the values of the lifestyle.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I allowed, feigning nonchalance. In reality, I struggled to absorb the concept. I didn’t know how I felt about my two worlds colliding. I kept my careers carefully separate, writing my romance novels under a pen name. The prospect of working with the FBI for my Latin Kings research but also mingling with them at a BDSM club didn’t entirely sit well with me.
“I’m not sure about going to Decadence,” I admitted. I’d wanted to visit the hottest kink club in New York, but this scenario changed things.
“Why not?” Carina asked.
“Don’t you think it’ll be weird?” I lowered my voice as we stepped into Starbucks and got in the long line that stretched nearly all the way to the door. “The agents won’t take me seriously if they know I write romance.”
“Nonsense,” she declared. “They’ll respect that you’re doing your best to portray the lifestyle realistically. And none of them think less of each other for being kinky. They’re a very tight-knit group, almost like family. They take BDSM every bit as seriously as they take their jobs with the FBI. It’s part of who they are.”
I mulled that over, digesting it in silence until it was our turn to put in our order. A few minutes later, we had our lattes in hand and found a table in a back corner where we could speak more privately.
“If I do come to Decadence,” I speculated slowly, “I don’t have to do anything, right? They won’t pressure me into participating? I’m not interested in sleeping with anyone.” I didn’t plan on breaking my three years of celibacy anytime soon, even if I did occasionally experiment with impact play. Floggers and crops were strictly for research purposes, not sexual enjoyment. And so long as any skin-to-skin contact happened on my terms, I could handle it.
“Of course not,” Carina reassured me. “Everyone will respect your boundaries. You can just tour the club and get a feel for the layout and what happens there.” Her smile turned sly. “I know just the guy to show you around.”
“Nope,” I said definitively. “Don’t you dare try to fix me up with someone, Carina.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she waved off my comment. “Besides, Dex isn’t interested in being fixed up, either. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess that’s all right, then.” Her words put me at ease. If her friend Dex was on the same page I was, I could trust him to show me around without trying to make a move on me.
“So you’ll come?” she pressed, practically glowing with excitement.
“Yeah, I will.” I made my decision. I’d carefully considered all the risks and determined that an evening at Decadence would be beneficial. I really could use more real-world experience to enrich my writing.
“Excellent,” Carina beamed. “Do you have something to wear?”
“Honestly, I’d planned to explore some of the New York clubs, so I brought a few outfits. I just hadn’t known I’d be attending a kinky FBI party. But based on what you’ve told me, I feel okay with it.”
She nodded encouragingly. “Kennedy and I will be there, so you can come to us if you feel at all uncomfortable.”
I thought of the intimidating FBI director. I wasn’t at all reassured by the promise of his presence. Comforting wasn’t a word I would use to describe Kennedy Carver.
2
Dex
A nother night , another party at Decadence. I practically lived here these days. If I wasn’t in the office, I was fucking some stranger. Sometimes multiple strangers. Sex helped me escape the crushing weight of my grief, if only for a few fleeting hours at the club.
Other than fucking, I barely even bothered trying to claw my way out of depression. What was the point?
At least doing something good at work and giving my sexual partners pleasure brought me some sense of accomplishment. After two awful, lonely years, I was finally learning to
“I guess that makes sense,” I allowed, feigning nonchalance. In reality, I struggled to absorb the concept. I didn’t know how I felt about my two worlds colliding. I kept my careers carefully separate, writing my romance novels under a pen name. The prospect of working with the FBI for my Latin Kings research but also mingling with them at a BDSM club didn’t entirely sit well with me.
“I’m not sure about going to Decadence,” I admitted. I’d wanted to visit the hottest kink club in New York, but this scenario changed things.
“Why not?” Carina asked.
“Don’t you think it’ll be weird?” I lowered my voice as we stepped into Starbucks and got in the long line that stretched nearly all the way to the door. “The agents won’t take me seriously if they know I write romance.”
“Nonsense,” she declared. “They’ll respect that you’re doing your best to portray the lifestyle realistically. And none of them think less of each other for being kinky. They’re a very tight-knit group, almost like family. They take BDSM every bit as seriously as they take their jobs with the FBI. It’s part of who they are.”
I mulled that over, digesting it in silence until it was our turn to put in our order. A few minutes later, we had our lattes in hand and found a table in a back corner where we could speak more privately.
“If I do come to Decadence,” I speculated slowly, “I don’t have to do anything, right? They won’t pressure me into participating? I’m not interested in sleeping with anyone.” I didn’t plan on breaking my three years of celibacy anytime soon, even if I did occasionally experiment with impact play. Floggers and crops were strictly for research purposes, not sexual enjoyment. And so long as any skin-to-skin contact happened on my terms, I could handle it.
“Of course not,” Carina reassured me. “Everyone will respect your boundaries. You can just tour the club and get a feel for the layout and what happens there.” Her smile turned sly. “I know just the guy to show you around.”
“Nope,” I said definitively. “Don’t you dare try to fix me up with someone, Carina.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she waved off my comment. “Besides, Dex isn’t interested in being fixed up, either. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess that’s all right, then.” Her words put me at ease. If her friend Dex was on the same page I was, I could trust him to show me around without trying to make a move on me.
“So you’ll come?” she pressed, practically glowing with excitement.
“Yeah, I will.” I made my decision. I’d carefully considered all the risks and determined that an evening at Decadence would be beneficial. I really could use more real-world experience to enrich my writing.
“Excellent,” Carina beamed. “Do you have something to wear?”
“Honestly, I’d planned to explore some of the New York clubs, so I brought a few outfits. I just hadn’t known I’d be attending a kinky FBI party. But based on what you’ve told me, I feel okay with it.”
She nodded encouragingly. “Kennedy and I will be there, so you can come to us if you feel at all uncomfortable.”
I thought of the intimidating FBI director. I wasn’t at all reassured by the promise of his presence. Comforting wasn’t a word I would use to describe Kennedy Carver.
2
Dex
A nother night , another party at Decadence. I practically lived here these days. If I wasn’t in the office, I was fucking some stranger. Sometimes multiple strangers. Sex helped me escape the crushing weight of my grief, if only for a few fleeting hours at the club.
Other than fucking, I barely even bothered trying to claw my way out of depression. What was the point?
At least doing something good at work and giving my sexual partners pleasure brought me some sense of accomplishment. After two awful, lonely years, I was finally learning to
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