to the bathroom, steam rushing out past him and dissolving in the cooler air of the bedroom as he stepped inside.

“That you?” Abby asked from behind the curtain.

Sam smiled. “Nope. I’m a masked stranger, here to ravish you.”

Abby peeked out at him. Her red hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head to keep it dry, and without her makeup, she looked like she could be college-age again. She gave him a smile. “I don’t know. I’m so tired from all those other masked strangers, I might not have energy to service another one.” She ducked back behind the shower curtain.

“Bummer. I’ll just have to take my first fantasy elsewhere, then.”

Abby reemerged from behind the curtain, pulling it back enough that he could see the curve of one breast. “Your fantasy is a masked stranger fantasy?”

“No. I’ve got something else.” He didn’t want to pitch it like this, though. “I’ll wait until you get out.”

Abby pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Okay. I’ll hurry up.”

“Take your time.” Sam waved her off and returned to the living room.

She came out in record time, wearing pajama pants and a loose tank top, her hair now down from its bun. “All right,” she said before she’d even come all the way into the room. “Let’s hear it. Your first fantasy.” She sat next to him on the couch, one leg folded up beneath her.

He’d been rehearsing different ways to ask or say this, but direct seemed best. “There’s a sex club in Boston, and I want you to go with me.”

Abby blinked. “A sex club?” She tipped her head to the side, uncertainty in her expression. “Like where people go and watch other people fuck? You know a place like that?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.” He had already messaged Collette by way of Jack before driving home. “I know about one, and I can get us onto the guest list.”

Abby was sitting upright, her body posture tense, and studied Sam like she just didn’t know what to make of him. “Do you want to fuck other people?”

“What? No!” Where did she get that idea? “I want to watch other people with you. Maybe do a bit of fooling around of our own, if you’re up for that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Abby looked hesitant, and he hadn’t expected that.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he said quickly. “If you’re not comfortable, we can call this whole thing off. Or I can share a different fantasy.”

Abby shook her head. “No. I’m game.”

“You ever been to a sex club before?”

She gave a short laugh. “Definitely not.”

“All right.” He pulled out his phone. “How’s next weekend?”

…

This definitely wasn’t what Abby had pictured when Sam had mentioned sex club. This wasn’t a nightclub, or a seedy-looking building with a bouncer out front, and there were no bright neon signs or anything to give away the purpose at all. But the address on Sam’s phone matched this nondescript brownstone building in front of them, right on the outskirts of Cambridge, not far from fucking Harvard itself.

“This looks like somebody’s house.” She glanced around at all the other businesses on the block. “You sure we’re at the right place?”

“Collette said we wouldn’t recognize it from the outside.” Sam put his phone in his pocket and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.”

Abby pulled her long coat more tightly around her and walked with him up the stairs. All week, she’d been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. The Sam she knew would never have suggested they go to a sex club. She hadn’t even been sure he knew sex clubs actually existed; hell, she’d kind of thought they were legendary as well. Three possibilities existed: either he was into all these things and had been hiding his true self from her, he wasn’t into any of it but doing it to prove something to himself or to her, or maybe he wasn’t sure and was open to trying it out. The first option was unsettling, because it would mean she didn’t know him at all. The second option was frustrating, because it meant he was doing stuff he didn’t like for a stupid reason. The third option, though, was the most intriguing. If he was at least somewhat interested in what they were doing, then maybe Angela was right, and they had some “spice up” potential. Any minute, though, he was probably going to turn around and tell her he wasn’t up for this.

A short, plump young woman waited right inside the front door, at a sort of hostess stand. She looked like she should be selling them a mortgage, all chipper attitude and business attire, with wide, friendly eyes that didn’t fit Abby’s mental image of “person who takes names at a sex club.”

The host scanned through a list of names on her tablet and found them. “It says here you’re first-timers.” She smiled and set her tablet down. “Welcome. I’ll go over the ground rules with you before you go in, and they’re posted in several places in case you forget. First, watching is encouraged, but no touching unless you’re invited to do so. Any form of verbal or physical harassment will result in being removed from the club. We recommend fluid barriers and provide them in each room. Please clean up after yourselves. If you would like a break, this first room you’re going to enter is a designated sex-free lounge. Street-legal dress is required in the lounge, but other than that, beyond this door, clothing choices are up to you. The dungeon on the third floor has its own set of rules posted outside, so please familiarize yourself with those if you’d like to make use of that space. Do you have any questions?”

Abby and Sam looked at each other and shrugged. That all seemed to be pretty much common sense.

“All right, then, here’s a map of the space.” She handed them a photocopied map of the building layout, which someone had labeled by hand to indicate all the various rooms. She tapped a spot on the map. “Right past the lounge are changing rooms and places to store your things if you need them.” She flashed them a bright smile. “Have fun tonight!”

The lounge just past the door was dimly lit, especially after the brightness of the foyer, and Abby stopped short as her eyes adjusted. The music was fairly quiet, too, soft jazz that blended with low sounds of conversation. A few couples were chatting quietly, wrapped in robes or wearing street clothes, one pair just cuddled together on a loveseat. They hung up their coats in the coat closet. Abby had gone with a little black dress for the night, simple and classy, but she’d second-guessed the decision a few times, considering fancy lingerie or something a bit slinkier than this simple cocktail dress. Now, she was happy to be wearing a full outfit. Already, her heart beat in her throat, tight with anticipation and uncertainty. She’d never done anything like this before, and Sam had been pretty vague about his interest.

His hand on the small of her back grounded her. “You ready to go on? Or you want to stay in here for a while?”

At the other end of the room, two changing room doors flanked a central door leading to, presumably, the rest of the club.

“I didn’t come to a sex club to stay in the lounge.” Hopefully she sounded braver than she felt as she took his hand. “Come on.”

Past that door, a pulsing bass beat drowned out the smooth jazz from the lounge. Here was the sight Abby had been expecting. One wall was resplendent with a full bar lit in blue, where a bartender mixed drinks for two completely naked women chatting with him. One section of the room was a dance floor, complete with poles, although no one was dancing. On the other side of the room, couches and love seats hosted numerous couples and small groups, mostly half or completely naked, all engrossed in their partners.

Abby stopped short. The woman at the front had said that watching was encouraged, but no one there was watching. Everyone was…participating. This didn’t feel as sexy as it had at the reunion, when they’d been hiding and trying not to get caught. Her stomach fluttered with a wave of uncertainty, and Sam touched her back once more, just as he had done in the other room.

“You want to get a drink?” he asked.

The bartender greeted them with a warm smile and a nod. He was a handsome guy rocking a full beard and the hipster look, complete with suspenders and bow tie. “First time?” he said loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Is it that obvious?” Abby climbed onto one of the stools near the naked women, who were still there in conversation with each other. Sam sat beside her.

“A little.” The bartender smiled. “But don’t worry. It’s everybody’s first time at some point.” He extended a hand. “I’m Bill. I own the place.”

They introduced themselves as Abby’s jitters settled into a low background hum instead of intense quaking. They ordered drinks, and finally, Abby let herself look around in more detail. She couldn’t hear much over the music, and maybe that was the point. People could lose themselves in here, in the patterned lights and the throbbing bass line.

Bill passed them their drinks across the counter. “You know, if you want something a bit less noisy, keep heading down the hall. The next room might be more your speed. Feel free to take your drinks.”

Sam paid and tipped, sliding close enough to put an arm around Abby’s waist. “Let’s go check it out,” he said.

As soon as the door closed behind them, leaving them in a short hallway, the music sounds faded down to just the pulsing bass. This hallway had two doors on each side, each bearing a sign. The first door on both sides was labeled “to be watched,” and the second, “to watch.” At the end of the hallway, a single unlabeled door led into the room beyond, and that’s where Abby headed.

The quiet sounds of sex hit her ears before anything else. Something about that noise thrummed a chord inside her, lighting fireworks along her nerves even with no one touching her. This room was as large as the previous one, lit by dim lights and candles, with two king-sized beds and a handful of couches. Caught up in the events happening in front of her, Abby edged over to an empty couch and sat. She took one sip of her drink and set it aside, drawn instead to this scene.

On the bed closest to her, a woman lay stretched out, naked, her long brown hair loose across the pillow. A man lay alongside her, his mouth on her breast, his other hand gently tweaking her other nipple, completely focused on her body. They weren’t alone, though; another man knelt between her legs, holding her thighs apart, working her over with his mouth.

Sam sank down beside Abby, also staring at the scene in front of them. Their couch faced the side of the bed, where they could see everything. The woman had her head turned toward them, eyes closed but lips parted, and in the quiet of the room, each of her breaths was audible. Abby was breathing in rhythm with her before she realized it, shallow, soft breaths, like she was the one being pleasured. The man between her legs was taking his time, wet noises intimate and nearly obscene.

Sam’s body pressed warm against Abby’s side, turning toward her, one hand moving to her thigh and burning her skin through the fabric of her dress. “You like watching?” he murmured, so low no one else could hear. “Like the other night on the porch?”

Abby nodded, not wanting to make a sound and disturb everything. She was wet. She pressed her legs more tightly together, a tiny shiver of intensity racing through her groin.

Sam draped an arm over her shoulder and began to idly brush his fingertips across her breast. Her nipple poked against the fabric of the dress, and his touch barely registered, tiny ticklish brushes sending shivers all through her body. She was already sensitive, and his too-light touch was making her even more sensitive. Maybe he knew. Pressed against her like this, he could probably feel her response, the way her breath quickened, nipple tightening into a sharp peak. And still, gentle, endlessly gentle brushes.

His other hand inched below the hemline of her cocktail dress, then began to skim lightly upward.

Abby’s breath caught as Sam brushed the juncture of her thighs. She wasn’t wearing underwear, Sam’s only directive for tonight, and when he coaxed her legs apart, the air brushed cold over her superheated skin. She turned to speak, but he chose that moment to twist her nipple through her dress and swallow her sharp gasp of pain.

“Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “Watch.”

The woman on the bed gasped louder, drawing Abby’s gaze, and Sam slipped his fingers up between her folds to find her clit. Two fingers pressed against it, hard, and a jolt like lightning sizzled all the way up through her body. Abby gasped, shock and surprise and arousal all in one. The woman in front of her gripped the sheets beneath her, her pale skin flushing pink, tossing her head from side to side as her expression wavered between pleasure and pain. The man who had been sucking her breasts was whispering to her now, his hands still teasing her skin, murmuring something no one but them could hear.

“She’s going to come.” Sam’s voice came so close in her ear. “I wonder if he’s reminding her that everyone’s watching.”

Abby shivered. If it were her on that bed, that’s what she’d want, the tantalizing reminder of her own vulnerability and helplessness. Just the thought of it made her pussy throb as Sam’s steady, talented fingers worked her over.

Sam nipped her earlobe. “People are watching you, you know.”

Abby tried to turn her head to see, but Sam shushed her. “No. Watch the bed. The couple next to us keeps looking over here. And at the foot of the bed, there’s a man who’s watching you more than he’s watching her. Do you like that?”

She whimpered, the noise tumbling out at the mere thought of this. Words wouldn’t come, so she nodded. She loved the thought of it, loved it even as it made her blush all the way to her hair, the conflicting embarrassment and arousal potent as a drug. Between her legs, Sam still teased her tender clit, dragging his fingers up and down, lighting every one of her nerves on fire.

On the bed, the woman was starting to shudder, her hips twitching, and the man eating her pussy held her more tightly. Her gasps became moans, broken, needy, desperate, the kind of noises Abby was so close to making herself, noises of overwhelming desire. Abby’s clit throbbed with each pass of Sam’s fingers. Finally, the woman on the bed arched up, shuddering, her mouth open in a keening cry. Abby moaned, pussy clenching once around nothing, and fuck, she wanted this, wanted to come, wanted this teasing to escalate until she, too, was crying out in pleasure.

The woman writhed away from the man who had his arms locked around her thighs, unable to escape him, twitching from what must be too much sensation. “Please,” she sobbed.

Finally, the man released her, and both of them lay on either side of her, kissing her and then each other as she shuddered into silence. Abby’s pulse thrummed in her veins, her body still so tense and unfulfilled.

“You want more?” Sam asked into her ear, and she nodded. He smiled and moved his fingers out from between her legs.

She whined, hips chasing his hand from reflex, and he chuckled. “You like it when they’re watching you, don’t you?”

She hadn’t exactly hidden that well, had she?

“How about those rooms in the hallway?”

Abby shifted on the couch to look more directly at Sam. The threesome on the bed still lounged together, resting in the afterglow. Around them, some people were getting up and leaving, others were getting further into their own action. No one was paying her and Sam much attention anymore.

“The rooms in the hallway?” They’d had “to be watched” and “to watch” signs. She could figure out the rest. “You want people to watch us?”

“I was thinking of something else.” He seemed hesitant, the first time all night. “I’d really like…to watch you.”

Abby swallowed. Could she do that? Be alone in a room while Sam watched her, probably through a peephole or two-way glass? Her body still twitched with pent-up arousal, desire mingling with all those heady hormones in her blood.

“Will you be the only one watching me?” she asked.

“Do you want me to be?”

Of course he would ask. She closed her eyes. Sam had taken her here, had already done more than she’d expected. Maybe she could dip a toe in and admit some of her own exhibitionism. “I…am okay with it either way.”

Sam made his own needy, low noise, a growl, and caught her behind the neck to kiss her. His mouth pressed hard against hers, devouring, and heat bloomed all over Abby’s skin. There was no way she’d say no to any of this, no matter what he wanted, not when this so clearly turned him on.

He pushed away, like he had to force himself to break the kiss. “Come on.”

…

Abby stood in front of the bed and stared at the large two-way mirror on the wall. All she could see was herself: long red hair, flushed skin, black cocktail dress hugging her curves. On the other side of that mirror was Sam, and maybe other people. She’d locked this door so no one else could come in. Here, she was alone, and whatever she chose to do, he’d be watching.

He’d be watching, and he might not be alone. She had no way of knowing.

That was the hottest part, honestly; the uncertainty tingled in her blood like the alcohol. Sam could be the only one on the other side of this mirror or he could be part of a crowd, everyone captivated by the sight of her. She might as well put on a show, right?

She reached behind her back to unzip the dress, then carefully, slowly, peeled it off her body. With each inch, she revealed herself to the mirror and the watchers beyond. It pooled on the floor, and she bent to toss it onto a nearby chair. She wore only a lace bra beneath it, no garter belts or stockings tonight, nothing to get in the way. The lace did not conceal anything about her full breasts and hard pink nipples, and she unfastened it to toss aside. Now she was naked, for God and everyone, her own body completely visible in this mirror. Not having to look at her audience was easier; she could imagine whatever she wanted, whether it was someone watching or not.

She imagined someone watching.

Her hands skimmed over her curves, lingering on her breasts, full and sensitive. She gently rolled her nipples between her fingers, eyes falling closed. Her nipples were a direct line to her clit, tiny sparks of pleasure escalating fast even without more contact. Her whole body tingled like a live wire tonight.

She needed more.

Abby lay back on the bed and turned her head to stare at her own reflection in the mirror, one hand skimming down to her already swollen clit. Sam had turned her on so much, and the lightest touch made her gasp. She began to rub faster. She was going to come like this, for Sam and everyone, letting total strangers watch her in this most intimate moment. She’d never done anything like this before. She’d fooled around with boyfriends in public places, sure, mastered the whole Campus Twenty, but she wasn’t the one being pleasured, being vulnerable. She wasn’t the one being watched. Now, she was the object of their stares. It was enough to make her pussy drip.

If only she had a cock inside her. Reaching her other hand down between her legs, she slid two fingers inside to fuck herself. That felt so good, that width to clench around, not as good as a cock but still enough to make her sigh. Could they hear her? Maybe her sounds were amplified in there, the small room listening to every moan and gasp, every wet, slick sound of her fingers working in and out. She was already on the edge, body teetering toward climax, and she slowed down and forced herself to wait.

This was torturous, this edging, and she never did it with Sam. She let him take her to climax without delay, loving to share that pleasure with him, but sometimes when she was alone, she made herself wait. Just like this, holding off at the edge, lingering until she thought she might scream. Even now, her body yearned for that rush, that release, and she forced her breathing to slow, unclenching her muscles, fighting the gorgeous inevitability. Nothing else made her feel so out of control, so desperate. If Sam were doing this to her, she would do anything for him right now, yield to any of his wishes.

He could ask her to beg.

He could ask her to use a toy, to fuck herself on it for the amusement of her audience.

He could bring in someone else, another man watching her play with herself, and tell her to fuck him. And she would say yes.

She clenched reflexively once, pussy spasming around her fingers at just that thought, and that was it. Her climax slammed into her, doubly strong for having been delayed, and she curled up off the bed with the intensity of the waves. Her whole body tensed as pleasure-pain ripped through her, taking her breath in gasps and cries, leaving her wracked with trembling so fierce she couldn’t stop. It went on forever, waves and waves of spasms, the climax wringing her out until finally, she collapsed back on the bed.

She took a few moments to come back to herself. The mirror stared back at her, revealing nothing but her own exhausted form, until she finally rose to clean up and get dressed.

Sam met her in the hallway. He was waiting there, face flushed, cock a hard line in his pants. “Fuck,” was all he said before pulling her into his arms and kissing her, hard.

They stumbled down the hallway back toward the bar, tumbling through the door into the bass-blasting music and patterned lights. A couch was open, and Sam was already pushing Abby down onto it before she could catch her breath.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked, already pulling at the hem of her dress. “I want to be inside you.”

“Yes, God, yes.” She had just come, but his desperation had her hot all over again. Sam freed his cock and rolled on a condom with fumbling fingers before thrusting, hard and long inside her.

It was messy, fast, frantic, and Abby could barely keep up, gasping for air as Sam fucked her hard on this couch. He reached between them to find her clit, still too sensitive, but the pain sparked inside her like pleasure, and she was climbing to orgasm again before she could catch her breath. She came in another rush of intensity, squeezing around his cock, and Sam groaned and cried out before coming inside her.

He sagged on top of her, and they both lay together, panting. Finally he said, “Holy shit.”

Abby started laughing. She couldn’t help it. She started shoving at him, still chuckling. “Get off me. We’ve got to clean up.”

…

They’d both lost their drinks somewhere along the way, so when they had recovered, Sam ordered them some new ones from the bartender, who didn’t make a big deal at all out of the fact that he’d just seen them fuck like crazed animals on the couch in the corner of the room. He and Abby composed themselves and sat together on that couch, way more relaxed than before, drinking their drinks while the music thumped all around them.

“So.” He twirled a strand of her long red hair around his finger, and she leaned into the touch, smiling lazily. “You having fun?”

“I’m doing all right.” Her cheeky grin implied she was doing more than all right. “How about you? This living up to your fantasy?”

A twinge of guilt flickered in Sam’s stomach. This wasn’t one of his fantasies, not exactly. He’d chosen something sexy, something wild, something he’d been curious about, but it wasn’t like he had been jerking off thinking of Abby at a sex club.

Although, after watching her through that two-way mirror, he’d be thinking of it in that situation a lot more in the future.

He let the lock of hair drop from his finger, then stroked his palm over the back of her head. “Everything I’d hoped for.” It wasn’t a lie; he’d hoped they would both have a good time, and this had far surpassed what he considered to be “a good time.”

He’d had a sense about her exhibitionism kink, teasing it out through little hints, but she had been even more into it than he’d expected. They’d watched each other in the past, but never like this, never with this level of intensity and the public element. Now that he’d seen her perform, lose herself in the act of putting on a show, he wanted more of it.

Abby turned to face him more directly, pulling one leg up beneath her on the couch. She seemed to hesitate on this question for a moment before asking it. “Were you the only one watching me?”

He had been. He’d locked the door, actually, so no one else could come in. He’d done it out of instinct. But he hadn’t told her that, and as several emotions flicked over her face, he considered his options. “Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want to imagine it how you wanted it?”

In the blue-tinted lighting of the room, her face still flushed. Interesting. She visibly mulled over the question before answering. “I…think I want to know.”

He could lie. That normally wasn’t in him; he wasn’t the type of guy to lie about anything. Seeing her different emotions, though, the urge welled up inside him to fabricate an incredible story about a dozen people watching her, all of them hanging on her every move. That might be her fantasy, but actually, it was his. Realization hit him hard. He wanted other people to watch her. He shouldn’t have locked the door. He should have let people in, because then he could have experienced the way they became as captivated with Abby as he was.

“I was alone.”

She sagged slightly, relief and disappointment flickering over her expression in tiny micro movements of her eyes and mouth. With her mixed reactions, something lingered under there, the exhibitionism he’d been starting to understand.

“Do you wish I hadn’t been alone?”

Abby averted her eyes, biting her lip. Obviously, the answer was no, based on her response, but he needed her to say it out loud. She’d been holding back a number of her fantasies, and this game was supposed to make her confess them. He needed the truth. Otherwise, how could he ever know if he was enough for her?

She brought her drink up to her lips and took a sip. She answered him, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the music, and he asked her to repeat it.

“I thought about other people being there.” Her cheeks flushed darker. “It was kind of hot. I’ve never been watched like that before.”

“What about the Campus Twenty?” She’d obviously performed for an audience in the past.

“That was about the guys. It’s different when it’s about me.”

That made sense. “Right. Because when it’s about you, you’re the vulnerable one.”

“Exactly.” She nodded, relaxing a bit. “You get it.”

“Do you like being vulnerable like that?”

Abby grinned and ducked her head again, which he had not expected. She was just full of surprises tonight, loosened up by the situation and maybe the alcohol. “Yeah, I do.”

“I think it’s hot.” That was an understatement; her vulnerability jolted his arousal like an electric shock to his senses.

“Really?” She pursed her lips, dubious.

“Definitely.” Watching her lie on that bed, head thrown back, whimpering as she held herself on the edge of climax, making herself wait…the thought of it made his cock twitch, even if he’d just come so hard he’d nearly blacked out.

Abby threw back another long swig of her drink and swallowed, the muscles of her throat drawing his eyes to her long neck. “You know,” she said, “you’re a surprising guy. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

Abby laughed. “That’s fair. I don’t know if I’m flattering you or insulting you.”

He gave her a gentle shove, making her laugh more, and knocked back his own drink. This felt more like the Abby he knew, her fun and playful side, but less straitlaced than usual. This was the side of her he’d suspected beneath that composed veneer. His own fantasies, though, were a surprise: he’d never given much thought to voyeurism, and yet tonight was hotter than he’d imagined it could be.

“You know, the next fantasy is yours.” He squeezed her thigh. “You thinking about what you’re going to bring up?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” She tapped a finger against her lips.

“So many to choose from?” He tried not to sound nervous; if she brought up something really out there, he’d have some choices to make. He could go along with it, prove his open-mindedness to both of them, or he could admit that it was too much for him and live with the knowledge that they weren’t sexually well-matched. The latter was untenable.

Abby made a noncommittal noise. “I have something in mind, but I don’t think you’ll go for it.”

The challenge raised some competitive desire in Sam, adrenaline suddenly flooding his system. “Try me.”

She was still considering, eyes narrowed in thought, her smile now more contemplative and a bit mischievous. “Okay. How about BDSM stuff?”

“Like what?” He may not know much, but he knew enough to know that there were a lot of different ideas wrapped up in that acronym. “You want me to tie you up and spank you or something?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” She shrugged. “But I was thinking more like…control. Like you tell me what to do and I have to obey you.”

“I don’t want to tell you do to stuff you don’t want to do.”

“No, not like that.” She sighed. On the next couch over, a couple started undressing enthusiastically, mid make out, clothing pieces scattering everywhere. Abby gestured toward the door. “Can we go into the regular lounge?”

The regular lounge, with its street-legal clothing requirements and soft jazz, was a sensory reprieve after the thumping music of the bar. They found a corner with a soft leather sofa and sank into it together. Abby was still nursing her drink, and she took another sip before starting her explanation again, this time much quieter to suit the ambiance. “I wouldn’t do stuff I wouldn’t want to do. But it’s kind of hot to be vulnerable, like we talked about before.” She set her glass aside on an end table and twined her fingers together in her lap, shifting with nervous energy. “My fantasy is that you would be my Dom, for a little bit. You tell me what to do and I obey. I could always use a safe word, like ‘red’ or something, and we’d stop. It’s just that sometimes I think about not being in control.”

In the golden light of this room, her blush was much more prominent, the deep red of shyness indicating that yeah, this was her real fantasy.

He’d never given much thought to this kind of thing. BDSM was something other people did, people with leather and whips, who were really into pain. He wasn’t really into pain, giving or receiving. Seeing Abby hurt would be a huge turnoff. And telling her what to do? What if she hated the idea of it? She’d said she could use a safe word, but even so, he’d have to take charge on everything. He would need to be firm with her, to tell her things and make her obey.

If he’d been in that room with her tonight, he could have been telling her what to do, commanding her to touch herself in a certain way. She would have obeyed him, yielding her pleasure to his wishes, trusting him to take care of her.

His cock twitched, just a bit, blood rushing into his too-sensitive shaft.

Oh.

“Okay.”

Abby raised one eyebrow. “Okay? You’ll do it?”

“Yes.” He’d have to do some research, for sure, figure out more about this BDSM thing and what Abby might like. “But if you want to try this with me in the future, I think we should go to the dungeon now and watch.”

Abby blinked, mouth open, and then picked up her drink and downed the rest of it in one gulp. She shivered, from the alcohol or from nerves, he couldn’t be sure. “All right. Let’s go.”

The dungeon, ironically set up on the top floor instead of in the basement, had a posted list of rules next to the staircase that resembled the rules from the hostess, but more complete. There were additional regulations about medical play, needles, blood, stuff he didn’t even want to contemplate because it was so far outside of his interests. But this baseline idea of commanding her and making her obey, he could do that. While they were in a building with an actual dungeon, they’d be foolish not to check it out.

The staircase opened up directly into an open loft space lit with dim red lighting, music steadily pumping through the space. The room was filled with furniture, different structures Sam didn’t recognize but whose use was pretty obvious. A bench near them sat empty, and he stepped closer. The workmanship was solid, carved hardwood frame and smooth leather padding, metal eyelets for attaching cuffs.

Behind him, Abby started laughing, making him turn. “Did you seriously just examine the furniture before you noticed the naked people?”

Right, naked people. More than half the structures were occupied, a lot of action taking place all around them, and he’d checked out the bench. He had to laugh at himself. “I’m into design. I can’t help it.” He took her hand and pulled her over to an empty couch. “Come on. Let’s sit and watch.”

Most of the action in this room was impact related: moaning people were being hit with a variety of objects: hands, paddles, crops, other things he didn’t know the names of. Most were bound. Off to one side, a woman was tying up her female partner in an elaborate rope harness, preparing to suspend her from a giant wooden frame. Sam’s attention gravitated toward the neatness of her rope work, the smooth motions of her hands as she wove cord into knots.

“Is this something you’ve done before?” he asked. “Your other partners ever tie you up or spank you?”

“Not really.” She shifted, leaning against him. Her whole demeanor was more relaxed than he’d expected, being surrounded by this kind of ambiance. “I had a boyfriend who’d spank my ass a little bit during sex, but it wasn’t this kind of thing.”

“So why do you think you’d like it?”

Abby paused, watching a couple over in the corner. She was tied to a large upright wooden X on the wall, blindfolded, her nipples weighted with painful-looking clamps. Her partner held a vibrator up between her legs, pressed against her, and her pleading became loud enough to hear as they watched.

“Please, Sir, please let me come,” she sobbed, crying and twisting.

“No.” He pulled the vibrator away, and she sagged in her bonds, her cries pitiful. After a moment, he pressed the toy against her once more.

She ratcheted quickly to the edge again, muscles tensing, back arching, and her thighs began to quiver. “Please,” she begged once more. “Please let me come.”

He pulled the vibrator away again. “No.”

Next to him, Abby had gone very still. She watched with a kind of hypnotized expression, transfixed by the scene, and every muscle in her body was as tense as if she were the one experiencing this kind of torture. It was like she’d forgotten that he’d asked her a question. Maybe she’d forgotten he was even here. The man with the vibrator tortured the woman over and over, denying her five more times before she was a whimpering, incoherent mess. Then he took the toy away and began to stroke her with his fingers, light touches that also had her soon sobbing and writhing.

“What would you do to come?” he asked, loud enough for the room to hear.

“Anything,” she begged, thrusting into his hand.

“When do you get to come?”

She responded immediately. “When it pleases you, Sir.”

Abby’s breath was shallow, her eyes dilated, hands clenched on her thighs as she watched them. In the time since they’d sat down, she’d sat up straighter, almost leaning forward, captivated.

Sam stroked a gentle hand down her back, reminding her that he was next to her, and she glanced over before looking back at the scene. She’d done this to herself, back in the room downstairs: held off her orgasm impossibly long. She wanted him to control her. Maybe he could do it like this. He could tease her, get her needy and desperate, just like the woman across the room right now, begging and squirming on the hands of that man. Her Dom. Abby was so controlled, even in her playfulness. He could take that control away from her, and she wanted him to do so. She’d shown hints of it before and now said it outright. He could strip that composed exterior down and make her submit. Thinking about this had him half hard again.

He leaned closer to Abby’s ear. “You wish you were her?”

Abby’s lust-blown eyes were all the confirmation he needed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you like the thought of me controlling you like that?” Sam’s heart had begun beating faster, too, knocking against his ribs.

Abby licked her lips. “Yeah. But I can’t really picture it.”

Of course she couldn’t picture it. He’d been sweet, loving, and affectionate, ten years of compassion, and apparently that meant she couldn’t see him as anything other than her caring husband. That was good, in so many ways. But he could see the appeal of deviating from that standard, shifting from her sweet lover to the controlling Dom who forced her to submit to more pleasure than she could take. And if it was out of his comfort zone? Fine. He could step outside his comfort zone and show her that she’d been underestimating him all this time.

The girl on the X sobbed again, and they both looked back toward the wall. “Do you think he’ll let her come?” Sam asked.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Abby said quietly. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

On a hunch, Sam gathered a fistful of her hair. He squeezed at the root, pulling her hair just enough that she gasped and followed his hand. That took his dick from half-mast to fully hard. “I think you’ll take it as long as I tell you to watch.”

Abby gasped, an audible intake of breath so loud that someone nearby turned to look at them, but she had eyes only for Sam. Her lips twitched in a small smile. “Yes, Sir.”

His grip slackened, a sudden flood of arousal taking his breath away. Those words sounded so good on her lips. Conflicting feelings rose up inside him: he shouldn’t want her to submit, but he did; he wanted to feel that rush of power from knowing she would do what he told her.

“Suck my cock.”

The words tumbled out, and Abby waited, like she still wanted to see if he meant them. Still with his hand in her hair, he squeezed once more, making her wince but also moan. He didn’t like seeing her wince, but the moan went straight to his erection. With fumbling fingers, she undid his fly.

He hadn’t expected to do this, definitely hadn’t expected to push her mouth down onto his cock, but he was guiding her head before conscious thought caught up. Her mouth was sweet, hot, and so eager. He’d just come a little while ago, and his erection was too sensitive, almost painful, but he wanted this. He wanted to see what she would do.

Releasing his tight grip on her hair, he leaned back on the couch, trying to catch his breath as she worked him over. She looked so good bent over his lap, red hair spread across his trousers and the couch. The sense of control went right to his head, spinning up his arousal even faster than the sweet pressure of her mouth around his length.

Against the wall, the man had picked up the vibrator again and had it pressed between his crying partner’s legs. Her begging sounded so sweet. Abby would sound so good like that, begging to come, raw and vulnerable and completely at his mercy. He’d never really thought about it before, and now, he rolled it over and over in his mind, losing himself in the multiple sensations of Abby’s hot mouth and the other woman’s sweet pleading, until he came in a gut-punch of pleasure that blanked out everything but overwhelming release.

Abby lifted her head off him, brushing her hair back, her lips swollen and red and her eyes wide with lust. They both watched as the Dom across the room finally, finally said “Yes” and let his partner come.

Abby sagged, turning her attention back to Sam as he tucked himself back into his pants. “That was so hot,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’m soaking wet.”

The idea came to him all at once. “I want you to stay that way.”

Abby tipped her head to the side. “Okay?”

“I mean. Until I tell you otherwise, I don’t want you to come.”

Abby’s mouth fell open. “But…I’m so turned on.”

That little bit of neediness in her voice was so hot, even though he’d just come. She said she wanted to give up control, and he couldn’t think of anything hotter than getting her worked up and desperate.

Maybe it was mean. This felt dark, building up her arousal and then keeping her from satisfying it. He wasn’t a cruel guy. Normally, it wasn’t in him to deny her even the slightest thing she wanted. She didn’t ask for much, either, content in the day-to-day life they’d woven together.

But now, she’d revealed that she did want more. She wanted something kinky, and controlling, and naughtier than they’d ever done before. If she really wanted that, if she really wanted to submit to him, she was going to find out what that meant. Something controlling welled up inside him, the part of him that got hard thinking about her begging him for pleasure.

“I know you’re turned on. I like it.” He brushed her hair back and smiled. “Unless, of course, you’d rather call all this off. But if you want me to control you, then I’m going to control you.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled a wicked, challenging smile. “Yes, Sir.”