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Riding His Virgin
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No one refuses me.
On a business trip to New York City, I end up at Club Lush.
Is she brave enough to take a plane ride with me?
Riding His Virgin is a steamy standalone novella. Jamie Knight promises to always bring you a happy ever after filled with plenty of heat. And never any cheating of cliffhangers!
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Well, now I’ve seen everything!
It’s one of my best friend’s twenty-first birthday and we are in a place like nothing I have ever seen before. We started the night at your regular, old, run-of-the-mill dance club, and we’ve ended up at a place called Club Lush. And when I say we, I mean all of us NYU college girls, my best friends — Karen, Samantha, Becky, Britney and Melissa, who is the birthday girl. We came over to this side of town originally for a night of fun and dancing. Something special and away from the usual hangout spots. It is Melissa’s twenty-first birthday, after all and you only turn twenty-one once.
But still, I can’t believe we’ve ended up in a place like this. Club Lush is a sex club, by the looks of it. People are walking by in hoods and masks, on collars and leashes; people are being strapped to the walls and fucked. Some whipped and toyed with using a variety of gadgets I’ve never even seen before, and right in front of us. In front of the dining and drinking tables, that some hostess has led us to.
When we all piled in the car to come dance this evening, this kind of place didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t even know this sex club was here, until Britney forced us to chase down this fancy dressed couple like the white rabbit down the rabbit hole in Alice In Wonderland! Britney, who is a fashion design student, can never let a good outfit go by without asking the owner where they bought it.
I certainly do feel like Alice now. Way out of place. A little concerned and scared, but also curious and intrigued. Gently, I take my seat, and encourage Melissa, the timid one of us, to do the same.
She wasn’t doing well at the other club we were at. She was worse than a fly on the wall. She was wallpaper! The way she tried to blend in, not talk to anybody, it was sad. It’s also not unexpected, since she’s always been on the shy side, but in a place like this she must be terrified.
I squeeze Melissa’s hand encouragingly, kindly. My thick, colorful bracelets clack together softly as I do. One has moons and stars on it, while the other is filled with unicorns, my favorite animal.
“It’s okay,” I tell Melissa, hoping she isn’t going to completely shut down, “I’m sure this will be fun. Interesting and different for sure.” I watch the couples moving and dancing around the floor. People are pairing off and pairing up, like some strange mystical dance. “But twenty-first birthdays are perfect for new experiences, right?”
Melissa ignores me and looks around with wide eyes.
I’m naturally energetic. I’m naturally friendly and outgoing, so I don’t have to work at bringing cheer to others. I can comfort to people like Melissa who have very small comfort zones, so that’s what I’m hoping to do for here. Give her a lifeline, so she can do more than just “wait for it to be over” the entire night.
But it seems like she has already drifted into herself. When I turn to her to give her a reassuring smile, and ask her what she thinks of all this, I see she’s distracted. She’s not paying attention to the fact that I’ve spoken to her, or that there is anyone else at our table with us.
“Really?” I murmur under my breath.
Part of me wants to get Melissa’s attention and get her to have some kind of conversation with me before she completely locks up, but I decide against it.
A shapely woman in a nineteen forties-bombshell gown approaches our table. By her platinum blond curls, her impeccable and striking makeup, she could easily pass for Marilyn Monroe’s twin sister. And that aura…as she’s sashaying toward us, her movements scream authority and grace. All of us, the girls at the table, sit at attention.
Me? I start to feel a little underdressed. I mean, I did the moment we walked in here, but as this woman nears our table and smiles at us, I feel like my simple black-and-white zebra print dress and matching heels isn’t enough.
I try nudging Melissa as the woman begins to introduce herself as Lady White, the owner and operator of this establishment. It’s no use, though. Melissa is stuck in her own little world and seems to be going in deeper as Lady White continues.
“Please do be aware,” the owner tells us. Her long, dark eyelashes size us all up. “If you’re going to stay, ladies, if you desire to be our guests, you will need to participate in tonight’s festivities. Not just giggle or gawk.”
At this, Melissa practically bolts up out of her chair at the table, and excuses herself. She whispers to me something about the bathroom, something about her nerves, and I don’t question it.