Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
What in the ever-loving fuck? Why the hell would she require this kind of information from me?
“Just fill it out,” Becs mutters beside me, insisting that I have blind faith in her, and as my curiosity gets the best of me, I go ahead and start scanning through the document, marking anything that applies to me, and after declaring myself as clean as possible, I sign my life away for the second time in as many minutes.
“Thank you,” Casey says, taking both of our forms and quickly scanning through them before filing them away, clearly satisfied with what we’ve marked. She then plucks one more piece of paper from her desk, only this time as she hands it to us, there’s a beaming smile across her face. “Now, assuming you both understand how things work here, this is a guideline. Take a look through the options, and I’ll get you the appropriate wristband.”
Wristband? What the hell? Why would I need a wristband in a club?
My brows furrow as I scan over the paper, and what I find makes my jaw drop to the black marble floor.
This isn’t a fucking nightclub. It’s an exclusive underground sex club!
My gaze snaps to Becs, finding her already watching me with a smug grin. “Surprise,” she says, looking way too fucking thrilled about this.
“Where the hell have you brought me?”
Becs just laughs. “Just trust me,” she says. “A place like this isn’t going to allow random assholes to run around getting their rocks off. It’s safe.”
“It really is,” Casey agrees, clearly able to see the nervousness flashing in my eyes. “My first time here, I was unsure and hesitant, but there really isn’t anything to worry about. You can participate as little or as much as you like, or not at all. If sitting at the bar and having a drink is more your style, then so be it.”
Oh geez.
“I umm . . . I’m sorry. I must sound like such a prude, but I really have no experience with any of this. Like at all. I’m still a . . . you know. A virgin,” I squeak out.
“That’s totally fine,” she says, pointing toward the paper in my hand. “We have every level of experience covered.”
My gaze drops again, scanning over the list and noticing that it’s kind of like a menu at a restaurant, but instead of food items, it’s a color-coded list of sexual preferences.
I gape at it. Reading over every single one and committing it to memory.
White. Virgin.
Yellow. Intrigued. Willing to be approached.
Orange. Willing to be touched.
Pink. Oral Sex.
Red. Vaginal Intercourse. Private.
Purple. Vaginal Intercourse. Public.
Violet. Bisexual/Gay. Open for same-sex experiences.
Light Blue. Anal sex.
Dark Blue. Multiple partners. Private.
Green. Multiple partners. Public.
Brown. BDSM. Submissive.
Black. BDSM. Dominant.
“Holy fucking shit,” I say under my breath.
“I think I’m going for green,” Becs tells me. “Maybe violet.”
My eyes widen with surprise, gaping at my best friend. “Really?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, eagerly nodding her head. “I’ve always wanted to push my boundaries. You know, I’ve had a few threesomes, and they’re great, but what if there were more guys, and all of their attention was solely on me? Or . . . I don’t know. Don’t you think it would be hot to experience being with a woman as well? While in front of other people where I’ll be put on display . . .”
She lets her thoughts trail off, but I see the thrill in her eyes, and shit. I’m jealous. I wish I had that kind of confidence to explore and push my boundaries, but being so new to all of this, I somehow doubt I’ll be taking the kinds of leaps and bounds that Becs is.
“What about you? What color do you want?” she questions, glancing over the paper again. “Are you ready to really do this? Or do you want to just watch and ease into it?”
“I umm . . . I’m not sure actually. Maybe I should go for pink. But then, because I’m still a virgin, aren’t I supposed to have the white one?”
“Yes,” Casey says. “So, in your case, you will select the white wristband to signify to our other patrons your level of experience, and then you will select another color, to determine what you’re willing to be involved with.”
“Oh, umm . . . in that case. Pink. No, wait. Red. No, pink. Shit. I uhh . . . red.”
“You sure?” Becs asks, more than amused by my indecision.
“Yes. I think so. Definitely red,” I say with a nod before swiveling my gaze back to Casey’s. “But like . . . what happens if I get in there and change my mind? Just because I have a red wristband, that doesn’t mean I have to go through with having sex, does it? I’m allowed to chicken out, right?”
Casey gives me a fond smile as if knowing exactly how to deal with nervous women like me. “Here at Vixen, all our guests are in control of their own sexual experiences,” Casey explains. “The wristband is only a guideline so that our patrons are aware of what you are comfortable with. At any time, consent can be given or taken away. It is your choice in what you participate in, whether that be publicly, or in a private room. And if you choose to explore further than what your wristband suggests, that is at your discretion. This is nobody’s experience but your own.”