“That’s all I heard, Steele. No more details, just that she thinks this is a ‘men’s club.’ She was talking to Paula Greenley, the editor of Ocala Country Life, you know, the local who’s-who and see-and-be-seen glossy rag,” Trent Redding, one of the ten owners of Le Club Laurel Oak, told his partner, Jason Steele. “Oh, by the way, she thinks you’re a hunk and wondered why you never asked her out.” He chuckled. “Said she’d be willing to stand on her head…”
Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala, although not just for men, was a very private BDSM club catering to just ten members, two of whom were currently having a drink in the library of the three-story Victorian this Saturday afternoon. Although the property was held in a limited-liability partnership, Jason Steele, an attorney, had been the front man putting the project together, and he had worked closely with Calleigh Roundtree, the project architect. Although there had been definite sparks between the two during the prolonged drafting of the plans and specs, Jason had been cautious in carrying the relationship forward, the privacy of the club being his main concern. He just was not sure if Ms. Roundtree would be into spanking and kinky sex.
“Yeah, well…I walked around with a hard-on the whole time we were working together. It’s damn difficult to concentrate on electrical wiring, outlets, and water lines when the architect has a gorgeous J.Lo ass,” he groused. “So, what part of ‘confidential’ doesn’t she understand?” Steele frowned, one slashing, dark eyebrow raised over smoky gray eyes. Jason was six two, with dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, and many women had told him they liked his one quirky dimple, his killer body, and his broad shoulders tapering into long, powerful legs. “She wants to see the finished project, does she? That can be arranged. I wonder how she would like being a submissive.”
“Just be careful, Steele. We don’t know the lady’s personal preferences,” Trent returned.
“Oh, I’ll explain her ‘position’ to her very carefully, and I won’t forget to get the release and another confidentiality agreement signed,” Steele replied with a cocky grin. “Little Miss Roundtree’s gorgeous ass is mine.” He had been waiting for an opportunity to further his relationship with Calleigh to present itself, and now that it had, he wasn’t going to waste it.
Jason Steele had grown up the son of a successful thoroughbred breeder on a farm in Ocala, gone to college at Harvard, and graduated magna cum laude. He earned a law degree from Harvard Law School, during which time he also edited the Law Review. The following years spent in Boston as an associate at a major national law firm had put a hard gloss on the Southern boy he had been. While his family had given him the best start possible and a fabulous education, he had made the most of it himself. He returned to Ocala to open his own firm. His very successful corporate- and business-law practice had given him the ability to move in the highest echelons of local society and business with the possibility of a political career in the future.
Jason and Trent Redding had met in college and remained close friends while Trent completed medical school at Harvard, as well as his surgical residency at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital. He had also come home to central Florida to open a medical practice in Gainesville, which was now thriving, and to teach at the University of Florida. He was one of the top heart surgeons in the state, if not the entire southeast.
When the run-down Laurel Oak Estate had come on the market, Jason and Trent had put together a consortium of like-minded BDSM aficionados of the Lifestyle to purchase the estate and renovate the house and grounds for Le Club Laurel Oak–Ocala. It had been a pipe dream of theirs since they had been introduced to the Lifestyle by a college friend from New Orleans whose father was a founding member of Le Club Beaudelair–New Orleans, located in the French Quarter. Neither of them had ever been into the kinkier aspects of the Lifestyle but found BDSM added a spice missing from more vanilla sexual experiences.
The property was perfect for a club patterned after and loosely affiliated with the New Orleans facility, as it was just at the edge of the historic Ocala residential and business district and required no complicated rezoning or permitting for their intended usage.
“What are you plotting, Jason? I’ve seen that look before.”
“A weekend with Miss Roundtree is all,” Steele answered innocently. A weekend with Calleigh sounded good, very good. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her since she had finished the architectural work. The thought of seeing her again and being close to that sumptuous derriere of hers had sent a jolt like an electric charge through him. Suddenly, he found himself in very good spirits. He thought of the collar he had bought. Maybe I’ll be able to put it to good use after all. The picture in his mind’s eye of her standing on her head made him chuckle. Trent just shook his head.