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 receive 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 at any time you 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.

Yours truly,

The Pleasure Club Management

* * * * *

Ms. Moore,

Your Pleasure Night will be held at Pamper You, Friday, September 4th. Please arrive at precisely 9:00 p.m.

Your safe word is Therapy.

Sincerely,

The Pleasure Guardians

* * * * *

Lynae Moore turned around to face the mirror, adjusted the cap on her head and moved the tassel to the left side of her face.

“It was the single most erotic experience in my life,” her sister, Celeste, told her.

She couldn’t wait until the dean of colleges announced that they were all college graduates and she could toss the square blue contraption up into the air with the rest of her classmates.

Celeste was recounting the tale of her “night of pleasure” with The Principal four months ago, before she’d completed her residency in anesthesiology and moved to Atlanta. Lynae couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wrinkled her nose. “But it was with a complete stranger,” she said. “How could you do that?”

“Girl, when I walked into that office, the only thing I could think about was how fine that man was and what he was getting ready to do to me.”

She shook her head. “He could have been a rapist or a serial killer, or both.” Turning and pointing a finger at her, she said, “You’re nuts.”

“Oh, he had nuts all right. Big, gorgeous, sinful, chocolate nuts, and they were delicious,” she said with a wicked grin on her face.

Lynae grinned. “O-M-G, you are so nasty. I’m your little sister, remember?”

Celeste laughed and stood, then came forward and straightened Lynae’s gown, looking at her from head to toe. “I am so proud of you.”

“Me? For what?”

“You’re graduating from college.”

Lynae shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you inspired me.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Going to college, then medical school and completing your residency. I’m the proud one. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t motivated me.”

“You’re still thinking about going to massage therapy school in September, right?”

Lynae glanced at the huge white envelope sitting on her nightstand. She’d already begun filling out the paperwork. She had to complete the application packet and send it in by the end of next week if she even wanted to be considered a candidate for the classes starting in mid-September. “Yes, I’m still thinking about it.”

“Then look at it like this.” Celeste grabbed her around the waist, turned them both around to face the mirror and hugged her from behind.

They were different as night and day, literally—her creamy white skin, Lynae’s caramel-colored features—stepsisters who’d become the best of friends.

“I spend my days sticking needles in people’s arms and backs. You, on the other hand, when, and I do mean when you finish massage therapy school, people are going to pay to have your hands all over them, and they’ll walk away with smiles on their faces.”

That conversation was five weeks ago. Now, Lynae was sitting outside Pamper You, the most expensive, sought after spa in Atlanta, about to experience her own single most erotic experience of her life. Why had she let Celeste talk her into this? But she knew why. Because deep down, she hadn’t been thoroughly fucked since she’d gone back to college.

When Celeste graduated, Lynae had seen how proud her father and stepmother were, so she’d decided to take the plunge too. She’d never even considered college when she was in high school. All she’d ever wanted to be was a cosmetologist. She’d loved doing hair ever since she could remember.

In middle and high school she’d had her own little shop in her house, doing her friends’ hair almost every weekend. Then, right after high school, she’d gone to cosmetology school and, after graduating, worked for one of the most exclusive salons in Dallas and never looked back or regretted one minute of it. She’d met the man of her dreams, a handsome law school student who treated her like a queen. They’d dated. He’d even proposed. But two months before the wedding, right after he’d graduated from law school, he’d told her that he couldn’t possibly marry someone who was only a cosmetologist, who’d never even gone to college.

It didn’t matter that she loved him or that he loved her. He’d only been thinking about his reputation in the ritzy ditzy law firm that had offered him a job, and what type of woman he wanted seen on his arm at their office parties.

And that person wasn’t her.

He’d even asked her why she couldn’t have been like her sister. That was what dug into her soul the most. When Celeste’s mother had married Lynae’s father ten years ago, she’d wanted to hate Celeste and her mother for taking her dead mother’s place, but they’d both been so loving and patient with her in the beginning that she couldn’t help but love them. She’d gained a new mother and an older sister, and her father had been the happiest she’d ever seen him. She and Celeste became the best of friends despite their age difference, and not once had she been jealous of her or resented her presence.

But after what her ex had said, she’d begun to doubt herself, doubt the choices she’d made. And after Celeste graduated and announced she was going to medical school as well, Lynae had made up her mind that she could do it too. She’d worked another couple of years and saved enough money so she wouldn’t be destitute. Then she’d gone to college to get a degree in business administration and had sworn off men, at least for the time being, anyway. She hadn’t wanted or needed any distractions while she was in school.

However, her love for the field of cosmetology never wavered, so she decided she’d use her degree to open her own day spa and salon and not only have hair stylists, but manicurist, makeup artists, massage therapists, and skin experts. When she opened her salon, it was going to be the one-stop shop for women of all colors, all races, to come and be pampered.

During school, she decided that she wanted to add at least one more field to her repertoire and began thinking about going to massage therapy school as well. Just today she’d received confirmation that she had been accepted and she needed to report for orientation next Tuesday.

But tonight…tonight, she sat outside Pamper You, a salon almost like what she wanted to open, waiting to have sex with a complete stranger, a masseur. She was sure her sister appreciated the irony, since she was the one who’d set the whole thing up. When she’d gotten that first letter in the mail, she’d called Celeste and asked her what the hell she’d done. Celeste laughed and told her to think of it as a late graduation/early massage therapy school acceptance/congratulatory present.

She picked up the embossed linen note she’d received in the mail last week and read it again.

Lynae looked down at the clock on her dashboard. Eight fifty-eight.

It was now or never.

She climbed out of the car, locked the door, and took a few tentative steps toward the front door.

What the hell am I doing?

She’d chastised her sister for doing exactly what she was about to do, but she couldn’t stop the erotic tingle that spread up her spine with each step she took. Lynae reached the door and paused. Was she supposed to knock? Ring the doorbell? She turned around and walked back to the sidewalk, but stopped.

Don’t be a chicken shit, she heard her sister say in her head.

She smiled and turned around. She could do this. She would do this.

Back at the door, she pulled the handle and found it was already open. She stepped inside. Soft music wafted over her as she took in her surroundings. Plush white chairs sat in several groupings around the huge lobby. She’d bet money that the rug she stood on was authentic Persian. Paintings of serene landscapes hung on the walls, and several plants were interspersed all throughout the area, as well as lit, white, taper-thin candles. A mahogany check-in desk with a white marble top sat against the back wall.

Moving forward, she saw a room off to the right with several manicurist chairs on one side and pedicure stations on the other. To the left on both sides of the room were stylist stations. Lynae was about to venture further down a hallway when the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life walked out of the office behind the check-in desk.

She only saw him above the waist, but what she did see made her breath stall in her chest. Her breasts began to tingle, along with the rest of her.

He smiled. “Good evening, Ms. Moore. Welcome to Pamper You.”

He had perfect, straight white teeth, an enigmatic smile, and expertly cut short, wavy blond hair. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because of the dim candlelight. He wore a white jacket like the one she used to wear at her old salon, except he wore no shirt underneath.

Muscles.

Muscles on top of muscles rippled down his chest, disappearing behind the desk. Damn, she wanted to see the rest.

“My name is Jared, and I’ll be your masseur for the evening.”

Lynae sent a silent “thank you” to her sister and promised herself she would send her a dozen roses first thing Monday morning.

Jared stepped from around the corner, and she was rewarded with the sight of the rest of him.

My, my, my.

“Please follow me.” He turned to walk down the hallway beside the desk, and she followed, enjoying the view. A pair of white pants encased his legs, matching his jacket. She couldn’t wait to see what he looked like without any clothes.

Maybe this was a good idea after all.