Carnal Caresses

Bree Sullivan drove through the wrought iron gates with the five and the S entwined in the centre and headed up the long curving driveway. The gates swished closed behind her, locking with a clang that while soft was definite and unmistakable in its message. She was in. Getting out would depend on her host. She stopped in front of wide stone steps at the top of the driveway’s arc, where a tall, good-looking young man waited for her in precisely tailored black slacks and white silk shirt. Was it him? Was he the one? But when he opened her door and stood politely aside for her to exit, she realised he was just the valet, sent to tuck away her car somewhere.

“Good evening, Miss Sullivan.” His voice was quiet and well-modulated. “Jennifer is waiting for you at the door.”

As she mounted the wide steps, hearing her car being driven away, the broad, heavy oak door opened and an exotic-looking woman in a long strapless gown stood facing her.

“Welcome, Miss Sullivan.” She had a slight accent that Bree couldn’t place. “Welcome to the House of Five Senses. We hope you enjoy your evening.”

Yeah, so do I.

She stood in a high-ceilinged reception area with polished wood flooring and an Oriental rug that she was sure cost more than her condo. Another woman stood next to Jennifer, holding a tray with several squares of material. Bree took in a breath to centre herself. She’d done it on the spur of the moment, caught up in the glamour, excitement and adrenaline of the charity auction. And of course egged on by her closest friend, Cilla the wild child.

“Oh, do it Bree,” she’d giggled, sipping on yet another glass of champagne. “A night at the famous, erotic House of Five Senses. My God, they’re so private no one but the members ever know what goes on. All we have is rumour.” She winked. “And lots of delicious gossip. I get wet just imagining the things they do.”

”I’m sure you all let your imaginations run away with you,” Bree giggled, “just like you always do.”

“Oh, no.” Cilla leaned closer. “I have it on good authority—and I don’t dare say whose—that absolutely everything and anything goes. You pick which of the senses you want to focus on and everything is geared towards that. There are no limits.”

“I don’t know,” Bree waffled.

Cilla jabbed her with her elbow when the next bid went up. “Put some spice in your life, kiddo. Have a once in a lifetime sexual experience. Things you’d never decide to do on your own. Go on, wave your little bidding paddle.” And so she’d done it.

There were only five invitations available for bid, one for each of the five senses. Bree had chosen Touch when she’d filled out her card and handed over her check. When they’d handed her the envelope and her list of instructions, she had be told to read everything carefully, but she would not be allowed to ask any questions. Simply appear in the manner required and the rest would be up to the owners of the House.

For a week, she’d vacillated between erotic anticipation and nervous anxiety. The instructions along with the accompanying kit had been enough to make her rethink her impulsive decision.