Play Assingment

Chapter 2

I left the office, puzzled. I was sure that I could easily cope with the task, but there was something that alerted me. What exactly? I had no idea. I just got the feeling that they gave me incomplete information, deliberately hiding a critical component. I shook my head, telling myself to stay calm. Nothing fatal would happen. I'd go to the club, look at the crowd of writhing sweaty bodies, walk away from a few stoners who want to have s*x in the toilet, and calmly return home. It should only take a few hours.

I walked to the car without thinking about anything. I watched the passers-by scurrying past, noting the decline in the heat and the appearance of several clouds. Maybe it would rain after all?

It hadn't rained for more than two weeks, and people were languishing in the stuffiness. A thought arose. What if, after the article, you move somewhere to the south? A small town along the sea. Fortunately, finances allowed it. A decent amount has accumulated on the account. Remembering the money, I winced. That money wasn't mine.

With regard to the money that Mason gave, I took a strong position. I decided not to touch it. Why? I do not know. Many divorced women dreamed of being adequately provided for by their ex-husbands. I knew several girls who did not receive alimony or child support at all. When we divorced, we did not raise the financial issue at all. He bought me an apartment, left the car, and I was happy. And what was I to complain about? I didn't have to wander around rented dwellings or take public transport. Mason took care of my comfort.

Yes, he did a noble thing like a man. But I couldn't forget why we got divorced.

Annoyed by unnecessary memories, I quickened my pace. When I got back to the cafe, I noticed that Emma was leaving with the guy she liked. Mentally, I wished her luck. Well, at least good s*x.

I got home quickly. I parked my car and, after saying hello to the concierge, walked to the elevator. Once in the apartment, I took off my sandals with pleasure. Even with a small heel, my legs are tired. I made a beeline to the shower. It will not hurt to wash away dust and sweat. And I could clear my head. Before I had time to undress, the doorbell rang.

Who could it be? I did not expect any guests. Neighbors? We had three apartments on the floor, one of which was empty. The obliging concierge once whispered that a certain unfriendly and gloomy gentleman lived there, but he was often absent on business trips. She added in a whisper, "Bachelor." I then listened and grinned. How many books have been written and films made about romances with bachelor neighbors? No, thank you!

Throwing on my robe, I went to the door and looked into the lock. There was a man on the landing outside my apartment. Frowning. With 3-day stubble. In an expensive suit.

-Y-yes?

The man, apparently cursing and grimacing, reached for the doorbell again. I had to open it.

- Hello.- Pure formality. I also had to smile. But the smile froze on my lips after the unfriendly words of the unexpected guest.

- I'm not your messenger. And henceforth, I ask the concierge not to forget things.

From such blatant rudeness, I was taken aback.

He thrust a medium-sized box into my hands. Without another word, he unceremoniously turned around and headed towards the apartment opposite my door, precisely to the one where the bachelor neighbor lived.

I didn't have time to get angry and express my displeasure. And good. It is unreasonable to make a scandal with men who are twice your weight class. I raised my eyebrows in demonstrative indignation.

-Rude.

The fact that my words reached the addressee was evidenced by the stranger's momentary hitch and a noticeable straightening of the back. I did not wait for an answer. No one needed my gratitude, and I closed the door with a clear conscience. The box was lightweight. What could be in it? Mr. Dawson said something about the courier and the invitation to the club. The implication was that I would be handed an envelope.

I shrugged and walked into the living room. The bathroom could wait another five minutes. Taking a paper cutter, I cut the tape and opened the box. Inside was another flatter box and envelope. I started with the second box. It was not sealed. I took off the lid and whistled softly.

A little black dress with red lace at the hem.

What is this for? And from whom?

It got even better.

A lacy black mask lay under the dress. I'd seen similar ones in movies at masquerade balls. I picked it up carefully. Soft to the touch. I put it back and reached for the envelope.

The first thing that caught my eye was an intricate red monogram depicting the letter "A." Looking closely, I noticed a heavenly apple tree and the naked girl. Nearby was the inscription: "Ava." Slightly below "July 10th. 10 pm ". Where is the address?

My brows arched in surprise. Did they give me an invitation to a private club in such an extravagant way? Damn it, what kind of club is this? I chuckled. The most vulgar thoughts arose. What else can you think of when you match a little black dress, a lace mask, and an invitation with the symbol of the first temptation?

-What are you inviting me to, Mr. Dawson?

I still took a shower. I stood under warm streams and enjoyed it. Then I put the kettle on to boil and brought a laptop into the room and turned it on. The task prepared for me by the chief seemed more and more enjoyable.

Having prepared black coffee and wrapped myself in a robe, I settled down comfortably on the sofa and typed in a search engine: "Closed club. Ava. Reviews". There were no reviews. In general, there was no information about the club—only a few photos, most likely taken with a phone from a long distance. The quality was not so hot. The photo showed a large mansion hidden by high wrought-iron gates.

So this is the club? Intriguing!

The first cup of coffee was followed by a second. If my assumptions turn out to be correct, then my assignment will be intimate. Was I ready for this?

An image of four b**m letters appeared in my head. In view of the latest trend in literature and the popularization of such relationships, I would not be surprised. Rather, I was already surprised to be surprised.

Pushing my laptop aside, I glanced lazily out the window. What was I signing up for? The club is closed and anonymous since they sent me a mask. They must let in only the chosen ones. Why did they need to advertise themselves? It is clear I would not be able to specify the name of the club; it will remain mysterious of N. On the other hand, I should be least concerned about their reasons? I received an order for an article. I will write it.

But why was I so worried?

And the fact that I was worried was confirmed by the fact that I drained my second cup of coffee and looked at the kettle again. No, a third would be overkill.

Just think, b**m club. Several dozen people who love to be publicly flogged and have different parts of their bodies stuffed with intricate toys. I read somewhere that they even use ginger as an anal plug. When punished, as I understand it, slapping the bottox causes a burning sensation in the mucous membrane, as they say, whatever the people amuse themselves with.

I didn't know much about b**m. I would look stupid if I showed up at the club and I didn't know basic things. So I quickly went back to the laptop and typed: "b**m Terminology."

By morning I considered myself "enlightened." I knew that there were submissives and dominants, I could tell a paddle from a flogger and a whip. And about ginger, I was not mistaken. Stimulating the anus or v****a with peeled ginger was called figging.

I went to bed at five in the morning. After reading the basic terminology, I found a selection of books where the heroes practiced b**m. I was surprised by the variety. They wrote a lot. I tried to read several by English-speaking authors, but none of them worked. Either the translation was lame, or I was not ready for the Sub -Dom relationship.

A melodic ringtone woke me up. Grimacing and feeling that my head was splitting from a headache, continuing to be in the cozy arms of Morpheus, I groped for the phone and, without looking at the recipient of the caller, muttered dully:

- I'm listening.

- Get ready at eight. They will pick you up. - Then the hoarse male voice named a car brand with a number.

Before I could reply, the conversation was interrupted. Blinking in confusion several times, I collapsed onto the bed and covered my head with a pillow.

Naturally, the whole day passed in anticipation of the evening. I honestly tried to do household chores and not think about the upcoming "adventure." I distracted myself by putting things in order in the apartment, washed the crystal, cleaned the bathroom, ripped out the tiles in the hallway. Did not help. In the end, I called the beautician.

- Corina, are you free for the next few hours?

- What do you want to do, Abigail? - The beautician sang.

- Facial and massage.

I needed to relax my muscles.

- Wait a minute, see if the massage therapist is free today.

I went to Corina for more than five years and was one of the VIP clients. At one time, I even loaned money to her when she needed to buy new equipment. Therefore, without a twinge of conscience, I used her gratitude and could, without an appointment, call, and ask for procedures. Corina rarely refused me, only when there was no way to wedge me in somewhere. I loved to take care of myself, but recently cosmetic procedures have ceased to be regular, more spontaneous.

- Abigail, can you drive up right now? - Corina responded two minutes later.

- Of course.

- Then we wait.

There was no strength to stay at home. Honestly, I didn't understand myself. Why does the look come back over and over again to the invitation box, dress, and mask? They would have sent more underwear. By the way, I froze for a moment on the landing. Underwear! I have a black and red set. I bought it a year ago for crazy money in Milan, where Mason sent me shopping, but I never put it on. I was waiting for a special occasion.

I chuckled. Yeah, I'm going to do an editorial assignment, not have fun. What does underwear have to do with it? The idea arose to wear a black business suit. But my intuition told me they wouldn't let me into the club.

I started the ignition in the car and shook my head. The heat has such a depressing effect on me ... or the lack of s*x for six months.

Corina met me personally.

- It's so good that you! - The tall blonde smiled, and we kissed on both cheeks.- You look good, but you will be even better.

- That's why I came.

I stayed in the salon for three hours. I relaxed and enjoyed myself. They massaged my shoulders and back, and they gave me a facial to improve my complexion and eliminate the dark circles, an unfortunate result of not getting a good night's sleep.

- By the way, we have a stylist on our staff. Do you want to fix your hair?

I wanted to. The insidious Corina knew what to focus on.

I left the salon almost satisfied. Beautiful, young, carefree. What else is needed for the fullness of life?

The answer imposed itself on the thrill of sensation. I have become depressed in recent weeks. A measured, comfortable life made itself felt. Minimum hassle, maximum laziness. A shake would definitely not hurt me. I should consider the option of a short trip, like seven days. I could change the setting, perhaps even allow myself a holiday romance. Small but nice. With protected s*x. No commitment or continuation.

The relaxation made itself at home. I was no longer nervous and calmly waited for the appointed hour. At nine-thirty, I peacefully began to dress. I corrected my makeup and moisturized my body with cream. And yes, I still wore black and red underwear. Standing in front of the mirror in one set, I critically examined myself. My figure was proportionate to my medium height. The hips were a little heavy, but it doesn't matter. I would do aerobics in the morning since the time allowed. Yes, and a rounded tummy is outlined. There was work to do.

In general, I loved my body and perceived it the way Mother Nature gave me. She did not intend to change anything surgically, did not do liposuction, did not exhaust herself with diets. However, I was already over thirty. I would not be distraught if I had a big belly and wide hips as a result of several births. I wanted children. And I thought about it more and more often.

This time, I didn't let the thoughts of my ex-husband and the children we never had to take over. I had an adventure planned, so I should stick to the scheduled course. I went into the kitchen and made coffee, but I never touched it. It was time to wrap up with caffeine, and I drank it in unlimited quantities.

The dress fit perfectly. Precisely on the figure, even the hips seemed smaller in it, and the butt was rounder. It is immediately evident that it was not cheap.

I wonder if the owners of "Ava" spent money on each visitor, or was it just me that was given such an honor? Lacquered boats on a ten-centimeter stiletto complete the picture. When I reached for the mask to put it in my purse, my hand trembled. By the way, would they let me carry the recorder? It will be necessary to clarify.