Three - Daddy Finds Out
Copyright© 2026 by Pete Fox
Chapter 4
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - An Iowa farmer finds out about his three daughter's secret lives, one at a time, as he’s given clues by a mysterious puppet master. He’s not perfect in how he responds. At the same time a historic tornado outbreak ravages the region. A kinky redemption story at its heart, takes place in 2024, a father's love for his outwardly normal family reveals darker depths. Historical erotica in six parts.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction Farming Historical Sharing Incest BDSM Voyeurism
“This was a big storm, and he might as well enjoy it. It was ruining everything, but you might as well enjoy it.”—Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls
Iowa - Adair County – May 6th (Monday)
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his reading glasses. He’d been up since the crack of dawn doing farm chores, with his butt in his fancy office chair for the last hour. Reading the computer screen, he tried to focus on the Excel spreadsheet full of figures. The flat version of what his daughter Tatum had shown him on her MacBook a week ago in a snappy presentation. As a fourth-generation farmer, his family had a history of booms and busts. They had experienced it all. The farm was doing okay financially but could be better, he thought. At 1,100 acres, they were a large farm, bigger than the average few hundred acre family-owned operation in Iowa.
The Weather Channel’s morning weather roundup was playing on the small TV mounted high in the corner of Tom’s office, out of the way. The blonde meteorologist gestured across a radar loop; the screen filled with a red and yellow smear over the southern Plains.
” ... severe weather outbreak continuing through the evening hours across parts of Oklahoma, northern Texas, and into Arkansas. We’re tracking multiple supercells with the potential for large hail, damaging winds, and isolated tornadoes. Flash flooding remains a major concern in already saturated areas, especially along the Red River basin...”
Tom took a sip of lukewarm coffee. Good, not in Iowa. The weather was not one of his problems today. He used the remote to flip to Fox News for the headlines. Not much better, Israel vs. Hamas in Gaza, and Trump’s salacious hush money trial in New York. Neither affected his life. He was still tired from the weekend, and he needed quiet time to think. He should drive out and see Juan. See how Dewayne was doing on the planter. He wanted to get Amelia in the tractor this week.
He heard a change of tones on the fire radio on his desk and turned up the volume.
“Adair County Station 1, Engine-33 and Pumper-32, silo fire ... Petersen farm ... county road...”
Tom wrote the address down in the notebook he kept next to the radio. His iPhone beeped. Yup, on the county fire app, there were more details, a request for volunteer firefighters to respond.
“County, Adair Chief 1-Adam, responding from the station with two trucks.” The Chief radioed.
“Daddy, did I hear a fire call?” Amelia stuck her head in; she wore blue jeans and one of his old t-shirts. She’d been working in the kitchen, baking. Debbie used to handle such things.
He was up and moving, texting on the app that he was responding from home. Tom grabbed the radio, heading for the kitchen. Petersen’s farm is five miles up the country road. Silo fires, unfortunately, were common. The grain in the Marshalls’ silo had caught fire back in 2018.
“You want to ride along?” he said. “Better hurry.” He pulled shirts and a go-bag from a downstairs closet.
Father and daughter changed into blue Adair County Fire & Rescue t-shirts, hers several sizes too large. Tom smiled as Amelia ran to her room for a bra. Dani came into the kitchen, sending them off with kisses, and promised to keep an eye on the cornbread in the oven.
In five minutes, they were speeding north, the flashing blue light stuck on the F250’s roof this time with a magnet. He didn’t blow stop signs. That’s how you got killed. But he sped north until he saw the black smoke and flashing emergency lights converging on the farm. His middle daughter grinned next to him, her iPhone out, shooting a video.
He loved this part of the job, the rush, the teamwork, and other volunteers rushing to help a neighbor. The big red pumper trucks’ sirens wailing, lights flashing on their way from Adair. He’d slip into his yellow and black turnout gear as soon as he arrived and join the other volunteers, encouraged that Amelia was interested. The firefight at the silo would be more complex than simply shooting water into the silo.
Invitation II
The mangy no-good squirrel that lived rent-free in the back of Tom’s brain was taking care of him once again. Or maybe it was the fact that he sat at the kitchen table for dinner instead of eating on the couch or in front of his computer.
“This is good cornbread,” he said to Amelia, his mouth full, starving after several hours of firefighting at the Petersen’s farm.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said from across the table. “Dani made the casserole,” she added. The three of them were eating a tasty ground beef cowboy casserole. His hair, even after Amelia washed it for him, smelled faintly of burnt corn, so did hers. His daughter’s soapy breasts in his face, a kinky memory.
Dani and Amelia were quiet, scrolling through social media on their phones. The firefight had taken most of the day. The silo fire was controlled by early afternoon, another crew reliving them for cleanup and monitoring. Tom eyed the few pieces of mail on the table. Squirrel said look at the nice envelope. You’re expecting something. Mail normally meant bills and junk.
He set down his fork and examined the plain white envelope addressed to Thomas S. Marshall IV. He slit the envelope open with his butter knife as Amelia cocked an eyebrow. He slid out the heavy, fancy-looking manila-colored card. The first thing that caught his eye was the note scrawled in metallic ink.
You are invited. Ask for Lilly. Saturdays.
The House of Dreams
69 Old Dominion Estates
West Des Moines, IA 50265
A fancy-looking invite. Hmm. No longer shocked. What was his oldest girl up to? And what was The House of Dreams? No doubt in his mind, this was from the “puppet master” and was about Riley’s secret.
“Dad,” Amelia said, reaching out her hand. He gave the card to her. She was his Watson, his new partner in this game.
He ate more casserole, watching the local news playing over on the living room TV. Damn, he needed to fix things with Debbie. It hit him. He was the leader of the family. Iowa politics on the news. He listened to another self-help podcast, driving back from Omaha on Sunday, while the girls slept. Tom needed to go see Debbie.
Tatum, he’d let things with her play out. No confrontation yet. From her own words, she was unhappy with the sorority’s service requirements, and the semester would end soon. He worried that revealing his identity now could cause more harm, even though she expressed daddy-daughter fantasies to his FarmerDaddy88 persona.
His thoughts were interrupted. “Dad, this place is a BDSM club!” Amelia said, holding up her phone, showing him the screen. Dani grinned at her elbow. “This FetLife web page says so. I found one post from last year mentioning this place as an exclusive swinger and BDSM club,” Amelia said, with that familiar naughty grin.
Tom didn’t say anything. The implication was explosive.
“Daddy...,” Danille was talking, reading from her own phone. “This is an advertisement seeking girls of a certain caliber to waitress and host at an exclusive social club in Des Moines. It has the same webpage as on the back of this card,” his new fourth daughter said.
He took a sip of Busch Light. “Well, Dani, we might need to use your ID to apply for one of those jobs,” he said. Amelia couldn’t use her full name; he knew that.
Saturday at a BDSM club. He could do that.
“Amelia, in the morning you’re riding along with Dewayne in the John Deere,” he said. “You can take the older tractor from dad’s barn out on your own under Juan’s supervision after that.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Amelia smiled, her blue eyes gleaming at him from across the table. Neither girl was wearing a bra under their sweatshirts.
Turning to the busty brunette, “Dani, tomorrow you and I will talk about getting you on payroll,” he said. She needed health insurance for the baby.
“Yes, Daddy,” Danielle said, smiling. She’d woken him this morning just before dawn with the warmest feeling on his cock, her mouth. Juan had been waiting for him with the migrant workers as he hustled outside late, but not sorry.
“I’m going to ask your mom to lunch this week. Any thoughts?” he said, directing his question at Amelia.
“Yes, Daddy, I do. It’s about time you did,” Amelia said, then went back to scrolling on her phone.
Served him right. He’d been negligent.
Wednesday
Debbie
“Roll over,” Tom’s wife said, her tone professional.
His face through the pillow ring, he’d been in a daze as her hands worked on his tired, sore body. From his shoulders, down his spine, over his glutes and legs, her strong hands rubbing in unscented lotion. She found his hot spots, the places he was tight and sore, using thumbs and fingers to release the pain.
On the massage table, Tom slowly turned over as Debbie lifted the sheet that covered his naked body.
His sexy, busty wife stood on his left, working lotion into her hands. At forty-two, she still had that Miss Iowa State Fair runner-up figure he fell for while in college at Iowa State.
Debbie, wearing a loose hospital-style scrub top, took a seat at his head and set her hands on his shoulders. Tom kept his eyes open as she continued to work, her chestnut hair swept up in a claw clip, leaving only her bangs to frame her face. He’d made an appointment at The Blue Daisy Spa, where she worked part-time. Amelia’s idea.
“So, will you come to lunch with me? I have some things to say,” Tom said. After twenty-five years of marriage, he was used to apologizing to his wife. Her hands felt great. Along with the curve of her chest under her top, they had led him down the road to having an erection that was currently tenting the sheet.
Debbie stood, walked to the door, and pressed the button lock. Returning to the table, she pulled the sheet off him and crossed her arms to peel the loose scrub top over her head. Her full breasts held by a no-nonsense, skin-toned bra. His cock stood tall as Debbie squirted more lotion into her palms.
“Shh, don’t make any noise. This is not normally that type of spa,” she said, fisting his cock.
Debbie took a deep breath and let it out. “I also have some things to say,” she said as she stroked his cock. Tom gripped the edge of the table, arching his hips. Her hands felt so damn good.
Evidently, right now it was “that type of spa,” but he didn’t argue as he reached for his wife’s breasts. He had a reservation at the nicest lunch spot in West Des Moines.
Me and You Bunny
Corn Bunny sat at the edge of the daybed, legs open. Farmer Daddy rocked back in his computer chair, watching the screen. Bunny, wearing her half-mask, had a small pink vibrator in her hand, near her clit.
They’d made small talk in direct messages in the public stream as he tipped a few tokens. The evening was quiet, her friend Spice Bunny not on tonight. He didn’t like what she was doing. Tom was all but certain she was his daughter, but that sliver of doubt—that tiny percentage of uncertainty—was the only thing allowing him the deniability he needed to justify his own descent.
Amelia hadn’t helped. She’d watched on Friday night, just saying, “yes, it could be” her sister. Right now, Amelia and Dani are in their rooms. Dani was using Riley’s room. They’d established some boundaries; this wasn’t the Playboy Mansion. It was a working farm with long hours during planting season. They all had work to do and needed rest.
Tom adjusted his camera, so it was pointed at the lower half of his body, his shorts on the floor. The talk of unmasking did not come up during the last couple of sessions.
“Hey,” Dani said quietly from the den doorway, waving her hand to get his attention. He covered his headset’s microphone.
She made some hand signals that he said yes to and held up his empty beer can. He watched her tight pajama-clad ass retreat.
This morning, he sat Danielle down for a talk after breakfast while Amelia was out on a tractor, Juan supervising her work.
“Dani, I have some forms for you to fill out. I’d like to offer you a job as my administrative assistant,” he said as she took the clipboard from him. He did need help; Debbie usually helped around the office.
He told her what the job was, mostly clerical. In the end, she would be expected to chip in where needed until she couldn’t work any longer.
“Tom, thank you so much. I feel safe here!” she said, touching his hand. He watched her, no shame or embarrassment at what they had done together from her. A free spirit, apparently.
“The job pays $500 a week and includes room and board, along with health insurance,” he said. He hadn’t figured her out. She wasn’t dumb and didn’t talk like a redneck Okie. How did she come to be in Iowa with her shithead boyfriend? Did she have family back in Tulsa waiting for her? He didn’t ask.
Bunny was talking. “Daddy, ohh, you have such a nice cock. Stroke it for me,” her girlish voice playful.
Farmer Daddy liked hearing her words. He did as she asked, moving his hand up and down on his cock for her to see. He needed more lotion. She smiled big and white, moving her little vibrator near her clit.
“Daddy, you were going to tell me a fantasy about your daughters,” she teased, naked now. He’d bought 1000 tokens, just in case.
Tom focused, watching her hazel eyes, a hand teasing her small titties, her naughty smile inviting.
In his peripheral vision, Amelia and Dani each carried in a kitchen chair, sitting on either side of him in their pajamas.
He looked at Amelia on his right, sitting where he could see her in front of the wide desk. She turned her chair and slipped off her pajama bottoms. Her eyes followed his hand, slowly jerking himself.
Tom had a bottle of lotion in his left hand lubing his cock. Dani set an open cold beer on the desk.
“Okay,” he returned his attention to Bunny, “it’s about bath time,” he said, his legs dangling off the side of the chair. Holding his cock, he talked.
Tom pulled the headset mic close to his lips, voice low. “Over the years, I’ve had lots of bath time fantasies about my girls, Bunny,” he said, glancing at Amelia, no reaction. He continued, picturing his most recent dream.
“So, Bunny, in my fantasy, it’s a few years ago. I’m alone with my youngest girl, she’s in middle school. She is in the bathtub before bed, bubbles up to her chin, strawberry blonde hair, like yours, wet and clinging to her back. I kneel at the side of the tub, sleeves rolled up, washing her back with a sponge. She giggles when the sponge tickles, arches a little so her small boobies break the water, pink nipples hard from my touch.”
Thinking of Tatum, Tom stroked his moisturized cock to hardness, imagining, and took a sip of beer. Amelia had her legs open and sock feet on the desk, a finger in her hairy bush, eyes on Tom.
“I rinse her shoulders, then lower, soaping her flat belly, sliding down between her thighs. She parts her legs just enough, innocent-like, trusting Daddy. My fingers brushed her smooth slit, accidentally at first, then lingered, circling slowly. She gasps, hips lifting into my hand. ‘Feels funny, Daddy,’ she whispers, but she doesn’t stop me.” he licked his dry lips.
Bunny was using fingers and vibrator, leaning forward.
“I soap her tiny clit, gentle strokes, watching her face go flush. She grabs the tub edge, coltish legs trembling, water rippling. I slip one finger inside her, tight, warm. My daughter moans softly, rocking against my hand. ‘More, Daddy,’ she begs. I add a second finger, thumb on her clit, pumping steadily while she stares at me with her big hazel eyes.”
He could feel the dream. “On my fingers, she comes hard, body shaking, water sloshing, little whimpers turning to cries. I keep going, probing, until she’s limp, flushed, smiling shyly. I lift her out, towel her dry, and carry her to bed...”
Tom paused, cock hard, breathing heavy. Bunny’s vibrator buzzed louder in his headset, her hips twitching. “ ... that’s my fantasy.” he said. “Tell me what you’d do if you were her,” Farmer Daddy said, his breathing ragged.
A glance to the right. Dani, topless, her big tits pressed against Amelia’s head, hands down inside her friend’s pajama top.
Bunny’s body shook as she tossed the vibrator on the bed, using fingers on her sex, labia pulled back, her pink gash open. “Ohh, Daddy!” she gushed, her pink gash filling the lower half of the screen.
“That’s such a bad story,” she moaned, circling her clit with one fingertip. “I would ask Daddy if I could see it, even touch it, his penis, his cock,” she paused, letting the vibrator hum low against her thigh again.
“Like this,” Farmer Daddy said, holding his hard cock under the camera for her to see, close.
“Your cock is so big, Daddy!” Bunny said, watching him through the camera.
Hearing Bunny’s comments, Tom’s grip on his cock tightened, stroking slowly and deliberately as Bunny’s question hung in the air. On the computer, the stream maximized, filled with pink folds, fingers holding herself open, glistening under the ring light. Her voice breathless, teasing, almost challenging.
Tom exhaled hard through his nose, eyes flicking to Amelia, legs wide, pajama top rucked up, Dani’s hands kneading her breasts from behind while one slipped lower, fingers sliding into Amelia’s wet cunt. Amelia bit her lip, staring at her dad, cheeks flushed.
Bunny whimpered, plunging two fingers deep inside herself, hips rocking. “Would you let her?” she pleaded.
Tom’s hand sped up, pre-cum mixing with lotion in his palm.
He continued, breathing shallow, “In my fantasy ... yes, in the bathroom, I slip off my boxer shorts. I’m so hard, I let her touch my cock. ‘Daddy, you’re so big.’ She says, reaching out, small hand wrapping around my shaft, her hand barely fits.” I say.
Amelia moaned softly beside him, Dani’s fingers pumping faster inside her friend. Dani leaned over Amelia’s shoulder, whispering loud enough for the mic to catch, if they weren’t careful. “Tell her what happens next, Tom.”
He was ready to cum. He pictured his daughter Tatum’s slender body lying on her bed at that age.
Bunny’s breathing hitched, fingers frantic. “Fuck ... I’d want my Daddy to come on me. Make a mess on my boobies, my face.” Her girl voice strained.
Tom’s cock throbbed in his fist; he almost pointed his cock at the monitor, her pussy so close. “I would, Bunny!” His nuts were painfully tight, sphincter clenching, fuck no tissue or towel.
Bunny arched, crying out as she came, body shaking, fingers soaked, vibrator forgotten on the sheets. Tom followed seconds later, grunting low, cum spilling over his hand and onto the hardwood floor.
Amelia whimpered beside him, coming hard on Dani’s fingers. “Daddy!” his middle daughter said. The room smelled like sex and beer.
Bunny panted on screen, smiling lazily. “Farmer Daddy, that was so much fun,” she said, using her little girl voice. She lay back on the bed where he could see her better.
“One last question,” Tom said, his sense of right and wrong lost. “Would you let your daddy do that to you? Bathe you ... like that?”
Bunny’s chest rose and fell in slow, heavy breaths. Her fingers still glistened as she trailed them lazily across her inner thigh, eyes half-lidded behind the bunny-ear mask. The vibrator lay discarded beside her, buzzing faintly against the sheets.
His words hung there, shamelessly, no filter left. His sense of right and wrong had dissolved somewhere between the first stroke and Amelia’s muffled cry beside him.
Bunny tilted her head, lips parting in a slow, wicked smile. She leaned closer to the camera until her masked face filled the screen, hazel eyes locking on his through the pixels.
“God yes, I’ve fantasized about this,” she whispered. Bunny-Tatum said then changed the subject. “This weekend, a private or just hang out?” she asked, still selling herself.
No, he had plans. “Sorry, Bunny. Busy. Next week, same time?” he said.
“Okay, I had fun! Are you reading the book yet?” she asked, slipping on her panties.
“I ordered Claiming of Sleeping Beauty on Amazon. Haven’t started it yet,” he said. The book in a drawer beside his bed.
Bunny blew him a kiss. He had spent and tipped all his prepaid tokens, 1000. It went to her, most of it, that sorority taking a cut for sure.
Distracted, Tom minimized the screen, his cock soft now, his pulse returning to normal. He tossed his headset on the desk, focused on the two living, breathing naked girls next to him.
“Amelia,” he said as his daughter and Dani stood, “clean up and let’s watch a couple of episodes of Cheers. I bought the complete series on DVD from Amazon.” After that cam session with Bunny, he needed to clear his head and laugh. In his heart, guilt rose its ugly head.
His girls smiled.
Dani went first. Amelia took his arm as he picked up his shorts. “Do you fantasize about me like that?” she asked, her blue eyes locked on his.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her sweaty forehead. “You bet I do,” he said, honestly and openly.
“Good. Now, I want to hear about your lunch with Mom!” she said.
He patted his daughter’s ass.
“We made progress,” he said.
“That’s great, Daddy!” Amelia said as he followed her to the bathroom to clean up.
West Des Moines – The House of Dreams (May 11)
Riley
Tom parked his F-250 in the graveled parking lot near the house, the wrought iron gate clicking shut behind him. He looked over the rows of BMWs, Teslas, and Mercedes, a newer blue BMW 3-series caught his eye. The house was a large, three-story “old money” place in one of West Des Moines’ older neighborhoods, brick, stone, and ivy, tucked away from the street.
He checked the invitation one last time. It was a manila card with a handwritten note in silver ink: The House of Dreams. The website’s information had been sparse, adults only social club, blood test required for new members.” His sleuthing duo of Amelia and Dani had quietly dug deeper and spoken to friends over the last few days. He’d followed the dress code, brown sport coat, open collar, and slacks, and left his iPhone in the truck as instructed.
At the tall black double doors, he pressed the brass button. A bell chimed inside, and the left door opened. A well-built man with a shaved head and an earpiece nodded to him, waving a security wand over his clothes. Tom pulled out his keys and coins until the wand stayed quiet.
Inside, the foyer had black marble floors and on one wall a large oil painting of a nude woman eating fruit. Shadows played across her curves in a way that looked expensive and classic. Tom straightened his coat and walked toward the reception desk.
A masked woman in a low-cut black evening gown stood there, her dark hair pinned up and red lips curved in a professional smile.
“Member or guest tonight?” she asked.
“I have an invitation,” he said. She held out a manicured hand. Tom noticed the red polish as he took her in—the slight curve of her cleavage, her warm but reserved manner. She looked young.
He handed over the card and the envelope from the clinic with his clean blood test that included his unique six-digit code that served as his identification. She typed it in, and her smile widened.
“Mr. Sullivan, I see that your membership is Platinum, VIP paid in full for thirty days with a twenty thousand dollar line of credit. I’m Dawn, welcome to The House.” Her smile wide and welcoming.
Tom raised an eyebrow, wow! “Who set it up?” he asked. He hadn’t.
“Sorry, I don’t have that information,” she said, handing him a black plastic card with a barcode on one side and a silver H on the other. “This is your membership card. Bring it each time.”
He took the card. He’d tried to find out more. An internet search gave little information about this place. Just a couple of mentions buried deep on a kink webpage advertising for a certain type of girls to work here and certain types of patrons. What Amelia and Dani found out was all speculation and gossip.
She quickly explained the rules. “H,” as it was called, was a social club for the BDSM and swinger lifestyle, offering regular parties, training, and private rooms. Discretion was absolute: no phones, no recording, respect each member’s privacy and boundaries. He could bring guests. For example, if he had a lady friend and they got cleared beforehand, they were welcome, she said.
She handed him a black cloth mask. Tom tied it on and caught his reflection in the foyer mirror. With the mask on, he thought he looked like the Lone Ranger.
“I think I have a meeting with Lilly?” he said, still unsure, the invitation unclear.
She paused, looking at her computer, “Yes, a viewing tonight, in an hour,” she said. “Now, please follow me.”
If Tom felt nervous, it was because he only had one daughter left on the list. Riley. She worked at the capital, did charity events, and liked people. She was the one who dragged him to church when he wasn’t feeling it and sent him nice cards while he was overseas with the Army. A BDSM club? Maybe she was just a waitress or worked reception, he told himself.
The receptionist led him down a short hallway lined with more erotic art, nudes in chains, and masked figures entwined under low red lighting. They emerged into a modern bar with dark paneling and intimate booths. It was only 8:00 p.m., but the room was already half-full.
Men in tailored suits sat with women in everything from silk gowns to leather and fishnets. The air was a mix of quiet conversation, the clink of glassware, and a faint scent of expensive perfume and leather. Des Moines had a kinky side, it seemed. He and Debbie had dipped their toes into the swinger scene years ago, pre-COVID, but this place felt different, deeper, more private.
A tall woman in a black leather corset and fishnets approached them. Her looks striking, full breasts pushed high by the corset, her long legs meant that in her heels, she looked him right in the eyes. Golden blonde hair cascaded down her back, while blue eyes watched him from behind a cat mask.
“This is Mistress Jeanette,” the receptionist said. “She’ll be your guide tonight.”
Jeanette’s smile was confident as she took his arm, her touch warm through his sleeve. “Come with me, Sullivan. Let’s have a drink.”
She led him to a curved black leather booth in the corner. They sat hip-to-hip, the fit tight enough that he could feel the warmth of her through her fishnets. A drink menu sat on the table between them.
A masked cocktail waitress in a fishnet bodysuit and heels took their order. Looking around, Tom realized this was no dive bar; the place had class. He squinted at the bottles behind the bar before ordering a Glenfiddich. Jeanette chose a glass of red wine.
Watching the other guests, Tom felt slightly underdressed. Most of the men wore dark colors and open-collar shirts, with a few in black suit coats.
Jeanette noticed his gaze. “It’s your first time, no worries,” she said, her smile helpful rather than condescending. “I can suggest a couple of men’s stores if you’re interested.”
They toasted. The whiskey was the good stuff; it burned and then settled warm in his chest. Jeanette watched him over the rim of her glass, her clear blue eyes unreadable behind the cat mask.
“Do you ever take these off?” he asked, knowing it was a newbie question.
“Later, when we know you,” Jeanette replied. “There are parties where the rules are laxer, no masks, kinkier. Would you like that?” She teased her voice light.
He nodded, and they drifted into small talk. She was a student, she didn’t say where, originally from Nebraska, studying political science. He told her he was a farmer, a father of four, and married, though he stumbled over that last part.
Jeanette placed a warm hand over his. “Our clients come here to forget the outside. Some bring partners, some come solo. I am yours for the evening. I’ll guide you, and the rest is up to you.” She sipped her wine, and Tom watched her, trying to read the meaning behind the words.
She glanced at a gold watch on her wrist. “First, we need to get you out of those street clothes, and I’ll tell you more about our club.”
She saw his expression he’d chosen to use his middle name, Sullivan, for the night.
“You’ve been invited to observe a BDSM session,” Jeanette explained. “You asked for Lilly, I believe.”
Tom nodded. He’d called and used the name Lilly. Was it really going to be this easy to find Riley? And if it was her, what then?