Unexpected Angel Page 2

  Before I can ask his name, the stranger disappears into the crowd, bypassing the line waiting to get inside. I wonder what he meant when he said I'd be glowing all night. Or about experiencing what I was about to see. Our brief conversation replays in my mind while I wait for Holly. It is, without a doubt, one of the most bizarre encounters in my life.

  About three seconds before I lose my cool, Holly appears from the same side of the building as where the stranger had been. “Sorry, babe. Had to park down the street. It's going to be a great fucking night!” She is bouncing around on her studded black heels and I’m not sure if it’s the beginning of an adrenaline rush, or to combat the cold October air.

  “So, uh...what exactly is this?” I ask, conflicted between wanting to prepare myself and fearing her response.

  “Honey, this is freedom. You need to promise me you'll have an open mind, okay?” Between the stranger's warning and Holly pleading with me to have an open mind, being scared to death wins out.

  “Um...” We shuffle along the sidewalk, with only four people separating us from the bouncer. I am at a loss for words. The only thing I know for certain is I didn’t want to ask for more details. As terrified as I am to find out what is happening on the other side of the heavy wooden door, curiosity is the only thing propelling my feet forward.

  Holly wraps an arm around my waist and places her head on my shoulder. I know this Holly. This is my friend who is going to push me outside of my comfort zone and wants me to go along with her hair-brained scheme. “Have I ever done anything that's put you in danger?”

  “Well, no.” It’s true. Holly might be into some crazy stuff, but she has never once made me do anything that would get me hurt. There were a few times I was certain the cops were going to come but we managed to get out of wherever we were before anything happened. It’s like Holly has a sixth sense for when parties begin to head south and she leaves.

  “And do you wind up having fun every time I push you to try something new?” She bats her eyelashes at me and I have to laugh.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” I concede, unenthusiastically. I’m not exactly content living my sheltered life, but the ‘fun Holly’ keeps pushing me to try new things, and that is just something I have always tolerated for her sake, whether I enjoyed it or not.

  “Okay, the rules. First, keep an open mind. Second, don't take drinks from strangers. Third, don't set your drink down unless you're done with it. And last, prepare to have your world rocked.” We move forward once again, now two from the front of the line.

  The lights blinking from the dance floor illuminate the dark hallway as we walk from the entrance into the club. An odd tension fills the air, and the darkness nearly suffocating as my eyes adjust to the low light.

  “Remember what I told you,” Holly shouts so I can hear her over the obscenely loud music. “If we get separated, I'll meet you back out here. Just do me a favor; stay with me.”

  Holly's repeated warnings as we turn the corner into the main club are more than freaking me out. It appears that I am one of the only people in the club not dressed head to toe in black or some equally dark color. I am also one of few without a stitch of leather on my body, other than the borrowed boots. Beyond that, it doesn’t seem much different from any other club we’ve been to, although it has been five years since I’ve been to a club at all.

  “We need to find the girls,” Holly yells, grabbing my wrist in her hand before attempting to weave through the crowd. “I told them to meet us in the back lounge because it will be easier to find them back there.”

  The vibe in the room shifts with every step we take toward the back of the building. Off to the left, the seating area has low couches arranged in small groups. Against the back wall sits Jenny, Aimee, and Bev, the remainder of the friends I still talk to on a semi-regular basis. All of them are closer to Holly than they are to me, often leaving me feeling like the proverbial fifth wheel.

  “Holy shit,” Jenny exclaims, jumping up from her seat. “I can't believe you actually got her ass out here!” She throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Congrats, Tasha. You're a free agent now!” I look down at the table and notice that our friends have started drinking without us and seem to have one heck of a head start. “Oh. My. God. What is that?” Jenny squeezes my cheeks as she turns my head to the side, examining my newest accessory.

  “A little present to myself,” I profess. As lame as it sounds, I am proud of myself for doing something I know he would disapprove of. Never again will I allow a man to tell me what to do, who to talk to, or anything else. If and when I decide to give love another try, it will be on my terms.

  “You bitch,” Jenny screeches, slapping Holly’s arm playfully. “I can't believe you took her to Dragonfly and didn't tell us. That totally should have been a group trip.”

  “Didn't know,” Holly shrugs. “Shocked the shit outta me too.”

  I look around at the four friends sitting before me and realize just how much I time I wasted over the years. All of them are dressed to kill, fitting in with the crowd around them while my outfit screams 'poser'. “So, uh, you guys do this a lot?” I ask, my stomach sinking because I already know the answer.

  “Every month,” Aimee chimes in. She is practically bouncing on her seat and I wonder what I have been missing out on. All of them seem giddy with anticipation. “Don't worry; I think you'll love it once you get over the shock factor.” Everyone laughs while I look at my friends with a confused look on my face.

  “Really, it's not that bad. You act like I've never been to a night club before.”

  Seriously, what is up with everyone? Do they think I’m so socially inept that a little bumping and grinding is going to bother me?

  I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and turn to see what it is. There, not more than twenty feet to my right, is a woman wearing next to nothing, strapped to some sort of wooden contraption. I jump when I hear a whip crack against her skin. “What the–?”

  Bev pulls me down to the couch before I fall over. I don’t know where I am, but this is so not what I signed up for. “What...what is that?” I ask once I am able to form words.

  “That,” Bev says, pointing to the back room, “Is the playroom. Don't worry; no one will make you go back there. Unless, of course, you want to.”

  “NO!” I shout. “Why on Earth would I choose to go back there?” I am appalled at the very thought and yet I can’t tear my eyes from the scene playing out in front of me.

  The nearly naked woman writhes around, but the moans coming from her sound aroused, not pained. How can that be?

  With every crack of the whip, I feel myself flinch, unable to grasp the concept that this is okay to anyone.

  Jenny comes to sit on my other side, her hand resting on my knee. “Sweetie, you say that now, but admit it, you're curious.”

  “No, I'm not. Dang, what has gotten into all of you while I've been off living the married life?” My mouth says I’m not curious, but my eyes seem glued as the woman is now free from the restraints, and the dampness pooling between my legs tells a different story. It’s a life-altering moment when you realize that something you always thought of as taboo fascinates you.

  Jenny's fingers snap in front of my face. “Tasha, you in there?” She asks sarcastically. My head slowly turns to look at her. All four of my friends are having a good time at the expense of the sheltered girl in their midst. “Hey, it's okay to watch. Hell, they'll probably get off even harder knowing you're into it. Seriously, just chill the fuck out and relax.”

  “Are you guys...” I look to my friends and then toward to the back room. “Do you guys, you know...are you into that?”

  They look at one another and laugh. “Uh, yeah. Me and Bev,” Jenny starts to explain. “We look forward to our monthly spankings over there.” She points to another wooden contraption at the other end of the back room. This one looks almost like a sawhorse with padding on top and padded rails part of the way down. “Aimee is all about the
temperature and wax play, but mostly wax because she's not a fan of fire. And Holly, she's not into receiving. You'll see her up there later tonight at the spanking horse dishing out some well-deserved punishment.”

  And with that, my brain is officially fried. “I need a drink,” is the only thing I am capable of saying.

  “Already on it,” Holly assures me, handing me a white Cosmo. Dang, that's strong. I resist the urge to toss it back like a shot, knowing it won’t take much at all for me to be completely drunk. I can only imagine how much fun the girls would have seeing me start to get tipsy after only a drink or two.

  “I think I need to dance,” I say once my martini glass is empty. I’m not necessarily in the mood to be on the dance floor, but I promised to keep an open mind and dancing seems a much safer option than sitting in this great unknown between normal and erotically bizarre.

  “Bathroom first,” Holly shouts, leading me to the restrooms. On our way there, I realize what the sexy stranger meant by glowing. In an effort to avoid making eye contact with anyone lest they might think I am looking for a quick hook-up, I train my eyes on the floor in front of me, allowing Holly's hand to guide me through the crowd. When we reach the hall leading to the restrooms, the black lights reflect off my pure white corset, nearly blinding me with the brightness it returns.

  (Dylan)

  I had no intention of coming out tonight. This entire week has sucked and I really just wanted to chill at home. Unfortunately, I had already committed to being here, so I’m kind of stuck. To top it off, most of our group bailed early, wanting to head over to the diner for a bite to eat since it didn’t look like there would be as many depraved freaks showing up as there were other nights. I can only hope the cooler weather means less of a crowd for a few months.

  Just about the time I am ready to bail, I see an adorable blonde with killer legs waiting in line all by herself. That’s enough to catch my attention, but when I see her looking around as if she is lost, I start to get concerned. I fucking hate Leather & Lace night. It’s the night all the perverts come out to play. Yes, I’m fully aware that I would be considered one of those pervs by many people, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Me? I’m here to protect girls like her from the freaks who only think they’re anything like me.

  After warning the new girl to be careful, I head inside. I could tell I was making her uncomfortable as it was and didn’t want her to pull a can of pepper spray out of her pocket or anything. If it were up to me, I would have attached myself to her side. It would be fun to teach her what the lifestyle is really like.

  “Dylan, where the fuck you been?” Zeke asks when I finally manage to snake my way through the swarm of sweaty, gyrating punks.

  “Had to go out for a smoke. Any problems in here?” I pick up my glass of water, wishing it wasn’t my night to keep my eyes open. If I have to be here, I’d much rather be having a drink to unwind from all the crap that went down over the past few days.

  Zeke shakes his head. “Nope, but it’s still early. I know it brings people in, but I really wish they’d shut down the back room.”

  “You know Vic won’t do that,” I snarl. We have tried talking to the owner of the club several times about shutting down the playroom. Let the posers have their leather, their lace, their dancing and whatever else, but a BDSM playroom has no place being in close proximity to alcohol. I sometimes wonder how many people wake up the next morning with welts wondering who attacked them. It’s a joke, really, to see what passes in places like this. “It’s his biggest night of the month most of the time. If he took away their chance to lose their inhibitions and let someone whip the shit out of them, no one would buy.”

  “Doesn’t make it right,” Zeke grumbles, slumping against the bar with his own water. His eyes catch someone walking through the bar. “Holy angel of fuckdom!”

  “Fuckdom? Really, Z?” I turn my head to see what, or who, making my friend and business partner make up words like a lame frat boy. As soon as I catch a glimpse of glowing white fabric out of the corner of my eye, I know exactly who he is talking about. Okay, ‘fuckdom’ is still a totally ridiculous word, but I can understand not finding the word he wants to use to describe her. “That’s Betsy. You stay away from her, Z. Stay away, but keep your eyes peeled, too. She’s fresh meat and I’m sure her outfit gives that away to the freak squad.”

  “You know her?” Zeke looks at me, obviously impressed that I know the heavenly beauty in a sea of demons. “Fuck man, how’d you get so lucky?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Remember how you kept on me to quit smoking when you did? Let’s just say I’ve never been happier that I didn’t listen to you.” I slap him on the back as I set my empty pint glass on the bar. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a damsel to go rescue.”

  “Tying her up and taking her home isn’t rescuing, that’s kidnapping,” Zeke calls out as I twist and turn my way back across the dance floor. One of these times, someone is going to take the shit he says seriously. I am going to be in deep fucking trouble when that happens.

  By the time Betsy comes out of the bathroom, I’m starting to get some strange looks. Even though this is a night where just about anything is acceptable, apparently a six-foot six-inch bald man with bulging biceps and tattoos can’t stand outside the ladies’ room without drawing a few nervous glances. I wouldn’t be surprised if at least three of the women glaring at me have their cell phones in hand, just in case I am there to find a suitably drunk woman to take out back and fuck. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened here on L&L night.

  (Tasha)

  Just like any other club, the ladies' room is packed. I finish before Holly and decide to wait for her in the hall rather than having drunk women fighting over the next open stall or a few square inches of counter space while they reapply thick black eyeliner jostle and shove me around. No sooner do I set foot outside the restroom door than I hear a familiar voice.

  “So, I see you haven’t run off screaming yet,” he laughs. I look up to see his dark eyes staring down at me. He has to be over six foot six, seeing as I cross the six-foot mark in these heels, and I still have to look up into his eyes.

  “No. It was close but I'm a tough girl.” I’m not about to let this arrogant man know I am a screaming hot mess on the inside, having just found out all of my friends are into kinky sex.

  “I just bet you are,” he laughs again. When he puts his arm around me, I’m not creeped out like I normally would be. There is something kind about his eyes; his voice is soothing. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Sorry, I don't take drinks from strangers.” That sounds better than telling him my friends are worried I will run into trouble if left to my own devices and I will probably catch hell for being in the hall without an escort. It’s bad enough he pegged me as a naïve, sheltered woman the first time he saw me, I see no reason to bolster that perception.

  “Lucky for you I'll allow you to accompany me to the bar, where the bartender will be the one placing the drink in your beautiful hand.” I swear his smile is so bright it glows like my corset under the black lights. If I have to guess, I would assume that he'd worn braces at some point; his teeth are that perfectly straight.

  “Um...” I am trying to stall, hoping Holly will come out of the restroom so I can let her know where I am going. “I still can't have a drink with you.”

  “And that would be because...” He shifts, crossing one foot over the other ankle. The way he’s leaning against the wall unnerves me. Again.

  “I don't even know your name. This is our second conversation in less than an hour and I have no clue who you are. You could be some sort of serial killer whose name has been all over the news and I could be your next helpless victim.”

  The stranger cocks his eyebrow at me and I can’t help but laugh. “Really? You're going to use the crazy serial killer excuse to not have a drink with me?”

  “No, I used the ‘I don't know your name’ excuse. The ser
ial killer bit was just an added bonus.”

  Tasha, shut the heck up. Just stop talking. This man is drop dead gorgeous and wants to buy you a drink. Say thank you, follow him to the bar, and get a drink. You know how to do this. Holly will get over it. Eventually.

  “Well, that's much easier to rectify than proving I'm not a murderer stalking my next prey,” he laughs again, this time a rich belly laugh that warms something deep inside of me. “I'm Dylan. And now, you'll need to introduce yourself because I also have issues having drinks with complete strangers.”

  “Tasha,” I say softly. “It's nice to meet you, Dylan.” His hand reaches for mine but misses when Holly pulls me away from him.

  “Tasha,” she scolds. “I thought I told you to stay close. Seriously, the first time you're here is not the time to introduce yourself to some random man. You should never do that here. Honestly, how hard is it to follow one simple instruction?” When she tries to push her way between Dylan and me, I move closer to him to keep her from going into this overprotective big sister mode I feel coming on. For whatever reason, it seems that Holly has a real issue with Dylan. I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t want me meeting someone in general because she’s been pushing me to start dating for a while now. No, the murderous look in her eyes tells me Dylan is definitely who the problem is as far as she’s concerned.

  Dylan laughs, running a hand across his clean-shaven head. It’s a look that is scary on many guys, just plain goofy looking on others, but on Dylan, it is one more notch on the sexy dial. “See, what did I tell you? I'm glad to know I was wrong and you're not here alone tonight.” I glare from Dylan to Holly and back to Dylan.

  “Hi, I'm Dylan,” he says, reaching past me to shake hands with Holly. Looking at him, I get the feeling he’s no fonder of Holly than she is of him. I’m beginning to feel like everyone knows everyone, except for me.