It is easy to seek the worst when you are a reporter and looking for a story that will be your big break. But what happens when the worst turns out to draw you into a world that is different and not what you expected. A world that offers you something that might be called love by some people and pain by others. Will you write the worst or will you tell the truth?
Garrett sat at the small table at the coffee shop, reading the news on his tablet. He was looking for anything that might give him an idea for an unusual story to sell to his boss. The tablet was laying flat on the laminate table as he held the large ice coffee in both hands, catching moisture in multiple napkins.
“Hey, Gary, no muffin?”
Garrett hid his irritation at Rose’s unbelievable happiness and alertness so early in the day. Rose was Garrett’s aide and superb at her job, if Garrett could keep her from being so cheerful that she often got sidetracked talking to others. There was also the fact that men were drawn to her like bees to pollen.
Rose was like day to Garrett’s night. She was a natural blonde with a porcelain complexion she needed to keep out of the sun and pale blue eyes fringed by dense, thick blonde lashes. They were the large ones that Goldie Hawn had been known for on TV and in movies. She hunted for the bras to hold her generous large D size breasts. Short and blonde and gorgeous, but it was her bad luck that she was not stupid.
Rose was grateful to have ended up as Garrett’s aide, he should know, she told him often enough. Anyone else wouldn’t have used her abilities. She would have been a lovely doll sitting behind a receptionist’s desk.
As for Garrett, his complexion was as pale as Rose’s without the pink color to nose and cheeks. There were no freckles to break up the clear color of his skin, so the jet-black hair made him look like a vampire. That is, before he needed to shave. He had blue eyes, too, but so dark that they were often mistaken for black, hidden by long black lashes.
Garrett’s long legs fit well in the slacks from the mall stores, but he tried to get better clothes for the office. He liked soft underclothes, thinking no one would know. He was flying alone since breaking up a year ago with his last lover. He missed his guy but refused to go to the pick-up bars. Men and sex weren’t on his list, as his career was important right now.
Garrett was trying to read the news headlines as Rose rattled on about the beautiful morning and flirted with men passing by outside.
“Oh look, they won their lawsuit.” Rose put her finger on an article that immediately brought the whole story up on the tablet. It was about a club that had won a suit against the city for their license restrictions.
Garrett pushed Rose’s hand away. “Rose, I’m looking for some news to follow. Something different.”
“Well, this would be good. Look, let’s go to their website. This is exciting.”
Garrett sighed as Rose took the tablet. She messed around until she had what she wanted then put the tablet back down.
“What the hell Rose, a sex club? There have been dozens of stories on them.”
Garrett shook his head. Rose knew they were always up against the wall to find a new angle to get a story of interest for the magazine.
Rose tapped the tablet. “Look, I have wanted to do this. I would be glad to go there and let them train me. I could report back to you. There must be a story buried somewhere in that place. Just look at those pictures. Look what they are saying. I’m willing.”
Garrett looked at the website. First of all, he was surprised. Not that it was a BDSM club. There had been a couple around for a while. The city was trying to clean up the sex clubs, most certainly these types. What surprised him was the kind of advertisement. There were no women in revealing costumes smiling as they hung in chains. There were no over-muscled men in leather chaps with their asses hanging out and long whips in their hands.
Instead, there was a man, in a suit, with a woman with her bare back to the camera. It was a strange tableau that drew Garrett’s eye. The man’s head was in shadow, only from his nose down—his sensual lips and strong jaw were all that was revealed. Garrett wanted to see his eyes, but there was not even a reflection of light in that area. He had his jacket pushed open with one hand on his belt area, the other hand and arm was across the top of an ornate shelf that might have been the mantle of a fireplace. It was hard to tell with the dark shadows in the photo. The woman had one arm down at her side and one hand flat on his crisp white shirt.
The woman was shorter than he was and even though she was seen from the back, it was obvious she had her head tilted down. There were no marks on her flawless back, and her hair was reflecting the light from the camera, every strand in place. On the page the message was simple.
Every Sub longs for a Dom. It takes the right Dom to reach and train a Sub when one does not even admit it. Interested?
There were other pages dedicated to beautiful people, fully dressed, eating at a restaurant straight out of Eighteenth-Century, France, all candles and waiters with white gloves. There was a bar with a dance floor that included a live band. At the top it announced, clothing optional. Everyone looked happy.
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