The Effing List - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,20

misogynistically pocket-unfriendly as women’s suit and dress manufacturers were.

At the front, she stared up at the three-story mansion. It was much more intimidating after dark. The black wrought-iron lanterns on each side of the door didn’t help.

She could barely hear any noise from inside other than a thin thread of music. The soundproofing must be amazing. Well, it would have to be, right?

Here goes. Reluctantly, she reached for the door handle.

“Hi.”

At the sound of a woman’s voice, Valerie startled.

Two people strolled up the sidewalk.

One was a silver-haired man with icy blue eyes and a lean weathered face.

His companion was a full-bodied redhead. She smiled. “Could you be Valerie?”

“Well…” Valerie hesitated, having never seen the woman before in her life.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The woman laughed. “The other day, one of our friends said he hoped a blonde named Valerie would join the club.”

Valerie blinked. The only Dom she’d given her name to had been the professor. Finn. The thought he’d mentioned her set up a warm glow in her stomach.

“I’m Linda, and this is Master Sam.” The woman seemed only a few years younger than Valerie, and how reassuring was that?

“You’re right; I’m Valerie.” She gave them a wry smile. “I was trying to find enough courage to open the door.”

“In that case, missy, allow me.” Master Sam’s rough-timbred voice reminded her of the actor whose gravelly voice was so well-known. Finn sounded much the same although his voice might be a bit rawer, a bit deeper.

Sam stepped around her and held the door open.

The same guard as on the BDSM Sampler night sat behind the desk, obviously bored. “Here. Sign in.” He pushed forward a paper.

“I’m not a member.” Valerie held out the FREE NIGHT ticket.

He took it, ripped it in half. “Okay. You’re good.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “What the hell is a free night?”

“I got the coupon during the open house.” She gestured to the guard. “From him.”

The guard nodded. “Yeah. Like the manager said to do.”

“I haven’t heard anything about free nights.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to Valerie. “Did you get any instruction about the rules? What you can and can’t do? Fill out any forms? Have bloodwork?”

“No.”

“Dammit.” Master Sam looked furious. “Sign in and put ‘free pass’ beside your name. Show the guard your ID.” His glare hit the guard like a baseball bat.

Paling, the guard sat up straight.

“Check that her ID and name matches,” Sam snapped. “The rules are in the top drawer. Give her one. Make sure anyone else with a free pass gets the same.”

After she signed and showed her ID to the now-anxious guard, he handed her the list of rules.

“Since you don’t have a purse, Valerie, you can leave your shoes in the cubbies here.” Linda put her flats into an empty slot in the shelves against the wall. “If you’re submissive, of course.”

She might as well own up to it. But… “I can’t wear my shoes?”

“Master Z prefers for submissives to be barefoot unless wearing seriously stunning footwear.” Linda eyed Valerie’s attractive, but nowhere-near-stunning sandals.

There were certainly a lot of rules to getting in this place. Master Sam’s chuckle indicated her frown had made it onto her face.

With a sigh, she shoved her sandals into a cubby, then stood there in her bare feet. To her relief, the hardwood floor was polished to a satiny smoothness. At least she wouldn’t get splinters.

“Very good, missy. Now, you’re ready to go in.”

Gazing up at Master Sam, she knew she’d lost an inch in height and more in…what would she call it? Power? Authority?

Shaking her head, she followed Linda and Master Sam through the door into the club.

Harsh music assaulted her ears. To her right, a few people were on the dance floor. Five younger men and women wearing cat and dog ears, fuzzy mitten-paws, and tails gamboled off to one side.

People sat in various conversational groups. About half of the roped-off scene areas around the perimeter were being used.

There was a big oval bar in the center of the room and a dance floor to the right. In fact, the layout resembled a nightclub’s…except she’d never seen a bar with chains dangling from the rafters above it.

And no one dressed like this in any club she’d been in.

Look at all the fetishwear. Lots of skintight latex, PVC, and leather. One woman wore hot pink leggings and a tunic with strategically placed holes. Two women were bare from the waist up. She could see mini-skirts, fishnet stockings, corsets,

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