Club Dishabille (Apprivoise)

172 Pages·2014·0.63 MB·English

by  Aoide Arden

CLUB
DISHABILLE
by
Arden Aoide
Copyright © 2012 Arden Aoide
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
[email protected]
Quotes from Song of Solomon 2:16 and 4:16, The Holy Bible, King James
Version, 1611
Quote from Devo, Whip It, 1980
Quotes from Saint-Exupéry, Antoine de. Le Petit Prince and The Little Prince.
Trans. Katherine Woods. Copyright © New York: Harcourt, Brace & World,
1943.
For my muse
CLUB DISHABILLE
A tale of Alex and Dahlia, of foolish love gone right.
Please don't try this at home.
Chapter 1
“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You
become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for
your rose...”—Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Dahlia was two seconds from doing a runner. She sat perched on the edge of the
bar stool, fiddling with the straw in her whiskey and Coke, wondering if she
really had the nerve to continue on with this conversation. The woman across
from her at the bar didn’t seem to judge her, but why should she? She owned the
club.
“Well, normally we just get people in here who want to dabble. We
surprisingly get more couples than individuals, but the individuals, like I said,
are mainly just curious. Their curiosity for those types of games don’t last as far
as I can tell, and they become curious about other things. They still come here,
but they tend to look for other distractions.” The club owner, Miranda
Marchand, took a sip of her ginger ale and glanced back at Dahlia. The woman
could barely look her in the eye. “Have you tried looking at individual ads in the
Chronicle?”
Dahlia looked up at her, brushing her wayward brown curls out of her face.
“Yeah, um, meeting strange men in desolate places is all anyone would offer. I
think they thought it would be a part of the appeal. That’s why I thought a club
would be better. More people, you know?” She shrugged. “I don’t know what
the norm is.”
“Most people don’t. Most think a little spanking and handcuffs for the evening
and they’re suddenly experienced in the lifestyle–”
“But I don’t know if I’m really interested in everything about the lifestyle,”
Dahlia cut in quickly. “The Internet would have you believe that it’s all latex and
torture devices, but I’m interested in the intimacy of it, of pleasing someone with
my submission. Of growing with someone. Could you imagine a want ad for
that?” She laughed humorlessly.
“Maybe if you put your ad in a church bulletin.” Miranda smiled. “Wanted:
Single male needed to discipline female who may or may not like pain. No latex
or torture devices.”
That shocked a laugh out of Dahlia. “I may not mind a little latex or torture,
but I think there would need to be some level of trust. Maybe it’s not what’s
usually done, but I’d like to get to know a person a little first, talk, or exchange
some emails. I just can’t imagine walking into something with my head down
and allowing a perfect stranger to smack me around for my pleasure.” Dahlia
paused and looked Miranda in the eye. “Maybe I’m high maintenance, but I’d
like a strong verbal relationship. The talking bit is my real kink, I think. It’s the
one that I think is the hardest to pull off. A man with a way with words and
whom I trusted, could probably talk me into anything, latex and torture devices
included.”
Miranda nodded. “You’re right. Men get on top of you and grunt nonsense in
your ear, but it only takes a few phrases from them to change the tone of the
whole experience.” Miranda studied Dahlia for a moment. She was pretty with
her mess of shoulder length curls and short, black, jersey cotton dress. Miranda
was also about a head taller, maybe a bit more, but Miranda had been blessed
with her father’s height. Unlike her baby brother who was a few inches shorter.
Speaking of Alex, she wondered if her brother would be interested. He was the
only man that she knew personally that could have the patience and desire to try
with Dahlia Warwick. He’d never been able to find a woman who was willing to
allow him any of his needs for more than a night or two. He’d given up looking,
Miranda thought to herself, so she wasn’t sure he’d agree, but she would ask
anyway. He was the reason she'd called to arrange a meeting with Dahlia.
Dahlia interrupted her thoughts. “So that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I just
wondered if you had any advice. Should I take my chances and come on a Friday
night? Or...?”
“Well, you can certainly do that if you want, but give me a few days.
Matchmaking isn’t usually one of my services, but as it happens I might know
someone. He’s sort of off the scene, but he might be interested,” Miranda said,
standing. It was time to get the club ready for the night.
“Why is he off the scene, or is that too personal?” Dahlia asked, standing as
well.
Miranda thought for a moment and sighed. “He’s very serious,” Miranda
hedged. “And what was fun for a while just wasn’t very fulfilling to him. He
wanted more than what was offered to him.” She wanted to say more, but she
didn’t know how far she could go without being a gossip, or betraying her
brother’s trust. She felt as if she might have said too much.
Dahlia nodded and took a nervous breath. “Alright. I’ll wait, then. Do you
think he’ll agree?”
Miranda shrugged. “I think he won’t at first, but curiosity could possibly
change his mind.” Then she remembered something. “What is it you do, if you
don’t mind me asking?”
Dahlia, taken off guard by the question, answered anyway. “Mostly I’m just a
mom helping my daughter get through her high school years, but I work as a
CPA. My ex-husband and I own a building around the corner from here. We
mostly work with businesses.”
“So, you know your way around a computer?” Miranda asked.
“Sure. Did you need help with something?” Dahlia asked, a bit puzzled, but
she had time to help if Miranda needed it.”
Miranda laughed a little. “No, no, just wondering, but maybe during tax time,
though you’re probably swamped.”
Dahlia nodded. “I am, but we run an efficient company and we wouldn’t say
no to another client.”
“You’re on good terms then, yes?” Miranda asked as she walked Dahlia out of
the club to her car. It was ridiculously hot outside and even after living in Texas
all her life, Miranda still wasn't used to it. And it was only July. “You and your
ex?”
“Yes. We really should have never gotten married. We thought after I got
pregnant that it was the best thing, but we just aren’t all that attracted to each
other,” Dahlia said, telling a palatable version of the truth.
“You must have been attracted to each other at some point,” Miranda said.
“Not so much attraction, just alcohol. We seem to like each other a lot if it’s
been awhile and we drink together. Luckily, I learned a couple years ago to stop
doing that.” Dahlia smiled and leaned against her car. “He’s my best friend and a
great dad, and I don’t know why we’re not attracted to each other. It would be
easier,” she sighed. “I like where we’re at now, though. Callie, our daughter, can
work us both over now.”
Miranda laughed, but was still slightly confused. “You’d think that living
together for so long, you’d eventually develop something more.” She wondered
if there was something going on. Maybe he was gay. Or maybe Dahlia was a
horrible nag. Alex would kill her if that were the case. Unless he gets to punish
her for it, Miranda thought with a smirk.
“You’d think,” Dahlia said wryly. “In many ways it did. We’re very loyal to
each other. Our friendship deepened substantially. I was becoming very bitter
towards the lack of intimacy and he faked his way through when he could. I
realized that I had to make a choice: Stay and become bitter or we split
amicably. I chose the latter.” She shrugged negligently.
“How did he take it?” Miranda wondered aloud, realizing that she really had
no business asking.
Dahlia thought for a moment. “He knew it was coming. He knew it was
inevitable. He was irritated at first, but once we figured things out, he forgot
about his irritation. The only thing that changed was he moved across the hall.”
Dahlia smiled a little. “We live in the same building. Right above our business.”
“Does he ever bring women home?” Miranda asked before she thought better
of it. Or men, she thought.
Dahlia chuckled. “No. I don’t think he knows how to pick up women. I am
convinced that he will find someone, though. I just hope his mind isn’t
elsewhere when she’s staring him in the face.” Dahlia smiled widely. “Maybe I
should bring him here on a weekend. I could convince him. Probably.” Dahlia
looked at Miranda. She was tall and lean and striking. Dahlia would have hated
her instantly on the street. She had a short black blunt haircut and dark eyes
behind black-rimmed glasses. She was beautiful. If Nick couldn’t turn his head
at her, he would be a hopeless case.
“He might go running for the hills,” Miranda said. “I could lure him into the
dungeons with promises of ledgers–don’t smirk at me like that!” She laughed.
Dahlia still gave her a look. “You have dungeons in there? I might have to
reconsider.”
Miranda smiled. “It’s too hot and dry here for proper dungeons, but they
certainly look it.” She didn’t want to say that she lived down there or that her
brother had moved into the renovated and unused rooms. She hadn’t wanted to
turn them into guest rooms simply because it was in a separate area that gave her
a semblance of privacy. “And if I don’t go set up the whips and chains, then it
won’t get done.”
Dahlia’s eyes widened and Miranda laughed. “Kidding, kidding. Well, kind
of.” She smirked. “Anyway, I’m going to give him your number. He’s
continually on his phone for work, so texting is his preferred method of
communication. I’m not guaranteeing anything, though. I could probably
convince him to text you, but then it will be up to you to convince him to keep
texting you.”
Dahlia sobered. “I...that would work.” She swallowed audibly.