Madison Layle

The Pirate Masters

Welcome to the Pleasure Club

Dear Ms. Hawthorne,

We’re pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club.

As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you receive your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match.

We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy.

When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We’re here for your pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you and your Pleasure Master can be reached.

Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club.

Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions.

Yours truly,

The Pleasure Club Management

Ms. Hawthorne,

Your Pleasure Night will begin Friday the 2nd, 6:00 PM on pier 21 located at 11 Harbor Ridge Drive.

Your safe word is Mayday.

Sincerely,

The Pleasure Guardians

Jared tied the dark burgundy silk bandana around his head in a tight knot, tucking in the back corners so it covered most of his short, military-style hair.

The sound of footsteps behind him had him turning around to see Lance enter the main cabin of the vessel Jared called home. Lance was a land-lover, but Jared adored the ocean-polar opposites who had somehow discovered a few common interests that bound them together in friendship.

They’d met at the gym where Lance was a fitness instructor and Jared went regularly to lift weights. Their friendship expanded when they learned they shared a similar fondness for certain sexual fetishes. They both loved to share and dominate women, and they were damn good at it.

Best of all, he’d discovered The Pleasure Club, which helped him explore his own desires while fulfilling others’ sexual fantasies, too. It beat trolling the nightclubs for potential dates who might or might not be into kinky foreplay. And many fetish clubs were too sleazy for his tastes.

He didn’t work for TPC; it didn’t work that way. He enjoyed sex, but a gigolo, he wasn’t. As a club member, he’d paid his dues and reaped the benefits like Lance and all of the others.

Role playing was what thrilled him-becoming the kind of person another needed to find that heightened release, that touch of nirvana. He smiled. Yeah, he enjoyed every minute of his membership and looked forward to the weekends whenever he had a fantasy to fulfill, especially one like tonight, one that could involve the sea.

Because they’d signed up together and indicated an interest in shared experiences, he often joined with Lance to enact ménage a trois fantasies whenever TPC called on them to do so. One of his favorites so far was a sweet little sub they’d disciplined, tested, and thoroughly fucked in the dungeon of the castle-like mansion over on Mangrove Lane. He’d had a few other Pleasure Nights take place there, so he suspected someone high up in the club owned the place.

Tonight was different, though, and that difference excited him. After one final glance, he pocketed the instructions TPC had sent him. Tonight just might best all of his other fantasies combined.

Lance was dressed in attire similar to his own-black cargo pants, a sleeveless black muscle shirt, and dark combat boots. His smile had one of Jared’s eyebrows rising.

“What?”

Lance crossed his arms. “Add a little eye liner and a gold tooth or two, and you could go as Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Real funny, but I don’t do beaded braids.”

Lance shrugged. “Suit yourself. You gonna wear an eye patch?”

He shook his head. “I think we can dispense with the clichés.”

“Damn. I was hoping for at least a parrot. Think of all the naughty-ass words we could teach it tonight.”

Jared laughed. “That would be funny,” he admitted while checking his pistol one last time before putting it away in its holster. “You armed and ready?”

“Yep, but we’re not going to take them here, are we?”

He glanced at his watch. “No, we still have plenty of time. The other boat’s already in place?”

“Yeah. One pier over. I saw it dock just before I came down.”

“Okay.” Their target for the evening should arrive within the hour. “I want to be topside to watch them cast off.”

“Special night, huh?” the cab driver asked as he looked at her in the rearview mirror, his dark chocolate eyes friendly and curious.

Would tonight be special? She hoped so. She just wished she knew which fantasy her Pleasure Masters had chosen to fulfill! She fidgeted with the wrist strap of her silk clutch handbag in which she’d put her latest correspondence from The Pleasure Club.

She gave the driver a nod but couldn’t drum up enough creativity to make up an explanation he’d believe. She couldn’t tell him she was going to meet a total stranger for a night of fulfilled fantasies and sexual pleasure. He might want to tag along.

A nervous giggle escaped, so she bit her lip to settle her jitters. Maybe she shouldn’t have listed so many options when she filled out the club’s paperwork. She glanced down and busied herself by straightening the skirt of her short evening dress. Her clutch with cell phone, money, and lipstick, lay next to her on the seat.

Had she chosen wrong? Was she overdressed? Maybe I should’ve worn something casual. A bikini and wrap… The ideas darted through her mind until they arrived at the address she’d given.

The cab pulled to a stop, and the driver twisted to look at her. “Here we are. That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.”

After paying the cabbie, she got out, giving him a wave when he wished her well and drove away.

“All dressed up and nowhere to go,” she muttered, looking around at all of the boats docked at the pier. Pulling out her letter from TPC, she reread the address. It didn’t give the name of a boat or pier number.

Now what do I do?

“You’re as gorgeous as ever, Dana.”

She looked up to see a total stranger approach with a welcoming smile on his face. Her real name was Diana Hawthorne, but she’d given TPC instructions to use Dana for all liaisons-a childhood nickname she’d set aside for the formalities of big business and the corporate ladder.

The man was attractive and well dressed in pristine white slacks and short-sleeved shirt, the top two buttons left undone. Laceless deck shoes covered his bare feet, and a gold ring with a blood-red ruby sparkled on his right ring finger. Clean-shaven, he sported a thick head of dark hair with enough length to lend a rakish quality and a hint of salt at the temples to give him a distinguished appearance.