By Luce Sutherland
My name is Brynne Larimore. I’m an aspiring erotic novelist. As of now, unpublished.
My day job, copy editor at the London Mirror, is boring as f#@k. My secret life is much more exciting. I recently landed a job at Club Dominus. “Landed” really doesn’t do justice to what I had to do to get this job. I’ll tell you about that later.
There’s a clue in the club’s Latin name, if you want to google it… It’s one of those clubs that you cannot be a member of unless you are very wealthy, and you have a dick.
It turns out the owner is very wealthy, and he is a dick. The man is hella-off-the-charts handsome. Words fail me on how delicious he is. Like if you saw him on the street, you might walk in front of a bus, and you would die happy because his face was the last thing you saw. He is a distraction I don’t need. If you were to ask my BFF, Jared, he would argue, Gage MacLeod is exactly what I need: tall, dark, and dominant with a capital D.
You see, my debut erotic novel was recently rejected. Sadly, so was I. My ex-boyfriend, the vanilla douchebag, said I was sick and twisted. So, I traded him in for a Mr. Boss, who doesn’t talk back – and encouraged all my friends to buy a rechargeable Mr. in their favorite color. ;-o
Back to the heart of this tale. To be considered for a new line of juicy fiction, I must turn up the heat. The experiences of my book’s heroine are too safe. It pains me to admit this, but I have, up to this point, (I’m 32) played it safe, too. With the exception of the aforementioned douche, I’ve only slept with boys I could walk away from. Usually after three dates.
That is where the club comes in. If I play my cards right and drop a drink in someone’s lap, I might get a breath-taking spanking.
I look forward to seeing what all the fuss is about.