My Five Night Fling by Maci Dillon

 

 

KASSIDY

 

Wine nurtures my body while I FaceTime with Raven.

I hate the idea of leaving London.

Leaving Jarett.

And Sophia.

“Don’t overthink it, girl,” she tells me when I repeat my conversation with Sophia today.

“I’m trying not to, but I don’t want to be the cause of a setback for him.”

“Does he want this to be more than a fling?”

Honestly, I don’t know.

“I doubt it.”

I roll over and prop the phone against the pillow.

“I mean, we had a random lunch, and I told him I was here for five nights. Why would he expect more?”

“Expect, no. But hope is a powerful emotion. Be careful he’s not holding onto something he shouldn’t if you’re not interested.”

I sigh. My brain hurts.

My heart beats out of sync with my head.

“If I were staying in London, I’d be all for seeing where this went with him. Also, I doubt if the past few days would’ve played out like it this if I were living here or staying for a decent period.”

“All I’m saying is he might be thinking along the same lines.”

“But he’s married, or was.” I huff, feeling like a selfish bitch.

“Kassidy, nothing has changed. It’s a few nights. Enjoy them and try to forget what Sophia told you.”

Easier said than done.

“I want to forget, I do. What if this is his first fling or sexual encounter since his wife? What if that’s the only reason I appeal to him at all? An easy no-strings fling he can forget about because I’m leaving soon.”

Shit.

I repeat the words in my head and cover my face.

“Ah fuck, you like him?”

I hold my tongue, ignoring her real question. “Of course, I like him. Sophia, too, but—”

“No, Kass, I mean, you fucking like him. Are you sure you’re not projecting your feelings onto this situation? It’s the Kassidy way to overthink this shit, self-destruct and bail before the poor bastard has a chance to catch up.”

I roll away from the screen, sulking. “Don’t hold back,” I respond dryly.

“The simple truth is this… you have three nights left. Either blow off the guy you enjoy hanging out with and spend the night alone on one of your five nights away or flick him and go out and do your thang.”

I hate when she’s right.

It’s not a complicated situation. I’ve let my feelings, whatever they are, get in the way.

“You’re one hundred percent right as fucking always. I’ll head out tonight and do my thang. Tomorrow, Jarett will be a thing of the past.”

If I say it often enough, I will eventually believe it.

“Fuck lust. I need pure unadulterated chemistry and some hard-core sex.”

“Aaanddd... she’s back!” she wails through the phone.

We say our goodbyes because it’s the wee hours of the morning in Australia, and I’m lucky she woke up to my call.

 

 

A Few Hours Later…

 

Peeling my eyes open, I rise from the bed slightly disorientated. The last thing I recall is Jarett texting, and then I must have drifted off to sleep.

My body screams at me, my feet angry at me for walking the city in heels today. I plug my phone in to charge, silence it, and run the tub. I cram myself like a sardine into the doll-sized bath with the bottle of wine I grabbed on my way back this afternoon.

It’s getting dark out as I submerge my top half in the hot soapy water with my thighs and feet dangling over the edge. What a fucking sight if someone were to walk in right now. I laugh as I sip from the bottle.

My muscles relax into the heat, and I swoosh around to change position so my poor feet can soak up the pleasures. I drain a little water out and refill with warmer water, pulling my knees to my chest and stretching my feet to rest against the wall.

Heavenly bliss.

Sweat pools on my forehead, and I tie my hair on top of my head in a messy bun. The wine turns from crisp and refreshing to warm and scintillating, flooding my body with an alcohol-filled hum.

Yeah, this is life. I deserve this. Enjoying the ambiance, I allow my eyes to drift shut. I picture candles burning around the outskirts of the tub, soft music playing in the background, and the aroma of salted caramel seeping into my space.

A knock at the door startles me, causing me to almost drop my wine, my liquid courage for the night. My pre-drinks with me, myself, and I.

I still in the cooling water, clutching the bottle to my chest, and listen as the knocking continues.

My eyes spring a leak when I hear Jarett’s voice. “Kassidy, answer the door.”

I want to see him. I do. But I don’t trust myself.

He doesn’t deserve pity or awkward interactions because he’s lost his wife. I wish I could rewind the day and alter the course of the conversation.

“Kassidy, I’m worried. Please, call me!”

Feeling like a mega-bitch, I stay in the tub for about an hour after, paranoid Jarett is hovering at the door, waiting for some sign of life.

My phone pings a dozen times, each time increasing my anxiety.

Attempting to stand, my brain is foggy, my skin shriveled and prune-like. 

I make my way to my phone and find a message from Chloe.

 

Chloe: Raven filled me in. Go get it tonight, girl. Can’t wait to see you in a few days!

 

Ashamed of myself for avoiding Jarett and angry at myself for being such a weak-minded selfish bitch, I confess my sins in response to Chloe’s message.

 

Chloe: Suck it up, princess, it’s your vay-cay. I want to know what the club is like!

What club?

 

I sit on the edge of the sofa and scroll through the messages. Most of them are from Jarett, but there’s one from Raven.

 

Raven: Kass, you must go for me! BDSM club close to you, single ladies free. Get slut-dressed and have fun for both of us.

 

I click on the link she included.

Falling onto the sofa, I scroll through the pages of their website. It promises classy, discreet fun. A members-only club opening to singles once a month. The sex gods are on my side because tonight is singles night.

Safety guaranteed, sexy attire required, and no requirements to join in. Watching only is allowed. My libido stirs, and I consider what to wear.

Visiting a sex club is something I’ve often discussed with Raven. More specifically, an underground London cellar like I read about in Raven’s smut books she shares with me. 

Tonight, I’ll discover if there’s any truth or accuracy to these clubs.

I’m red hot with anticipation just thinking about it.

I don’t have to engage in any sexual acts. I’ll treat it as an assignment and report to Raven. I’m not vanilla, but I’ve also never considered being suspended and whipped or fucked in front of a room full of strangers.

I’m a caramel swirl.

My clit throbs at the memory of Jarett spanking my ass. The harder his hand fell over my cheeks, the more I moved around his cock. The pain heightened my pleasure in a way it never had before.

This club might be exactly what I need tonight to take my mind off Jarett. I’d be so hot and wonton afterward, I’ll have to go clubbing and find me a man to bring home.

Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping once again into my heeled boots. These babies will be the death of me, but they’re the warmest footwear I have with me.

I guide them over my crotchless fishnets running beneath my leather skirt. If I had a kink, it would be wearing fishnets. I love the texture against my skin and wear them often beneath tights and jeans. It’s almost as weird as my fascination with collecting scarves.

Laughing, I imagine my tombstone when I die.

Caramel swirl, fishnet-wearing scarf collector.

I finish my look with a thick lacy corset and long satin jacket, then fix my makeup. I shoot off a quick text to Jarett and grab my coat.

 

Kassidy: Sorry to make you worry, I’m fine. Maxed out, going to sleep it off tonight. Talk tomorrow.

 

Short and sweet.

 

 

“No cell phones allowed,” the bouncer warns, retrieving my phone and adding it to the packet with my details attached.

One foot after the other, I move confidently toward the man and woman at the next door. My shoulders back, chin lifted, my jittery nerves fall by the wayside.

“Hello, miss, may I take your coat?”

“Thank you, yes.” The woman takes the packet containing my phone, and I remove my coat to hand to the statue-like gentleman who’s skillfully keeping his eyes on everything around him but attending to my needs at the same time.

I pull my satin jacket tighter around me and ensure the wrap is secured firmly. I didn’t have the lady balls to walk around in my corset until I knew what was waiting for me on the other side of the door.

“Are you meeting with anyone, ma’am?” the older man asks me.

“No. It’s my first time here. I’m only visiting London for a few days.”

He nods silently, and his eyes dart to the woman who was looking me up and down.

“I suspect you may want to remove that layer as well,” she says, and I hesitate. “Trust me,” she continues and waits patiently for my reaction. Reluctantly, I peel off the extra layer to reveal my lace corset I picked up at the vintage boutique store today. My boobs pop from the top, showing my deep cleavage, and I feel proud of my girls.

I can do this.

My blonde waves fall heavily to where the low-cut corset gathers high above my ass. With a little torso showing, my naval bar is on full display.

The doors open, and I’m given two free drink vouchers and directed toward the bar. My steps are slow as my eyes dart left and right, unsure where to look and what to take in first. There are people spread everywhere. Some stand alone at the bar, people-watching, while others dance seductively on the dance floor.

Couples drape themselves over the sofa and enjoy making out in front of an audience. In the corner at the other side of the bar, a woman dressed only in heels, a lace corset, and a studded collar is suspended to a wooden cross, being teased by a man. I observe her eyes roll back in her head, and her body quiver beneath his touch as he caresses her with his mouth.

Then she yelps.

Did he bite her?

I make my way to the bar, the laser lighting and seductive music enhancing the thrill from my earlier wine binge. I stand between two unoccupied stools, debating whether to perch myself on a chair and risk revealing everything under my short skirt.

“What can I get you?”

The woman behind the bar lacks personality but makes up for it with her luscious curves. It’s difficult to see her true beauty under the weight of her makeup, but with her jet-black curls pulled back in a tight ponytail high on her head, her high cheekbones and sharp features give her the perfectly put-together mistress look

“Margarita on the rocks, please.” I hand her one of my drink vouchers, and she accepts it with a smile.

Dressed in a scantily clad leather brasier with matching booty shorts and knee-high boots, I couldn’t help but peer over the bar at her while she makes my drink.

I observe those surrounding me at the bar and notice I’m the only woman standing here. When my margarita is served, I’m unsure whether to sit at the bar with the men who are watching me with hawk-eyes ready to pounce and make me their next meal or find a seat alone to take in the atmosphere. Across the way, I scope out a small table and single armchair facing the majority of the action in the room.

Taking a sip of my margarita, I appreciate the tang of the tequila and lime on my lips until I begin to feel too much like prey.

I shift uncomfortably, moving the weight off my stance from one foot to the other. As I’m about to move to the single chair, the woman behind the bar approaches me again.

“This your first time here?” she asks while wiping the bar.

“That obvious, huh?”

Her eyes shift between the guy at the end of the bar and me. “Looks like you have an admirer,” she whispers subtly, pointing her head in his direction.

“Oh,” I offer awkwardly, glancing in the general direction. “I’m only here as a favor to a friend, just checking things out.”

“Sing out if you need anything. My name is Tessa, by the way.”

“Kassidy, nice to meet you.”

Another one of the guys calls to her, so I use the opportunity to flee.

Eclectic music filters through the sound system, and I take a seat in the plush armchair, crossing my legs and ready to watch others play.

There’s a couple between the woman dancing in the suspended cage and the couple whipping a woman tied to the cross. It appears he’s guiding her pleasure. Gently removing the shy and apprehensive part of her, the pleasure is transforming her right in front of my eyes, and I can’t look away. I can sense her letting go, enjoying the moment at the mercy of this man.

After a few minutes of observing them, I lean forward to pick up my margarita. Mindlessly, I swirl the straw around the ice cubes and scan the club. A sign hanging above a darkened hallway catches my eye.

‘Private Rooms.’

I wonder if there are rooms with a private viewing area.

While I didn’t come here to participate, I can’t deny how turned on I am after watching the couples in this room.

I’m here to soak up the environment, take mental notes, and report back to Raven. Above all things, I need to shift my wandering mind away from Jarett. I gave myself one hour to scope out this kink club when I arrived before I plan to disappear upstairs to the nightclub in search of a suitor for a few hours of fun.

Any man who isn’t Jarett.

People begin to gather at the opposite side of the bar. Intrigued, I gravitate toward them. Men and women of all shapes and dress codes stand in a tight-knit circle. I elbow my way into the small crowd until I can see the center attraction.

A woman is kneeling on a shaggy rug, her hands tied behind her back with two men standing directly in front of her—completely naked—their cocks erect and glistening beneath the fluorescent purple light above.

My chest expands to stabilize the anxious beating of my heart.

As I watch one of the men blindfold her, envy overpowers me. I can’t take my eyes off the trio.

The men peruse the crowd as if to ensure their audience is ready. Invested in the pleasure they are about to derive from this woman, they move closer to her. Their cocks gently slap her cheeks until her mouth opens and her tongue protrudes, desperate for contact with them.

One of the men slaps himself on her tongue repetitively until her tongue begins to swirl, and her lips close around him.

Standing proudly, hands on his hips, the man begins to flex his hips, moving his cock in and out of her mouth. A slow and steady rhythm. The second man’s eyes are glued to the woman worshiping his friend while he strokes himself fluidly.

I’m so fucking turned on I can barely think straight.

When the man pulls out, he signals for his friend to step in to replace him. He also teases her lips as she licks at his precum. My mouth falls open slightly as the first guy moves behind the woman, stands over her legs, and places his hand around the front of her throat.

He whispers something in her ear as he holds her throat and strokes himself with perfect rhythm. She nods.

My head rocks, agreeing with her.

I want to be her.

Snapping out of my trance, I consciously become aware of the couples playing with each other or themselves, as they too watch the trio.

My eyes lift across the circle, and my breath stalls in my chest.

Dark, angry eyes connect with mine, and my flushed skin burns beneath his stare.

Jarett.

How the fuck did he know where I was?

A wall of people blocks my fall as I stumble backward, desperate to escape his glare. Turning, I push through the crowd.

I lied to him.

To protect him from falling for me.

No, to protect my heart from breaking when I leave. 

OMG, what have I done?

What must he think of me for being here?

For telling him I was exhausted and staying in for the night?

My heart beats unevenly against my chest wall, so hard the vibrations spread through to my throat. Butterflies swoop viciously from side to side in the pit of my stomach. As my throat begins to tighten and the room closes in around me, I pull a melting cube of ice from my drink and slip it into my mouth.

Breaking free from the crowd, I take a second to find my bearings and seek out the exit.

Tessa, the woman from the bar, approaches me with a concerned look on her face. “Kassidy, is everything okay?”

I look behind me for the first time, and not surprisingly, Jarett is right there.

And his wild and crazy eyes are focused only on me.