26 Hours in Paris (16 page)

T
he car stopped before a brownstone structure. No neon lights. No flashing billboard. The only indication that they were at the correct address was the scrolled sign beside the door. It read CLUB PRIVÉ.

Assuming the burly man in the dark coat was Jacques, she practiced silently mouthing his name in the privacy of the car.

Stella came around to open the door. Marko stepped out and offered Kat his hand. She accepted it and, careful not to flash Jacques, she exited the vehicle.

“
Je vais attendre de votre appel, monsieur,
” Stella said, lowering her gaze in obvious respect with her offer to await his call and instructions.

“
Merci, Stella.”
Marko smiled down at the petite young woman.

And in a very unexpected move, the pretty driver did the
bise
thing and peppered kisses on either side of Kat's face. “
S'amuser, Mademoiselle Kathryn.”

Stunned by the intimate gesture and suggestion to enjoy, Kat barely remembered to smile back at the other woman. “Thank you, Stella.”

“Welcome, Marko.” Jacques opened the door and motioned for them to proceed.

“Jacques,” Marko replied with a nod and confirmed Kat's assumption. He placed a hand at the small of her back, and led her inside the club.

“Has Stella been driving for you long?” Kat asked, confusion over what had just happened spurring the curiosity.

“No,” he replied flatly. “She's been with me for two weeks.”

He pushed past her and took her hand. “She is a friend who needed help. I gave her a job and an escape. Now, enough with the questions or there will be consequences to pay. We'll check our coats to the right.”

Her gaze darted to his face and then down to her almost bare chest. She didn't voice the question.

“Clarification,” he said, sliding a finger down her nose and circling her open mouth. He pushed between her lips, then stroked gently over her tongue. “We'll check my coat and my good girl's wrap.”

Handing over the red cashmere, she released an audible breath. Her poor jacket must have gotten confused as well. Between the hard pounding of her heart and the sudden whooshing of air, it had dropped open and exposed her left breast. She shrieked and quickly yanked it into place, gripping it so tight that her fingers hurt.

Marko laughed, removing his coat and placing her hat and gloves in one of the inside pockets. He then threaded the wrap through the sleeve and passed the articles jointly to the attendant. Still chuckling, he leaned down to kiss behind her ear. Slipping a warm palm inside the jacket, he cupped her breast and feathered his thumb over the peak. “Thank you. That's a very pretty nipple, sweetheart. Tell me your safe word, Kathryn.”

“Give me a sec,” she said. Her hands worked on securing one more of the buttons.

“No,” he insisted and stilled her hand. “We are inside the club, and in order to continue, I need to know that you remember it.”

At that moment, a very good-looking man, dressed in faded jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt, and a tall naked woman crossed their path. A fine, thin chain hung from gold nipple hooks and was linked to a second thin chain the man held between his fingers. He led her down a slate-colored hallway with sure steps. She followed quietly, her gaze lowered to his heels. He didn't look back to check where she was, but he held out a hand and she took it. He turned and kissed her until soft moans filled the hall.

Clearly, the tall woman was a submissive, but she had a serene and happy look on her face. Her perfect body was flushed with heat and her gait was more than willing. Having her body adorned with gold chains, kissed until her legs buckled, led by a handsome man to a pleasure chamber, had its appeal.

Kat couldn't stop looking at them.

“Porsche,” she said, against Marko's ear. “But I don't want to leave.”

“I know that, sweetheart.” He nipped up the curve of her ear, and played with her nipple between his thumb and finger. “When will you use your safe word?”

“When I'm uncomfortable and have reached my limit. If it gets to be too much, and I want to stop or go home.”

“Very good,” Marko said, removing his hand from her breast and rearranging the jacket. “We'll start at the source of that lively rhythm. Feeling the beat helps welcome most newcomers to the scene. It's a public space.”

“It's just a different kind of dance club. A little more explicit than others, but a club with lots of people,” she whispered to herself, her shoulders lifting in a tiny shrug. “Same music as the Marquee and Space.”

“Whatever gets you through the night, sweetheart.” He took her hand and started down an electric-blue hallway. “We'll sit at the bar.”

Controlled by motion sensors, the automatic doors swept open. The room glowed and music roared. There were the neon lights to indicate the club scene and black lights to accentuate the white furnishings. A long bar curved around the dance floor for optimum access. There were more candy dishes full of condoms—condoms of all sizes and flavors, she noted on closer inspection—than drink glasses on the bar and end tables. Tall, backless bar stools, spaced in no apparent pattern, allowed for a lot of standing room.

Most impressive was the ballet-style chrome barre that rimmed beneath the long surface. Patrons gripped it for support while they engaged in a variety of sexual acts.

“I may be overdressed,” Kat said, glancing around the room. Women in corsets were most common. Some wore only lingerie. Others were completely nude.

“You're perfect,” Marko said, straddling a stool and pulling her up against him. He fit her between his thighs, with her back to his chest, and dropped a protective hand on her abdomen.

Kat couldn't look long enough to take in all the action. People in all states of dress, or undress, jammed the dance floor and lounge areas. Nearest to them was a couple squeezed onto an armchair. The woman, in only a demi bra and heels, bent over the arm and arched backward as her partner pounded into her. A second woman kneeled before them, alternating between lapping on the first woman's breasts and sucking a man's cock.

Then there was the young man with a collar secured around his muscular neck. A leather pouch squeezed his scrotum and cock into a confined package. He was doubled over the back of a couch, a man's cock in his mouth, a woman fucking his ass with a dildo, while a different man ate at her pussy.

“She's punishing him with the straitjacket,” Marko said. “The pressure doesn't allow for an erection, yet he must perform.”

A few feet further down, a groom held his bride on the bar, her gown around her waist, and her legs spread wide to accommodate the blond head of a bridesmaid. With every couple of bobs of the neatly coiffed head, the bridesmaid would pull back, finger the bride, then offer the groom a taste. A groomsman fell in line behind the bent-over bridesmaid. He lifted her skirt, and exposed a naked ass. Without warning, he drove into her and thrust her face up against the bride's pussy.

A man wearing a mask that concealed his identity brought himself to release on the bride's face, and a second masked man came on her heaving chest. The groom snapped the strap holding the plunging A-line bodice in place and exposed the bride's breasts, kneading the flesh with force. He rubbed the other men's release on the pebbled nipples, then motioned for two more men to shoot their loads on her face. Cum, mixed with makeup, smeared over her face and dripped down her chin.

Shuddering, Kat turned and glanced at the mirror over Marko's shoulder. The romantic euphoria slipped away. There was sex everywhere. Women with men. Women with women. Men with men. Couples, threesomes, foursomes, and more.

“She wants it. The bride is what is known as a cum slut. There is no judgment and there are fewer limits in the club,” Marko said, smoothing his palm down the side of her face. He looked into her eyes and trailed his thumb over her lips.

Kat wanted to ask how often he partied here, and she wanted to know if he enjoyed participating in the orgies, but he'd said no questions. Did that mean no objections or argumentative questions? Or did it mean no questions of any sort?

“What do you want to ask?” Marko said, resting his thumb on her chin.

Nervously, she sucked on her lower lip and took a deep breath. “Do you come here often?”

“Rarely,” he replied, smiling when she exhaled. “Only if there's a prearranged rendezvous. I take it it's not what you were expecting?”

She shook her head.

“I know,
bella
.” He curled his hand at her nape and pulled her to him for a soft kiss. “It's not the sex that bothers you, but the nature of it.”

She nodded, feeling her throat constrict with apprehension. She'd wanted the night to be perfect.

“The partners are dispensable,” Marko continued. “There is no emotional connection between the partners—well, other than the bridal party over there. But you consider masked strangers participating in such a manner as using her. The truth is, she's using them. Regardless, the hollow pit in the bottom of your stomach is hurting you.”

Amazed, she looked up at him. Relief flowed through her. He'd described exactly what she felt. He knew.

“Drink this.” He placed a cool glass to her lips.

Kat sipped at the amber liquid, and was surprised to find it wasn't alcoholic. “Fresh apple juice?”

“To soothe your throat and boost your energy level.” He caressed her cheek and tasted the juice on her lips. “Don't forget the vitamin C benefits. We took a risk walking the bridge in the cold. I don't want you getting sick.”

Marko spoke as if they were sitting at the kitchen table. The caress of his hand up and down her spine and the gentle tone of his voice relaxed her. She took the glass in her hands and ran her fingers up the frosty side. Sipping on the juice, she relaxed and tuned out the hammering beat of the music. She was with Marko, and no matter where they were, she was good.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting more out of sex, sweetheart. It's what you want. However, some people crave only the carnal pleasure. That is what they want.” He brushed his lips on her forehead, and calming warmth spread back into her body “Neither is wrong. You take what is right for you.”

She nodded, trying hard not to judge. A dispensable fuck buddy wasn't right for her. She did want more. She wanted it all in a nice little package, with a pretty bow on top. Maybe that was why she'd never been satisfied with any man other than Marko. “I'm so fucking doomed.”

“What was that?” Marko leaned forward, and placed his ear near her lips.

“This is what's right for me,” she said, sucking gently on his earlobe and kissing down his neck. When she reached the collar of his shirt, she licked a slow and lazy pattern inside it, tasting the essence of the man that defined what she considered as right.

“Enough. Or we'll be the next exhibit on the bar.” He pushed on her hips and pulled his shoulders back. Taking her hand, he placed it on his hard erection, and then stood. “Feel what you do to me,
bella
. I'm the one in charge. I thought I was supposed to be seducing you, not the other way around.”

She laughed, which gained her an approving smile.

“Leave the juice. We'll head to the next room.”

“Okay,” she replied.

“Again with my new favorite word,” Marko said, hugging her close.

She dropped her forehead against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and inhaled his scent. Everything was good again.

“Come on,
bella
. Let's go.” He took her hand and folded it tight against his lower back, shouldering past anyone who didn't see him coming and move in time.

When a door slid open and they stepped out, she sighed her relief at the fading thump of the music. The furious techno beat, the building heat from all those bodies, and the intimate exposure to the orgy had been a lot. Too much.

“I'm such a chicken,” she admitted. “If it hadn't been for you, I would've used the safe word in that room.”

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. “That's what I'm here for, Kathryn. It's my responsibility to keep you safe and allow you to feel secure enough to experience what you truly need.”

Perhaps his body was larger and his physical strength greater, but it was his acceptance of responsibility that she treasured. She couldn't resist him, and she'd do anything to please him.

“There are five communal rooms in the club. We already saw the dance club, and established that I don't visit it often, so now, let's see one I do frequent,” he said.

“Which one is that?” Her pulse raced and her skin heated. She'd get to see what Marko wanted. One more layer to the man. Then the eagerness to learn crashed. What if, just like in the dance club, she didn't like what she saw?

“Patience, Kathryn. You'll be okay.”

The room looked like any other indoor café. The walls were burnt amber, with art subjects ranging from pictures of simple flowers to erotic acts at eye level. Big suede couches and small mosaic bistro sets served as seating areas. The strong smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. Members milled around, some keeping to themselves, others interacting like old friends.

She blinked in confusion and surveyed the guests. Not what she'd expected of a sex club, either. Two professional-looking men, both in business suits and ties, pants on, sat at a table speaking intently. Two men, clearly lovers, cozied up on the couch and reviewed a photo album. There was a woman, who was naked, sitting on a bare-chested man's lap, laughing at something a fully clothed man across the table was saying. That same fully clothed man was petting a man on a leash, kneeling beside his chair. A gorgeous woman sat alone, enjoying a glass of wine. It was all so intimate and different.