“Good to know,” Dahlia managed with what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.
They were silent after that, Hayden fully focused on the road. She watched him as he drove, admiring his strong profile. He seemed so casual about all this, like it was an everyday thing and no big deal. But that actually was the case, wasn’t it? He’d made it clear—he was a member of a club where literally dozens of available women who shared his kink waited at his beck and call. Was a guy like this, one who apparently moved so freely from one woman to the next, really someone she wanted to get involved with? Was she out of her mind to have let things even get this far?
Okay, stop it right now, she ordered herself. Who ever said a word about getting involved? You’re having an adventure, that’s all. Whatever might or might not happen going forward is neither here nor there.
The snow was falling more heavily now, some of it sticking to the asphalt. Dahlia lost track of where they were as Hayden weaved expertly amidst the traffic. She got her bearings again when they entered Greenwich Village, the high marble arch that opened onto Washington Square Park now visible in the near distance.
They entered a narrow, cobblestoned lane, bare-limbed trees along one side, a high stone wall on the other. The lane was softly lit by old-fashioned streetlamps, snowflakes dancing in their glow. Both sides of the short block were lined with parked cars.
“Here we are,” Hayden said. “The Masters Club, my home away from home.”
Dahlia glanced out the window, confused. “Where?”
He grinned. “Behind that wall there. Just another layer of privacy between us and the vanilla world.” He turned into a narrow alley, revealing a freestanding brownstone, the warm glow of lights beckoning from the windows. “We own the building,” Hayden explained as he drove down a wide, sloping driveway. “It houses the club and some of the full-time staff.” He approached a six-car garage, adding, “These used to be stables back in the day. Now it’s just a garage.”
“And you’re one of the lucky six who has a space here?” Dahlia asked, impressed.
He shrugged. “One of the perks of being a Head Master.”
“Headmaster?” Dahlia echoed, confused.
“Not like a principal,” Hayden replied with a laugh. “Though the uninitiated understandably might think that. It’s two separate words, and all it means is that I’m one of the primary members of the Masters Club. I help with policy decisions and membership admission, and I assist in the selection process when we’re auditioning potential pleasure subs and service slaves.”
“Oooh,” Dahlia exclaimed, scandalized and titillated in equal measure. “Audition process! Like what you did with me?”
He glanced at her, his expression amused. “Sweetheart, what I did with you was like dipping your toe in a baby pool. To keep the metaphor going, potential service slaves and even the pleasure subs members are expected to dive from an Olympic-height board into the deep end, arms bound behind their backs. They undergo a rigorous and purposely stressful series of tests to get their full measure.”
“Huh,” Dahlia said, some of the wind taken out of her sails. “Sounds like all the onus is on them. Do the Doms have to go through a similar process?”
“Not precisely,” Hayden replied. “Dominant members pay a steep fee to join, and ongoing maintenance fees to cover costs. Before they can join, they, too, undergo a kind of audition, though with a different focus. Each potential member is subjected to an extensive background check. Then they are fully assessed for their skill, dedication to the lifestyle and responsible behavior in the community. As I mentioned before, the Masters Club isn’t just some swingers’ club with S&M trappings. We’re passionate about what we do, in every sense of the word.”
“It’s a wonder you have time for your day job,” Dahlia quipped.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Hayden said with a laugh. “Good thing I don’t need much sleep.”
He turned to her with a smile. “Forget all that stuff for now. Our main agenda tonight is to have fun.” He touched something on the visor and one of the garage doors slowly lifted. They drove into one of two remaining vacant spots and he cut off the engine.
“Ready?”
Dahlia’s stomach twisted with nervous anticipation and excitement. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Reaching into his jacket, Hayden produced an eye mask like the one she’d received with the invitation. Instead of red, it was shiny black with a trace of gold glitter at the edges. “Time for our masks,” he said, placing it over his eyes and nose.
Dahlia reached into her purse, glad now of the disguise, such as it was. Hopefully, it would hide her nerves along with her face.
Hayden was around the side of the car before she’d finished tying the satin ribbons behind her head. He opened the door and held out his hand to her. Charmed, she took it.