Chapter 23

The music in the club pounded at me like a physical force. Sweat was prominent among the smells. Lights were everywhere but none of them really lit up the room. Most were indirect or lit up surfaces. The street lights outside provided more illumination.

Two more security guards stopped me just inside. Both were tall, muscular men and dressed like the one outside. They didn't smile or give me any condescending looks. They simply waved a metal detecting wand over me. It went off at my pockets. I pulled out my cell phone, fetish, and key. They nodded and let me pass. Looking out at the multitudes of moving bodies and the outfits most of them wore, I wondered how many had to be checked for hidden weapons. Then I remembered the girls at the front of the line outside. I was probably the only one.

A woman at a podium stopped me. Her blonde hair was in two long, thick braids and she wore a flesh-toned cat suit with black lines that emphasized her nipples and vagina. "Ten dollars for the cover charge and your ID," she said, having to yell to be heard.

I paid her and pulled out my driver's license. She swiped my bank card and handed it back, then looked at my ID. She held it out to me and when I took it, she grabbed my wrist, and gave me a stamp on the back of my hand. It was a circle-slash, probably to tell the bartender not to serve me alcohol. I remembered the girls outside were wearing latex gloves. I wondered what she would use to denote under aged patrons with them. It wasn't my problem. No, my problem was before me.

I stared at the crowds. The club had a growing line of people outside waiting to get in and from the looks of it on the inside I understood why. If they let everyone in as they came, it would violate occupancy limits. The number of people didn't bother me though. It was their outfits. I felt like an outsider, a true reject, among throngs of people dressed in outfits and materials I had never actually seen on a person. Realistically, I knew things like this existed, even clubs that catered to this fetish, but nothing could have prepared me for it. That was probably why Jordan hadn't told me. She knew I'd go anywhere else to avoid this place.

I shook off my apprehension. I was here to talk to Lady Brighid. I didn't necessarily have to do anything else, but I would talk to her. In fact, I would probably talk to her and then leave, if I couldn't adjust to the climate.

I made my way to the bar. The crowd waiting for drinks was three deep and no one was shy about bumping into anyone else. The leather outfits were smooth and ranged from supple to rigid. The latex though, almost always had a near-sticky texture that refused to let my skin or clothes slide past it. I had to fight to keep from getting dragged off by one outfit after another. Everyone else seemed to either get off on the way the material gripped or simply enjoyed making my night more difficult.

No one struck me as bashful. The men wore either vests or simple straps, leaving their chests on display regardless of their build. Most wore pants of one type or another but some wore shorts. I even noticed one guy in a leather skirt. I might have referred to it as a kilt, but the guy wore a mask so I wasn't sure of his nationality. The women were just as brazen. Those not wearing full cat suits displayed enough skin to make things more than interesting. Many wore corsets that covered and supported their breasts along with something to cover what the corsets didn't. Others wore latex. Knowing the latex wouldn't let go easily, I was surprised to see one woman wearing a bright red latex dress. It was a mix of elegant and sassy, until she turned around. The back was a series of straps. She didn't wear anything under it.

After seeing the dress, I did my best to keep my eyes in my head. I got closer to the bar. It was long and curved along the wall behind it. The front was lit up with various signs depicting some of the more popular drinks available. All of them were alcoholic. I wasn't interested in getting drunk, so it wasn't a big deal. There was also a line of barstools along it. All of them were occupied and the crowds around those on the barstool simply found openings to order and retrieve drinks.

The outfits around me continued to distract me from what I was doing. Water splashed my face and I realized the bartender was looking at me. "What can I get you?" he asked.

I looked around and said, "Just a coke, and I'm looking for Lady Brighid."

He pulled out a glass, set it on the bar, filled it with soda from a retractable hose, and then pushed it to me on a napkin. "That's seven dollars."

I gave him my card. He swiped it and handed it back. I took it and the drink, but the bartender moved on to the next person. I tried to get his attention again but the rest of the club-goers effectively moved me from the bar by pushing their way in front of me.

I made my way to some tables near the dance floor, but didn't see any free seats. The music thrummed in the air at tempos that I wasn't sure anyone could actually dance to, but the dance floor was full. In fact, latex and leather clad patrons danced everywhere they had room to move. In most cases, it looked like they were simply bouncing, and I realized that was the best they could do.

And to think, it was only a Thursday night.

I looked around the club again, kicking myself for not getting a description of Lady Brighid from Jordan before I left. However, between the low lighting, the outfits, and sheer number of people, it would be impossible to find her even if I knew what she looked like. I had to ask around, but I didn't know who knew her and who didn't. The bartender was my best chance. I turned that way again, determined to get an answer from him.

I had quickly grown used to the cramped conditions and how the latex pulled at me. Everyone bumped into everyone else on one level or another, but when someone grabbed my behind, I couldn't let that go.

I spun around and found a young woman in what looked like a normal blouse and shirt. She smiled up at me and though she was already close, she pressed her body to mine. Her clothes were latex.

"Is this your first time here?" she asked, shouting to be heard. I nodded my head. "I thought so. You stand out. What's your name?"

"Seth," I said. "What's yours?"

She smiled. "Tiana."

The music didn't simply change from one song to the next like on the radio, but sort of continued constantly. I could see the DJ's booth where a guy wearing a heavy set of headphones adjusted controls and bobbed his head with the driving beat. Tiana wasn't shy about grinding her body against mine and I liked the way she moved and smiled at me, but I had to find Lady Brighid before I got caught up in what was going on or donned my fetish.

There wasn't a lull in the music, so I finally just said, "I'm looking for someone."

Tiana smiled and ran her hands over my backside again. "I'm someone." She moved to a slower oscillation of the music's tempo, keeping beat but making her hips sway more suggestively.

I smiled while she danced. Unfortunately, I didn't think she was the woman I sought. I decided to ask. "Are you Lady Brighid?"

The blonde's smile vanished and she pulled from me like she would get burned. She shook her head and disappeared into the crowd.

Fantastic. Not only did I scare off probably the only woman that found me attractive without the fetish, but from her reaction, Lady Brighid wasn't someone to mess with.

Someone else pulled on my shoulder, forcing me to turn. "You don't look that scary," said another woman in a leather corset, thigh high boots, and panties. She grabbed my chin. "You look like you need a lesson in proper attire."

I pulled my chin from her grip. "Excuse me?"

She looked me over with a quick sweep of her eyes. "I can teach you. All you have to do is submit." I don't know where she had it, but she pulled out a heavy collar with a D ring.

I shook my head. "No thank you."

She smiled. "When you change your mind, I'll be waiting." Then she slipped into the crowds and vanished.

I looked around the crowd, keeping an eye out for anyone else who might get too close. It was difficult though. Too many people were around and no one tried to hide their confusion, disgust, or amusement at my clothes. I finished my drink and went back to the bar. The bartender had as much energy as the crowd. He moved in his own dance from one patron to the next, pouring drinks and handling money in between. He got to me and said, "Another soda?"

I nodded and said, "Where's Lady Brighid?"

Again, he ignored my question, but was just as efficient at getting my drink and taking my money.

A barstool next to me became available and before I thought about it, I took it. The crowd was putting me off and I seriously considered leaving. I didn't need to go through all of this just to find a new Fonte. Talking to Lady Brighid was becoming less and less important, unless someone pointed her out to me.

"You look a little out of place," said a woman sitting next to me.

I groaned under my breath, getting tired of that opening line already, and then I looked at her. Her dark red hair was pulled back tight and pinned into a bun on the back of her head. Her dark brown eyes looked me over like every other set had since I arrived and her outfit was more leather than latex. She wore a corset that covered her breasts, but only as much as the law required. Unlike all of the other corsets I had seen, which used string to hold the panels together, her corset was held together by rivets and thick cord.

She turned to face me and crossed her fishnet covered legs. She had a fantastic figure and moved like she knew it.

With her focus fully on me, I felt a little sheepish for looking her over without answering. "A friend said I should come here, but she didn't tell me anything about the dress code."

The redhead looked me over again. "Leather and latex night. It's not required attire, but as you can see, it is popular."

I nodded but didn't say anything.

She studied me with an arched eyebrow. "So, does your friend have a name?"

"Jordan," I said, but didn't want to give away more information.

"And when did Jordan last visit?" she asked.

I studied the redhead. "Why so curious about my friend?"

She shrugged, which could have meant a lot or nothing at all. "I only ask because you don't appear to be enjoying yourself. It makes me wonder what kind of friend you have. If she knew what to expect and didn't tell you..."

"There could be any number of reasons she didn't tell me," I said, interrupting. "Since she isn't here though, we can't ask her."

She studied me. "You're protective of your friends, an admirable trait, but I'm curious why she sent you here so uninformed."

I looked around at the crowd. "I'm not here for the dress code. I came to talk to Lady Brighid."

"About what?" she asked.

"That's between me and her," I said.

She nodded. "Fair enough." She turned to the bartender. "Brandon, could I have a screwdriver, please?"

The bartender, Brandon, nodded, poured the drink for the redhead, and handed it over without missing a beat among the other patrons. However, he didn't ask for payment.

I frowned and watched the redhead take a sip. It was possible she had a regular tab with the club that he automatically added the charge to, so I didn't say anything.

She held up her drink. "To a good evening."

I held up my drink too and shared in the toast. I needed a good evening. So far, nothing implied it would happen.

The redhead watched me the whole time. Even with so many people pressed in around us, her eyes never wavered. I grew nervous and again considered the importance of talking to Lady Brighid. Was it really worth all this?

It wasn't that she was staring that bothered me. My girls did that sometimes, especially my redhead, Danielle. But this redhead unnerved me. Granted, among all of the leather and latex that wasn't too difficult, but it was different with her somehow.