Dirty Secrets

I shut myself in my room, but I can’t sleep. I dress, undress, dress again. None of my clothes feel right. I settle on black trousers and a peach-coloured jumper that makes me feel twenty-eight going on fifty. I’m nervous as hell and I can’t seem to shake it off. But when Theo knocks on the door, I do a good job of pretending to be calm, of hiding my emotions. I’m good at that.

‘Ready?’ he asks.

‘Absolutely,’ I say, as if I’m not a quivering wreck, as if I’m not thinking about running off the second we get outside. The heels of my black suede boots are loud on the floor as we make our way outside and into the waiting taxi. I press my knees tightly together and try not to think about what’s going to happen. I concentrate on the lights outside, on the view of London and not on the aching throb that has started up between my legs and deep in my pussy.

The taxi pulls to a standstill across the road from the club. Theo pays the fare before I can get to my purse, and I make a mental note to pay him back later. I haven’t asked him how much I owe him for the club membership either. I hope he takes Visa. Thirty days unpaid leave from work hasn’t left me with much in the bank.

He gets out of the taxi, and I follow him. The door opens when he rings the bell, and we’re greeted by a smartly dressed man in a three-piece suit. He’s got wavy blond hair and friendly eyes. He’s maybe 5’10, and has a good ten years on Theo.

‘You must be Jules,’ he says. ‘I’m John.’

‘It’s nice to meet you,’ I say, so polite, so awkward. So this is the man who owns the other half of the club. Judging by his accent, he’s not English. Australian, I think.

‘I’ll see you later,’ Theo says. He takes my hand, gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘John will take good care of you.’

Then he moves past me, and disappears along the corridor.

John closes the door, and smiles at me. I find myself smiling back. He’s one of those people who makes you feel instantly comfortable, as if you’ve been friends for years. ‘We’re nearly ready for you,’ he says. ‘Would you like a drink while you wait?’

I automatically reach for a no, but find a yes instead.

‘Excellent,’ John says. ‘Follow me.’

He leads me through to a quiet bar area, settles me into a comfortable armchair. He offers me champagne, but I opt for a chilled chardonnay. ‘Make yourself at home,’ he says. ‘I’ll be back in just a moment.’

There are other people in the bar, but they take no notice of me. There’s a woman in a prim business suit, with her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. After a couple of minutes, two men dressed in identical black outfits walk in. They handcuff her wrists behind her back and drag her away. For a moment, I think to intervene, then I notice that she’s smiling.

I know they’re going to take her through one of the closed doors, into one of the private rooms. I imagine them stripping her, interrogating her with fingers and cocks. I imagine her writhing with pleasure, and I envy her.

I take a sip of wine, hope it will bury the bitter taste in my throat. My request seems so tame in comparison. I want to be outrageous. I want to ask for wicked, delicious things, the things I am too scared to let myself imagine, let alone want. The things that only a selfish, perverted slut would ask for. Maybe I would like to be pleasured by two men, I don’t know.

I’m still thinking about that when John walks back in. ‘We’re ready for you now,’ he says softly. He’s so very polite, we could be in an upmarket restaurant, not a sex club. There’s no trace of what’s about to come in his tone, no suggestion that this is anything perverted, anything untoward.

He takes me to one of the small private rooms. The brass plaque on the door reads Curious Appetites, and I feel like I am falling down the rabbit hole. ‘Enjoy,’ he says.

Then he walks away. I stand in the doorway and stare at the door for long, terrifying minutes before I push it open.

And take my first step into another world.

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