The lobby was busy, the Saturday night crowd arriving in a steady flow. As usual, the chords of music rose and fell each time someone entered the main room of The Den. There was a sensual sultriness to the air that conflicted with the cool breeze wafting in from the entrance. “Was the ride here okay?” Marcus asked, settling his hand on her bare shoulder. “Yes. Thank you.” He took a moment to admire her outfit, the appreciation shining in his eyes. She’d worn a cherry red pleather bustier that hugged her ribcage and pushed her breasts to their maximum advantage. The black skirt was barely crotch length, and he smiled when his gaze held there. He leaned down and nipped her neck. “Nice skirt, pussy.” The one crude word dropped her right into her submissive role. No one would dare to call her that outside of here. But Marcus’s use of it at the club had turned into a private endearment that made her sex clench every time he used it.
