Page 6 of Bound to the One-Night Stand

Again, that sinking feeling churns in my gut. Digging around in my purse, I hold out my license along with Kessily.

“And here’s my membership card,” she chirps, tapping the laminate with a perfectly manicured nail. “She’s my plus one for the evening.”

She elbows me in the side, and that’s when I notice her mask is up. My fingers tremble as I lift mine as well. Until now, I didn’t realize just how much I enjoyed the anonymity of having part of my face concealed.

He squints at my license and holds it up, comparing my face to the sad picture. “Skill level.”

“Pardon?” I choke out, bringing my mask back down. “Are you asking how good I am at sex?”

Next to me, Kessily snorts, not even trying to contain her laughter. “She’s a complete newb,” she chuckles, ignoring my glare.

“And you vouch for her?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fill this out.” He hands me a clipboard and motions to a nearby table.

As I look over the form, everything seems standard. At least, I can only assume, since this is my first time at a sex club. Thankfully, they don’t ask any personal questions. It’s mostly non-disclosure statements and things to cover their asses if something goes wrong.

The bouncer looks it over for a moment, and as his gaze touches on each section, I can’t help but feel like I’m being personally judged. After several moments, he seems to be satisfied, but still gives a heavy sigh as he hands us a wristband.

“Two drink maximum for all players. If you wish to drink more, your playing privileges will be revoked, and you’ll only be allowed to observe and not join in. As you read and signed, we do not allow impaired individuals to play. That includes other substances as well. If we have any doubt of your sobriety and ability to make informed choices, you will not be allowed to participate in anything.”

Swallowing, I look back over at the bar. Perhaps if I get myself shit-faced, I won’t have to even try anything tonight. But then, the whole point of me coming here is to lose my virginity to a man of my choosing. Can’t do that if I’m not allowed to play.

As I slip my band on, the bouncer continues, pointing to a couple of small divots mostly hidden from view. “The bartender will punch these holes each time you purchase a drink. In the event you choose to go over your maximum, he will remove the band and give you a bright green one, indicating you are an observer only.”

I hold my wrist up next to Kessily’s and note the dark black rubber nearly blending in with her arm in the dim lighting. It’s a stark contrast from the pale pink standing out like a virginal siren against my skin. Great. Now everyone will know just how innocent I am.

“The color indicates you’re not only new to this club, but new to the scene,” he states before waving us away. “Don’t read too much into it.” His tone is abrupt, but at least I get to scuttle away from his intimidating gaze.

At least that explains the coloration and isn’t some siren indicating the cobwebs I have growing between my thighs. Attempting to distract myself, I grab Kessily’s arm and turn it this way and that, looking at the dark band. “Damn. You’re a kinky fucker then. Aren’t you?”

“Have I ever said otherwise? Come on! I wanna show you the actual club!”

She tugs on my arm, the enthusiasm fairly vibrating off of her as she pulls me along. Unfortunately, I need at least a dash of liquid courage before entering the kinky depths of this place.

“Or,” I groan, pulling back a touch. “And hear me out. I get a drink first?” With a sigh, she drops my hand and motions toward the mahogany bar. “So magnanimous of you,” I tease before turning to the bartender to put in my order. “I’ll have a-”

“She’ll have whatever has the least amount of alcohol because my girl here is a lightweight.”

My face screws up into a glare as I shoot her a dirty look. “I’m not a lightweight.”

“Says the girl who passes out after taking some nighttime cough medicine.”

“It’s supposed to put you to sleep. That’s its job.”

“Ladies,” the bartender interrupts, her soft chuckle barely audible over the din. “All our drinks are pretty tame. So just tell me what you want.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Kessily waves. “I’m just here for moral support.”

“I’ll have whatever tastes the least like alcohol.”

“Got it. One water and one mudslide coming up.” She motions for my wrist and slides a punch between the rubber and my skin.

One drink down and one more to go. Nursing my mudslide, I watch as others come in, all of them different and unique. Though the masks make it harder to tell exactly what type of person I’m looking at, it’s easy to discern age and gender for the most part.

More people stroll in, dripping in finery, while the majority look more like Kessily and me. That’s a relief at least. I now know I won’t be alone looking like I shopped at some discount kink store.

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