Chapter 3

Faye

Why do I still have Easton's card, and why is it sitting propped up against my computer monitor?

Every evening when I get home from work and sit down at my home computer, I'm faced with that card. It taunts me. It's like a siren, whispering at me. You know you want to. You know you're curious.

It's been two weeks since I went to that BDSM class. Since then, I've spent about an hour every evening researching BDSM. I'm a researcher after all. Research is what I live for. I don't even go to a new restaurant without checking their ratings, reviews, and menu selections first.

When I went to the zoo last weekend—to keep my mind off of Easton—I spent three days prior researching everything the Seattle zoo had to offer, plotting out my day, and even deciding where I would eat lunch and which items I would order from the menu.

I finger the card, pick it up, look at it, then flip it over. I've memorized his number. I don't need the card. I'll know his number twenty years from now. My memory isn't exactly eidetic but close. When I want to know something, I won't forget it.

I prop the card back against my computer, check the time, and click on the open tab for the site I was researching yesterday. I only allow myself an hour a night. I could get sucked into something and look up and find the sun coming up if I'm not careful.

I set my alarm and start reading. I've read a lot. This isn't new information. I keep glancing at the card. Eventually, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. Two things keep going through my mind. One of them is Easton. Thoughts of him consume me, especially when I'm trying to go to sleep. I've lost sleep for the past two weeks.

The other thing that infiltrates my mind is the visual of that woman on the spanking bench. I breathe heavier every time I think of her strapped to that padded bench, her ass on display all pink and hot. The way she moaned… I nearly moaned with her. I nearly moan every time I think about it.

And I'm fixated. I've tried reading my favorite science journals. I've tried watching documentaries. I've tried listening to music. Nothing blocks out the visuals in my head.

Maybe I should take Easton's offer and go to the club. He said I could just visit and observe. I don't have to participate in anything. I could just watch and get this fixation out of my system.

But what about my obsession with Easton himself? The man is way out of my league. I looked him up. He and his brother developed an app before they even graduated from college. Apparently, they sold it for a lot of money and went on to research and develop more apps.

I need to shake him from my system. Seeing him in person is not going to help. I have ridiculous, irrational thoughts about him that are pure fiction.

I've used my vibrator so many times in the past two weeks it's probably going to stop charging. I bet I've masturbated more since I went to Edge than all the times in the past year combined.

I'm usually focused on nothing but work. When I get home at night, I have a routine. It doesn't include men. I don't have any interest in dating or letting anyone into my life. I'm a solitary person. Relationships aren't my gig.

Before I went to Edge, I masturbated to thoughts of fake men without faces who slid between the sheets with me in a hotel—not my home. They stroked my clit until I came. That's it. They didn't penetrate me. I didn't touch them. I just needed to pretend human fingers touched me while I held my favorite vibrator against my clit.

Now, it's like a whole new world has opened up to me. I'm not sure it's a good thing. For one thing, I visualize much kinkier activities. I'm at the club. I'm restrained. I'm exposed. People are watching me, and I can't stop the fact that I come in front of them. I don't even need contact with my clit. I come from being exposed.

Surely, my thoughts aren't normal. Though how would I ever know? I certainly wouldn't tell a living soul what's been going through my head. Not even Trinity.

The man who dominates me is not headless. He's always Easton. Every night, my thoughts have expanded. He's started touching me. He reaches between my legs and strokes my folds.

I can orgasm in under two minutes. I've never been able to do that before. I also think about it during the day. I can't wait to get home, take my shower, get in bed, and grab my vibrator. It's like a drug. I need my daily fix of imaginary Easton commanding me.

I should just call him, accept his generous offer, and visit the club. Maybe I can flush it out of my system with one visit. Maybe two. It won't kill me to go four times, once a week for a month.

Easton must be a busy man when the club is open. He and his brother own it. I probably won't even see either of them. I'll just be a voyeur, standing in the shadows, watching.

I glance at his card again. I can't believe I'm considering this idea. It's been two weeks, though, and I've developed an unhealthy relationship with what I imagine happens at Edge. I bet I'm exaggerating what the experience would be like. I bet if I went, I would find out what I felt while watching that scene was an anomaly.

The next time I go, nothing will affect me like that did. It was a fluke. I should get it out of my system so I can put it behind me and continue with my regularly scheduled life. The one that doesn't include sex clubs and buff men.

I pick up my phone with shaky fingers and stare at it. I don't have to call him. I could just text. It's seven o'clock. The club doesn't open until eight. Easton might be busy, though. I won't be offended if he doesn't respond tonight. It might take him a day or two to get back to me.

It's actually a good plan. I'll text him now. He'll be busy. It will give me time to think about my crazy plan before he responds.

I type in his number. I consider adding it to my contacts, but decide against it. I don't need Easton in my phone. This communication is only to establish my temporary membership. We won't be corresponding after this one time. Taking a deep breath, I compose a text and stare at it for a minute, making sure I spelled everything correctly and building up the guts to hit send.

Hi. This is Faye Lunsford. I've been thinking about your offer to visit the club. If your offer still stands, I'd like to take you up on it. My curiosity is piqued. I would just want to observe. I'm not interested in more. Maybe one day next month would be convenient? Thank you for your consideration.

Does it sound too formal? Too stilted? I'm not good at social cues. Or social anything, really. I was a wallflower in high school, and I'm still a wallflower. I like it. I like to watch people. I find them fascinating. And nothing has ever been more fascinating than observing the members of Edge.

I finally hit send and then blow out a breath. It's done. I won't think about it again. If he responds in a few days, great. If not, then I need to let this weird obsession go.

I nearly jump out of my seat when my phone suddenly rings in my hand. I stare at it in shock. The incoming call is from Easton's number. Why is he calling? He could have just responded to my text. I nearly drop the phone before I manage to answer it. "Hello?" My voice is faint.

"Hey, Faye. I'm so glad you texted. I was beginning to think you wouldn't. It's been two weeks."

"Well, I, uh, needed to do some research and, uh…" I sound like a fool. I cringe and bite my lip to stop myself from speaking.

"Research is good. I'm glad you did that. You'll be less shocked by what you see in the club if you've done some reading on the subject."

I lick my lips, surprised by his casual reaction. Thankfully, my words weren't as dorky as they sounded coming out of my mouth.

"Why don't you come in tonight?"

My breath hitches. Tonight? Is he serious? "Uh, I wasn't planning to go out tonight. I figured next month sometime. I thought you would need more notice. Don't I need to fill out forms and get a background check and stuff?"

He chuckles. "You do need to fill out some forms. You can do them from home if you'd like. I assume you're not a serial killer or an abusive Dominant who's been kicked out of several other clubs for violating the rules."

I flinch. "Uh, no. I'm not either of those things."

"Text me your email. I'll send you the forms. You can return them through email and come over. We open at eight. I can show you around or get someone else to do so if you'd rather. Or you're also welcome to explore on your own."

"It won't bother anyone for me to observe them?"

"Goodness no. A lot of people enjoy being watched. Many of the people who do public scenes do so because it's titillating knowing people are watching them."

Tonight, though? I wasn't planning on going there tonight or even next week. I need to work up the nerve first. I was thinking along the lines of three weeks from now. I could put it on my calendar. Plan for it. Emotionally.

I glance at the paper planner I have on my desk and wince. I don't have anything planned for tonight. My neat handwriting indicates I plan to jog tomorrow morning on my treadmill at eight. I intend to start my laundry at ten and go to the grocery store while the washer runs. I'm pathetic.

"Don't overthink it, Faye," he says gently. "Just come in. No obligation. Like you said, satisfy your curiosity."

I don't have any excuses. Maybe I should be spontaneous and just go. Then, I won't spend three weeks fretting over it. "Um, okay. I guess I could do that. What should I wear?"

"We do have a dress code. No T-shirts, no logos, no jeans, no tennis shoes. Slacks or a dress are preferred. A blouse and skirt. Whatever you're comfortable in. You can wear flats or heels."

I wince. "I don't do well in heels."

"Then wear flats. There will be people here in all kinds of fetish wear. Some will be in extremely revealing lingerie. Some will be naked."

I draw in a breath. I can't believe I'm considering this—a club where people will be naked. I've never seen a naked adult. I don't even watch porn. I considered it a few times this week for the first time in my life and then nixed the idea for fear that I would end up with a virus on my computer.

"Okay," I whisper.

"You can get here whenever you want, Faye. I'll leave your name with Jax at the entrance downstairs. He'll let you in and arrange for someone to escort you to the stairs so you can get to the second floor. Marny will be working the reception desk on the second floor tonight. I'll tell her to expect you."

It's so complicated. I'm not sure I fully absorbed everything he just said. I usually pay such close attention to directions. I'm so out of my element that I fear I missed something.

"I'll text all of that to you, Faye," he adds in a kind voice. Maybe he read my mind. I'm okay with that.

"Thank you."

"See you soon."

I'm shaking as he ends the call. Afraid I might drop the phone, I set it on the desk and take a deep breath. I'm going to Edge tonight. I've taken leave of my senses.