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 As of now, unpublished.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.
The clue is 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 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 in my 32 years, I have 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.