Kink Club owner, Zachary Coles would openly tell you commitment and monogamy are for fools and hedonism was the only game he subscribed too.
That was until he agreed to help out his long-time friend, Max Jenson and offer his son, Ellis a summer job...
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~ ~ Zack ~ ~
I bypassed the shiny black mailbox, slowing down my car so I could take the turn off the country road.
Coasting forward a bit, I stopped and lowered my window at the code box and entered the four-digit number that would grant my passage through the double iron gates.
I was here.
I'd never been here before but I heard whispers about the place.
Shit-dark shit went on here far beyond the realm of kink. To dark even for my blackened soul.
Pulling up to the old dwelling, I cut the engine and stepped out of my car and looked up.
It was an impressive building-more like a mansion. Long drapes covered the rows of French windows and from here it was impossible to see inside.
But I doubted they wanted anyone to see inside.
Heading up to the front door, I glanced down at the mat gracing the doorstep. 'Welcome All' it said.
I smirked maybe it should have said. "Welcome! We're thrilled you're here... but don't get too comfortable, we have a 'killer' sense of hospitality!"
I shook my head and pressed the doorbell.
I was about to press it again when it opened to reveal a man I'd met many years ago. Jagger Knight or JKto me.
"Zack," he greeted in a gruff voice.
Under any circumstances, JK was an impressive man. His eyes were the colour of a shiny penny, hair a darker shade of cinnamon. Our tanned skin and height of six-two were parallel, and really the only similarities we shared appearance-wise.
My hair was black, eyes an unmatched hue of grey. I tended to be clean-shaven, occasionally sporting some stubble whereas JK always had a beard.
For a time we had aligned perfectly in every way that mattered, well, apart from our professions and hobbies.
I enjoyed kink. JK enjoyed kink with a side order of killing. Not that I was one to judge.
"You found me."
I glanced behind me. "It's off the beaten track."
He smirked standing there wearing a plastic coverall which had splashes of what looked like dried blood.
"Come. This way."
Stepping over the threshold. "How's business?" I asked.
There was an elongated pause "Productive."
JK was a man of few words.
Through many rooms and down winding corridors I followed until he stopped in front of an unassuming black wooden door. He tapped in a six-digit number on a keypad and locked clicked. On the other side was a narrow staircase. Right on his heels and halfway down the steps, a smell smacked me in the face, making my eyes water. Bleach. But under the strong layer of bleach something else hid.
