The house actually existed.
I had heard about a place where people who wanted more out of their bedroom battles and couldn’t get it from their partners could go.
I had thought it a rumour but after crashing my car one night two months ago on my way to see my sister in Chicago and stuck with no help available, I had walked to an Italian inspired mansion to ask for help when I had discovered that more went on than met the eye.
Wide eyed, I had followed a guard who had loomed over me and on my way to a small warm waiting room I had seen a woman wearing a red lacy negligee and garters walk past undeterred, with men eyeing her with open interest and I had wondered what the place was.
“It’s where people who like to experiment more in the bedroom come to meet.” The guard had said at my rude fascinated staring. It hadn’t taken long to meet the man who owned the place Claudius Pearce.
Brown eyed, with black silky hair kept long just to tease the collar of his shirt, with wide shoulders and a masculine chest hardly contained by the black button down shirt he had worn, a lean torso down to toned long legs that had stood with confidence as he had examined me.
I had dreamed about kissing his lush pink lips these past nights, plumed and soft, oh.
I had had to fill out a form and go through the medical examination; after asking many questions about the place and having piqued my curiosity along with silent encouragement from Mr Pierce, I had decided to experience what they had to offer.
“Wear something sexy and light” had been the instruction on the card delivered to me.
I had chosen silk grey lacy bra and underwear set, the panties had small bows on the sides of my hips and concealed just enough.
Removing my black trench coat at the door, I let Mr Pearce lead me into the main room. His large hand was warm on the small of my back and I could feel the males eyes in the room, on me ask we walked to the bar on the left.