Invitation to Seduction (Open Invitation, Book 1)
A lonely woman who’s dying for passion in her life. A seductive man who’s dying to give it to her.
Enclosed: your invitation to The Club, elegant, classy, sexy, every woman’s fantasy, every man’s desire…
Debbie Carter can’t even remember the last time a man felt passion for her. And when her best friend drags her to a bachelorette party at The Club, Debbie knows she’ll never find passion there either. Until a brief flirtation with a sexy stranger gives her far more than she bargained for, and soon she’s obsessed by the passion in his touch. Now she’ll have to choose between her safe, secure, yet intolerable existence and the man who could be the love of her life.
Stephen Knight enters The Club searching for the woman he’s already fallen in love through his online business dealings with her. Debbie is everything he’s ever dreamed of and seeing her in the flesh makes him burn with passion for her. Wanting far more from her than a few nights of seduction, can he make her believe in forever?
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This excerpt contains sexual material
Invitation to Seduction
© 2012 Jasmine Haynes
“It’s a veritable mansion.” Virginia, seated in the backseat, rolled down her window. For the outing, she’d worn a peach silk suit, the skirt covering her to her knees. Next to Stacy, and Debbie in her sexy borrowed skirt and blouse, Virginia looked like a maiden aunt. Yet this place had been her choice, though Debbie thought The Sex Club was way out of character for Virginia.
Set amid a grove of eucalyptus at the end of a long, sloping drive, with the moon providing the only illumination, the house looked like something out of a Vincent Price movie. A hulking behemoth over three stories high, with dormer windows at presumably the attic level. No lights filled any of the windows. No valet parking attendants swarmed about the wide stone porch. Not a single living soul moved; not even a curtain flickered.
“It’s so quiet,” Virginia said, “it’s almost creepy.”
Stacy huffed. “It’s private. And exclusive. What did you expect, floodlights and a marching band?”
Debbie didn’t find the mansion creepy. Excitement rippled through her at the sight of it. The Sex Club’s mystery made her blood pump faster and her nipples harden. Moisture gathered between her thighs. The darkness beckoned, promised seduction, secrecy, and fantasy fulfillment. Just fantasy, she didn’t have to do anything. Observe, pretend for a little while. Jaywalk over to the wild side for a night. The clingy black top and skirt Stacy had loaned her, the high heels and stockings with garter belt, even the truly outrageous shade of vermillion Stacy had painted on her nails, all fit her blossoming mood. She’d walked out of her home with the promise to herself that something spectacular was going to happen. Something that would make her feel alive. This was a night for magic and a house that invited it.
Some gorgeous man was going to seduce her with nothing more than a look. Of course, she wouldn’t act on it, but she would believe, for one night, that she was gorgeous, sexy, and desirable. She wanted to add to her store of fantasies that could be put to good use when she was going mad for an orgasm.
Stacy maneuvered the car into the parking garage—which turned out to be under the house—pulled into a spot, and turned off the engine. Porsches, Jags, and BMWs dominated in the underground lot. Sex appeared to be for the rich, at least here.
“Virginia, the invitations, please.” Stacy waggled her fingers, her French manicure gleaming in the shaft of overhead light falling through the windshield.
Virginia pulled the stack of cream-colored envelopes from her purse. Stacy took them with a flourish. “Now, ladies, here are the rules. It’s invitation only the first time. After that, women are allowed in without it. Or sometimes a woman might be sent an invitation by a very special someone.” She arched a brow and smiled, which made Debbie think Stacy’d been honored with a special invite at one time or another.
“But men,” Stacy went on, “must always have an invitation or they don’t get in. That excludes horn-dog frat boys who don’t know a clitoris from a hole in the wall and aren’t willing to spend the time to learn. We don’t use real names. We do use condoms. They have bowls of them all over the place. Like candy dishes. We say no to whatever we don’t want, and we say yes to whatever we do. If somebody bugs you, you tell an attendant, and the offending party bites the dust. Got it?”
With all the talk about clitorises and condoms, Debbie glanced back at Virginia. She was getting married tomorrow in Las Vegas. Was she out simply for a night of titillation before settling down? Or did she plan on something more? Titillation, Debbie decided, or Virginia would have chosen a more provocative outfit than the peach suit.
Stacy flipped through the gold-labeled envelopes in her lap. “This one’s mine. Serena.” She put a hand to her sequined chest. “I look like a Serena, don’t you think?” Serena could do anything she wanted, she had that kind of feminine power.
She handed the second invitation to Virginia. “Regina.”
Virginia wrinkled her nose. “I was going to say something about that earlier. It reminds me a little of vagina.”
Stacy smiled. “Depends on how you say it when you introduce yourself, darling.” Then she got to the last envelope.
Debbie held her breath.
“Desiree.”
Debbie held the invitation lightly in her fingers, the name embossed in gold. Desiree. Desire. “I like it,” she whispered. “So this is the name we give if anyone asks?”
Stacy gave her the once-over. “Everyone’s going to ask. No real names, remember.”
Debbie traced the raised lettering. “This place must cost a fortune to get into. You haven’t asked for any money.”
“The first time, you’re a guest.” Stacy held her gaze.
“The first time?”
“Almost everyone comes back.”
Debbie felt the challenge in the statement. For a moment, she got the distinct impression that Stacy knew her entire marital history, even the months and years between lovemaking. She’d given herself away somehow, though she couldn’t remember even hinting at her problem.
Stacy turned in her seat. “We can stick together or we split off. But we’ll meet back in the lobby at midnight.” She checked her thin gold watch. “That gives us three hours.”
Virginia just smiled, a secretive smile Debbie could swear she’d never seen before.
Stacy yanked on her door handle. “Well, ladies, let’s see where the night leads us.”
