A short set of stairs ended at a wide landing. The door was manned by security on Friday and Saturday nights. Because security and anonymity were paramount to club members, Ben was surprised the door was propped open with a barstool and he could wander in, unimpeded.
The large main room, decorated in gold and red, harkened back to brothels in the Wild West. An ornate horseshoe-shaped bar dominated the back corner. The floor to tin ceiling barback consisted of gilded mirrors and glass shelves. A sizeable brick and slate fireplace took center stage on the opposite wall. Several old-fashioned velvet, leather and brocade couches were placed in a semi-circle in front of it. Other chairs and loveseats separated the outer space into individual seating areas. Room dividers also created intimate, hidden spots. At the far back of the room was a hallway that split into two sides.
The high-pitched whine of the vacuum cleaner stopped and Sully strode into view. “Bennett!” He pulled him in for a one-armed man hug. “Good to see you.”
“You too. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one here.”
“Nah. Cody’s cleaning up a mess in the hallway. Murphy is next door, counting the till. Want a beer?”
“Wouldn’t say no.”
Sully slipped behind the bar. “It’s been a while.”
“Sorry I haven’t been around.”
“No worries. Been slow in the club.” Sully popped the top on a bottle of Moose Drool.
Ben settled on the stool. “What about the bar?”
“The bar side always stays busy.”
“That’s gotta make Cody and Trace happy.” He took a pull off his beer. “What’s new with you?”
Sully shrugged and loosened his tie. “Not much. Keeping my head above water at the day job. I sling drinks one night a week at the bar to give Cody a break. I’ve been on overseer status at the club most Saturday nights.”
“You still makin’ time with that redhead from Sheridan?”
“The last two times I’ve seen her haven’t been on club nights. She comes into the bar side, tosses back a couple of appletinis, we shoot the breeze, and she’s gone before closing time.”
Ben frowned. “Think she wants to see you outside of the club?” Most female club members didn’t hang out in the Rawhide Bar. The reason they’d joined the club was to avoid random, disappointing hookups with half-drunk men after last call. Being a member of the Rawhide Club guaranteed they’d get laid since that was the club’s objective—providing a place for no-strings-attached, safe and consensual sex.
“I don’t know.” Sully rested his elbows on the bar. “I like her. The sex is great. She’s not heavy into the Dom/sub stuff, which is fine with me.”
Sully’s attitude surprised Ben. “Really?”
“In the last couple months I’ve realized that while I enjoy certain aspects of this club, it’s not a permanent lifestyle choice for me. I know Murphy and Layla are happy living the life twenty-four/seven. I suspect Cody and Trace will eventually find a permanent submissive. No judgment from me. But Christ, Ben, I don’t wanna put a damn slave collar on a woman. I don’t want her to kneel at my feet. All I want is a lover who’s sexually open-minded and lets me call the shots when we’re getting busy.”
Ben pointed his beer bottle at Sully. “Which is why we both joined this club in the first place. Neither of us was finding that open-mindedness in the regular dating world.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You need a reminder, because I remember those days, pretending a quick f**k-and-suck hookup satisfied me. I got goddamn tired of feelin’ like a deviant for what I did want from the women who shared my bed. So while I understand where you’re coming from, I also ain’t gonna kid myself that I’ll ever find the type of woman I want outside of a club like this.”
Sully whistled. “That’s a harsh answer.”
“But it’s a no bullshit answer. It was…liberating when I stopped lying to myself that my membership in this club was temporary.”
Sully’s astute gaze pinned him in place. “You looking for a permanent sub too?”
“Even if I was, I doubt I’d find one.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Says the lawyer,” Ben drawled. “So, why haven’t you asked the redhead out?”
“Scared to. What if I find out she’s a kindergarten teacher who reads to the elderly in her spare time?” Sully dropped his voice. “Would I be able to f**k her as hard and raw as I did before? Or what if the attraction only makes sense in the club?”
“I hear ya. Which is why I haven’t played with a woman from this club, outside the club, for a while.”
“A while?” Sully repeated with confusion.
“Can you blame me after what happened with Zoe?”
“No. Hell, I’d forgotten about her.”
“Wish I could,” Ben muttered. Zoe had been sweet at first, and he’d even taken her to his house—which was a rarity. Didn’t take long to discover she needed far more pain in her sex play than he was comfortable dishing out. Zoe preferred to be caned. Not occasionally, but as a prelude to every sexual encounter. And she hadn’t wanted the marks only on her ass; she’d demanded them on her legs, arms and back.
When Ben refused to beat her that severely, Zoe turned nasty, threatening to blab far and wide about Ben’s sexual appetites. That’s when he’d discovered she lived in his hometown. Ben feared how much damage that type of rumor could do to him—a man who fiercely guarded his privacy, especially within his enormous family and within the conservative ranching community. The only reason she hadn’t blabbed was under threat of expulsion from the club. And luckily, she’d been scarce in recent months. Still, Ben had asked himself if the misstep he’d made with her had been his fault. If he’d just talked to her honestly, would it have had a positive outcome for both of them?
The incident reinforced Ben’s decision to keep the two halves of himself separate: Bennett, the sexual dominant, and Ben, the laid-back rancher. The women who appealed to Bennett would never find a permanent place in Ben’s life. Inside the club he never spoke of his life outside the club.
One thing the incident hadn’t changed? The fact Ben liked sexual variety. He liked devoting a few nights to a woman, figuring out what she needed, giving it to her and heightening the sexual experience for both of them. He knew that’s why he excelled at domination games: he didn’t get complacent. Or attached.