Dear Dr. Dean,

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 you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We’re here for your 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 and your Pleasure Master(s) 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

* * * * *

Dr. Dean,

Your Pleasure Night will begin Saturday the 20th, 7:00 PM at the bar in the Sweetpearl Hotel.

Your safe word is Strauss.

Sincerely,

The Pleasure Guardians

* * * * *

The hotel was one of the most expensive in the area, and the bar was dimly lit but decorated tastefully. Marcus Dean spent most of his time in his office but knew enough to be relieved by his surroundings. A social life had long ago taken a back seat to his education and his career. His dedication had made him successful, but he hadn’t been a date in more than year. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since law school, when Thomas had made it his business to spend more time with Marcus’ research assistant than he had Marcus.

Marcus ran his finger along the rim of his full wine glass. The stress of his job made him very leery of finding any kind of comfort in alcohol. The last thing he wanted was to end up like some of the guys he worked with—lonely alcoholics.

He’d found out about The Pleasure Club by accident, overhearing one of the women at work talking about it. Because he was gay and most definitely out, all of the women he worked with treated him like he was one of them. So when he’d walked into the break room for more coffee, the woman in question had continued to describe a hot night of unbelievable sex arranged by an adult match-making site. He’d been intrigued, to say the least.

It took self-discipline, but he waited until he was at home to look up The Pleasure Club. The Web site had been tasteful, secure, and tempted him beyond reason. He signed up before he could talk himself out of it. But why he chose to describe his biggest private regret remained a mystery even weeks later.

The stranger who’d run his hand down his back then slid onto a bar stool beside him all those years ago still lingered in his sexual fantasies. The man with his black hair and dark blue eyes, who had been so honest about his desire that he’d featured in Marcus’ thoughts for years afterwards.

Just thinking about it made Marcus hard, but he’d told the man no. He’d just been twenty-two and, while not exactly inexperienced, he hadn’t been prepared for a man like him. A man who said his name was Chris with a little smirk that confirmed it as a lie.

Now Marcus sat in a hotel bar, waiting for his Pleasure Night to begin, and while he was a little nervous, he felt surprisingly at peace with his decision. He pushed his wine glass out in front of him a little and sighed. The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about why he’d ordered a drink he wouldn’t actually drink.

A large, warm hand pressed against the small of his back as a body moved into his personal space. Marcus took a deep breath as the hand drifted confidently up his back and rested briefly on his shoulder.

The man slid onto the empty stool beside him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Marcus flushed at the compliment. He knew he was attractive—he’d certainly never had a problem getting a date in the past. He kept in the shape despite the demands of his job. His Pleasure Master, however, belonged in a different category altogether. His black hair, dark blue eyes, and classically handsome face could’ve put him in magazines. He looked close to Marcus’ age, maybe a little older.

He took a deep breath and looked down at his wine. “Thank you. I’m Marcus.”

“Marcus.” A small smile passed over the man’s generous mouth. “You can call me Ethan.”

Was that a lie? Marcus found himself grinning at the man. Any nervous feelings lingering in his gut fluttered away in that moment. “Hello, Ethan.”

Ethan turned on the stool and stared for a few seconds. “I could spend the next few hours trying to talk my way into your pants, Marcus. I could take the time to listen to you talk about your work, tell you tragic stories about how my family still can’t get their heads around my utter gayness, and maybe by the end of the night I’ll get to cop a feel before you go home alone.”

“Or?” Marcus asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Or we can skip all of that and go upstairs to my room.” Ethan shifted closer and smiled.

Marcus wondered, with no small amount of amusement, if he could pretend to be an innocent despite the years separating him from such inexperience. “I’ve never slept with a stranger before.”

Ethan grinned. “I promise not to be a disappointment, Marcus.”

They were at the point of the no return. Marcus had the safe word, of course, to be used to put on the brakes, but leaving the bar with the man was…the first step in reinventing a lingering regret from his past. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Ethan questioned gently. “Good.” He inclined his head toward the exit of the bar and slid off the stool.

Marcus exhaled sharply and nodded, then dropped a twenty on the bar. Neither said anything as they moved through the busy lobby. Once in the elevator, he leaned back against the wall and watched Ethan push the button for the tenth floor. Marcus focused on the floor of the elevator, his breath hitching when Ethan settled against the wall beside him.

Ethan laughed a little. “You’d think a hotel like this would have nicer elevators. I think we’ve encountered the slowest one in North America.”

Marcus grinned, nodding his agreement. “Perhaps, though the one I have at work seems to defy the laws of physics whenever I end up in it with my boss.”

Ethan’s fingers brushed against his, and then he pressed their palms together. His thumb trailed beguilingly across the top of Marcus’ hand. “You’re not nervous, are you?”