Cowboy Casanova - Lorelei James [6]
Ainsley withheld her questions, hard as that was.
“Murphy had been a Dom for a decade at that point. He’d never considered taking on a sub fulltime until he met me. His brother Rafe is a counselor. After my meltdown I spent time talking to Rafe alone, and with Murphy. While all this soul searching stuff was going on, I fell in love with Murphy.” She sniffled. “Totally, completely in love with the gentle giant who had such a code of honor that he didn’t touch me at all.”
“How long did that last?”
“Six months. Murphy took me to clubs where I could see other kinds of play. Play where a Dom administering pain was a preface for sexual pleasure for the sub. Without getting into too many details, it made me hot. And wet. Two things I’d never felt when the whip scored my skin. When he saw my reaction, he knew I was ready to experience the difference with him. It changed my life. So, the long answer to your question is no, Murphy would never abuse me. He gets me. He loves me. We give each other exactly what the other needs.” She sniffled again. “You can open your eyes now.”
Ainsley looked at Layla.
“Be honest with me. Why are you interested in experiencing any of this? I see a look of revulsion in your eyes, Ainsley.”
“It’s more confusion than revulsion. I don’t know why some of this appeals to me so much.” She glanced away with embarrassment.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Layla asked.
Yes. “I’m relieved your story has a happy ending. I never understood why you just quit your job so abruptly.”
“Maybe it seemed fast on the outside, but things hadn’t been going well at the bank for awhile. I was more than ready to walk away and start my life over with Murphy. Our relationship might not be the norm, but it works for us. What is normal? And who the hell has the right to define what it is anyway?” Layla smiled slyly. “And yes, I am happy. And I want you to be happy too.”
Ainsley doubted she’d ever find happiness in a man whipping her on a regular basis.
Judgmental much? You’re just scared of the unknown.
“Let’s go. You’re driving.” At the door, Layla said, “Oops, I forgot one thing.” She handed Ainsley a gold wristband. “Since you’re still on the fence about what you want, at least try and act like you deserve to wear this tonight.”
Ainsley squinted through the windshield at the building across the street. Rawhide Bar was burned into a gigantic wooden sign and outlined with rope-like neon tubing. “This is just a bar.”
Layla sighed. “What were you expecting?”
“A buzzing neon sign with an arrow pointing the way to a dark and dirty sex club, hidden in an alley. Scantily clad, red-lipped women smoking cigarettes and eyeing their next sexual conquest while the greasy bouncer swigged from a flask.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but the Rawhide Bar has been here for over a hundred years.”
“It has? How’s that possible?”
“The Rawhide is two separate entities. The club portion harkens back to the days when a brothel operated out of the hotel side. Of course, they couldn’t call it a brothel, so they called it a gentleman’s club. The owners charged a membership fee, and the city provided the Rawhide with its own charter that’s still in effect today.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Cody and Trace’s great-grandfather was the founder. So when the boys of this generation decided to bring back the club aspect in a discreet and exclusive manner, it was all perfectly legal because the charter never expires as long as an original family member owns the building and