The Braille Club (The Braille Club #1) (2 page)

Chapter 2

THE BRAILLE CLUB

“The Braille Club is just another Club,

as a diamond is just another stone!”

Braille Club, London, Present Day: Braille Club members are like any exclusive set. They have a certain air of superiority and arrogance that people recognise and resent, while wondering how to acquire it. Consisting of successful actors to members of Parliament, from religious figures to millionaires, from royalty to music legends, they all have one thing in common: an addiction to the darkness, and an addiction to The Braille Club. Created with passion—from a passion, are you ready? Close your eyes—what do you hear, a gasp? Close your eyes—what do you smell, arousal? Close your eyes—what do you feel, a touch? You are in the zone.

Benedict Harrison is the owner of London’s newest private members club, Harrison’s and the secret Braille Club.

He modelled his club based on an experience at a party he’d attended many years ago. Held in a beautiful mansion in Marbella, the house was vast and exquisitely furnished. His flamboyant host asked all his guests if they wanted to play a special game. Benedict was surprised when everyone in the room quickly consented and felt he had no choice but to go along with the others. That party changed his life forever.

He could not forget the experience, the first time he had registered anything close to emotion, and closing his eyes, he was transported back to that room. Dressed in a smart blue shirt and tailored black trousers he had felt underdressed as he admired the well-cut suits and stunning dresses of his fellow guests. He discouraged intimacy as a matter of course. His opaque eyes and brooding manner isolated him from the central group. His friend disappeared into the crowd, but this didn’t bother Benedict. Isolation was very much his comfort zone. He sipped his drink slowly and breathed in the wonderful perfume that seemed to be all around him.

Had he known its significance, he would have paid more attention to its occupants. His stand-offish manner ensured he spent the night alone, but the party had enthralled him and given him his first emotional connection. A human connection that not only had his dormant emotions stirring, but unbelievably, begging for more.

Since then he had never met a girl he wanted to see again. Still preoccupied with that explosive unidentified kiss he’d experienced at that party, he kept searching for a similar reaction. He did not find relationships easy, and struggling to make small talk, he often came across as hostile with his dates. He needed time to get to know someone but didn’t enjoy the intimacy it required. His growing reputation as a one date heartbreaker was entirely unintentional. That kiss, the power and passion of it, had never been repeated, leaving him disappointed. He had no shortage of admirers but was beginning to lose hope he’d ever make a connection again, and the thought depressed him.

Marbella, 2012

Everything changed when he met Siena. Although beautiful, it was not her looks alone that attracted his attention. Her skin was the colour of summer. Her figure, long and lean, was accentuated by the sexy dress that clung to her body in all the right places. Her face was reserved, while her lips begged to be kissed; she was an unusual combination of haughtiness and seduction.

They’d met on a business trip to Spain. He found himself at a hip club in Puerto Banus with Matt, his oldest friend—in fact his only friend. A club was the last thing he felt like after a busy day at the office, and then an evening flight into Malaga airport. They checked into their hotel, and it was Matt who suggested a taxi into Banus. Benedict tried to talk him out of it, but Matt was on a high, in excellent spirits, and Benedict hadn’t the heart to disappoint him.

After a couple of bars, they ended up at the night club. Drinks in hand, they fought their way to a free table near the dance floor. Matt soon started to talk to a very pretty girl standing beside them, offering her a drink. As Benedict stood alone, he decided to leave. Tired from the journey, he also had a client meeting the next day. These places were not his thing. Turning, he scanned the faces around him, searching for Matt. His eyes found Siena standing at the table next to him. Unable to drag his gaze away from her, he was mesmerised by her beauty as she stared at him intently. Her hazel eyes seemed to glitter with mystery.

As she approached him, her long white blonde curls, caught up in a high ponytail, caressed her bronzed skin. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Tilting her head, she smiled. Her high cheek bones and pert nose made her classically beautiful but it was her full bowed lips that hinted at passion, that he found himself staring at. She asked him to dance and before he could refuse, caught his arm and pulled him towards the dance floor.

Lady GaGa was pumping through the speakers as they stepped amongst the crowd. Linking her hand through his, she pulled him closer. Her perfume hit him, the smell wonderful and somehow familiar, and again the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Their bodies were crushed together as they moved through the throbbing floor. They started to dance, and he could feel her hip graze against him as they moved to the rhythm of the music. He rarely indulged in alcohol, but the whisky had relaxed him and made him loose. Recognising the next song, he found, to his surprise, he could dance.

“Sorry,” she whispered in his ear. Leaning in as a dancer behind her pushed past them, his body started to tingle, as did his memory. Such proximity so quickly would normally repel him, and he was utterly stunned he had allowed her so close…why? The music changed again, and he found himself reaching out for her. Their fingers interlocked, and it felt like a current passed between them. He pulled her close, enveloped in her scent; it was exotic and memorable. He pressed closer, feeling the heat and softness of her body as he wrapped his arms around her. It was hot and dark as he held her tight against him; their bodies locked together as they moved with the other dancers and the sexy beats of the music.

Benedict lost all sense of time as he slid his hands over the bare skin of her back and down the slippery richness of her short silk dress. Her body was fluid next to him; moving, teasing, touching up against him while their eyes locked.

The tension between them building, Benedict was shocked by his response to her. The intensity between them was palpable. She twisted away, and his body jolted with the loss of contact before she was back in his arms, her eyes closed, swaying and dancing in time to the beat. She leant in again, smiling as she linked her arms around his neck before tilting her head back. The Swarovski crystal on the long gold chain between her breasts caught the light as it bounced wildly around her neck, and he was lost in this new sensation.

Aroused, he could see the hint of her nipples as they clung to the silk of her halter neck dress and realised he wanted to touch them. He wanted to slip his hands inside her dress and caress her. Breathing hard, he suddenly wanted to kiss her very badly, to kiss the damp bronzed skin between her breasts, exposed and glistening, and then kiss the length of her elegant neck. His gaze travelled down her body, admiring her long tanned legs in her sandaled heels and imagined kissing them too. Benedict was startled as he experienced a rush of pure desire.

“Do I know you?” he asked, dazed, something tantalising stirred in his memory.

She gazed at him, smiling before twisting away, and he lost sight of her in the crowd of throbbing dancers. Benedict stood there reeling, racking his brains. He felt he knew her, but not recognising her face, he must be mistaken, but something was niggling. Frustrated it wouldn’t come to him, it was several more minutes before he plunged through the crowd in search of her.

Chapter 3

THE BRAILLE CLUB

Braille Club, London, Present Day: Braille Club rules stipulate no member can activate their keys more than twice in one week. This builds up member anticipation as they wait impatiently for their next delicious booking. Hopelessly hooked, they are frantic; it’s what keeps them coming back for more.

The two levels of membership in The Braille Club are granted according to a complex approval system. All Key Holders have access to one zone of their choosing, but only E Key Holders have access to all. This creates a certain rivalry amongst members. Whispered rumours cause heightened curiosity; a curiosity that for most will remain unsatisfied.

Benedict stiffened as he listened to the music playing on Guy’s laptop as he worked on zone playlists. Whenever he heard that song, it took him back to the party in Marbella and the game he’d played. The tune, “Wicked Games” by Chris Isaak, his host’s little joke, always evoked a reaction. The events of that night were still crystal clear in his memory. Twenty-two at the time, the party had given him hope. Hope he might feel, hope one day he could perhaps love. Just a game to the others, but for Benedict, an idea was forming.

The whole experience made him engage more, although he accepted these emotions should be second nature. He realised his ‘friends,’ a loose description of the people he allowed to interact with him, would have no trouble forming such emotions. He had attracted a lot of attention from women while studying at University and the guys on his course quickly realised he was a definite asset to have around. They regularly dated ‘Benedict’s Girls,’ as they called them, girls happy to oblige if it got them closer to the elusive Benedict. The more he ignored them, the more they seemed to want him.

The Braille party changed him, and now he couldn’t get enough of them. He kept thinking about that night, those sensations and that kiss. Indebted to Will, it was only after the darkness he’d found his way to the light.

Years of shutting down his emotions to cope with his life had taken its toll. He felt nothing most of the time and studied his friends with renewed interest, confused when a fellow student wept as he earned his degree. Benedict couldn’t understand his tears but with unusual insight did not voice his thoughts. His closest friend was Matt, although had you asked Matt he would have laughed to be called a friend.

***

Matt

“Benedict, a friend—are you joking?” scoffed Matt. “He barely tolerates me.” Yet he sensed Benedict favoured him. This knowledge brought its own pressures. Matt tried to be like Benedict, letting nothing get to him. He attempted to act like the cool guy he so obviously wasn’t, to bond with him. Unable to keep it up, he failed the test when his girlfriend dumped him, the effect like a blow to the head and ego. Especially when he found out another guy was involved.

The combination of alcohol and low self-esteem led to him pouring out his heart to Benedict, of all people. A sad state, as you never knew if Benedict was even listening. He always seemed a bit distracted, a bit distant. Matt realised he was listening as Benedict’s closed face showed both surprise and anger, before his mask slipped back into place. He had been different since his return from holiday, still distant but somehow more present. Matt had never seen Benedict lose control, nothing seemed to touch him. He didn’t get nervous at exams; he didn’t get drunk at parties; he was a complete enigma.

***

Benedict

Puzzled by Matt’s distress, Benedict strived to help his friend without understanding there was no solution. He forgot the solution to pain was time. Time would heal the psyche; time would heal the heart, and only time would provide a distraction. Perhaps in the form of a new girlfriend who would love Matt and make everything that was previously wrong, right.

Benedict did not understand or reconcile himself to his friend’s heartache because he'd no experience of it himself. He didn’t do girlfriends, but equally he was no stranger to betrayal, he had his stepmother to thank for that. As he did not involve himself with his friends’ peripheral lives, he did not know Matt’s girlfriend. Probably a good thing, with the awakening of Benedict’s emotions, he now registered anger.

After he graduated, Benedict spent the next few years working around the clock to build up his architectural business. He started small, working from a tiny office. Although financially secure, his inheritance did not allow access to large sums of money, so he budgeted well, rapidly gaining a reputation for outstanding design and personal service.

Bold and aggressive, he would bid on large projects that he didn’t get, but dogged determination meant he didn’t give up, and he started winning some smaller contracts. His business went from strength to strength. He moved out of his tiny office into larger premises. Something else drove Benedict. The kiss and whose lips they belonged to consumed him, and he returned to Marbella again and again, with no success. He enquired about the villa, but it was on the market after the death of its owner. Contacting Will, he asked if he knew of a different venue, but his friend didn’t, he thought the whole thing had stopped with the death of their host. This forced Benedict to take matters into his own hands. Again he was to start small until at last he achieved his goal.