Anne’s Courage ~ The Le Club Series

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On Saturday morning, Anne Sutton looked up from her desk in the executive offices of Le Club Laurel Oak—Ocala, and there, leaning against the doorjamb of her office, was the most stunning man she had ever seen. She looked him up and down more boldly than she meant to before her gaze settled on his face. She felt herself swirling into the depths of his brandy colored eyes. Was this what they meant by “swooning”?

Jamie Devereau’s dark, wavy hair, much shorter than that of his brother, Justin, was windblown, making him all the more attractive. His worn jeans fit his long legs and great butt like comfortable skin. He wore a black T-shirt, motorcycle boots, and aviator sunglasses pushed up on his head. A day’s scruff of beard darkening his face emphasized the strong bone structure and added tantalizingly to the bad-boy image. The resemblance between the brothers, however, was amazing. The men could have been twins although two years separated them in age. The Devereau gene pool is apparently very strong. She could see the gleaming black custom-made Ducati motorcycle that had been shipped to the club from New Orleans parked in front of the house, his helmet balanced on the seat.

“Mornin’, cher. I’m Justin’s brother, Jamie. I’ve come in for his wedding tomorrow, and I’m going to be using the Ming Suite while he’s on his honeymoon in France,” he said in a New Orleans drawl that oozed charm.

“Yes, I know.  I’m Anne Sutton, the manager of Le Club.  I’ve had the suite prepared.” She stood to shake his hand. Anne was tall and she liked her generous curves. Today she wore her shoulder-length light blonde hair in a sophisticated chignon which she hoped would emphasize her sparkling baby blue eyes. Her black silk Armani suit fit her like a glove, and she knew her black Christian Louboutin pumps with the bright red soles highlighted her long legs.

“So, Ms. Sutton,” Jamie said with a wicked bad boy grin, “I’d like to peel you out of that suit, bend you over this desk, and plant my cock between the cheeks of your really fine ass. The shoes can stay.” He added the last part as an afterthought. Apparently Mr. Devereau preferred the direct approach, for shock value if nothing else.

“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Devereau,” she responded tartly. “That is totally inappropriate.” Oh God, I think I just creamed my panties.

“I can be very inappropriate,” he responded.

I bet you can.

“Are you afraid to explore your wild side, Ms. Sutton?”

“No, Mr. Devereau, I’m not afraid. I’m just not so inclined,” she said, trying to maintain a stern demeanor, although she secretly wanted to grin. He really is a “bad boy”! He could be really irresistible.

“Call me Jamie…or Master. Want to bet? I’m going to make it a priority to change your mind,” he said quite seriously but with a devilish gleam in his eye. “Just so you know. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”


He had to admit, this woman really got his juices churning. She was gorgeous, but that wasn’t really it. There was something about her, maybe a certain vulnerability hidden by her glossy surface. She was just the type of woman he liked, tall and cool on the surface, but with unplumbed depths hiding a molten hot center. He was just the man to help the volcano simmering inside blow!  Justin had mentioned in one of their phone calls that the manager of the club was very attractive and apparently unattached, which had immediately peaked his interest.

You’re definitely on my wish list, cher.   He grinned to himself as he strode from her office, down the front stairs of the mansion, and out to the parked bike. I want to get her out of that suit really bad! He threw his long leg over the motorcycle and tore out of the front gate, the Ducati growling in the quiet morning on Fort King Street.

As he looked back over his shoulder at the enormous white mansion, he couldn’t help comparing it to the darker, more dangerous atmosphere of the club in New Orleans, of which he was now a member.

Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala was a very private BDSM club, catered to only ten members. The acronym “BDSM” stood for Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadomasochism, an alternative Lifestyle as varied as the people who practiced it. It spanned practices including spanking to whipping, blindfolding to bondage, role-playing, dominance and submission, all in varying degrees and extremes. The purpose was to increase sexual tension and pleasure for all participants.

I wonder if Ms. Sutton is into BDSM.  It will be interesting to see her around the club since I’m going to be here for a while and find out.  Jamie found the ambiance of the Ocala club much lighter and less intense than that of the New Orleans club.  It was a new facility compared to Beaudelaire which had been on Chartres Street for probably over fifty years.

The Laurel Oak Estate was perfect for a club patterned after, and loosely affiliated with, the New Orleans facility of which Jamie was currently a member. He had taken over his brother’s membership position when Justin had moved to Ocala. The club was located just at the edge of the historic Ocala residential-business district. Each member had contributed a sizable initial investment and paid hefty annual membership fees which were calculated to cover the substantial operating expenses and generous salaries of the many employees. Some of the employees participated in the activities at the club, and some did not, but all were extremely loyal and discreet due to the excellent working conditions and high salaries paid at the club—not to mention the confidentiality agreements signed by one and all.





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