Rebecca Larson shifted nervously in her chair, gulping a vodka tonic to settle her jitters and numb her nerves. The thirty-eight-year-old woman didn't know why she had agreed to this in the first place. Now she was having serious, second thoughts about staying here.

Rebecca couldn't understand why her husband, Robert had wanted to come to this 'secret' nightclub in the first place. They had a wonderful sex life together and she did nearly everything he asked, even to the point of taking some pretty severe ass whippings with his belt. Why he wanted to pay so much money to watch someone else have sex was beyond her imagining and she squirmed as she tried to think of a way to get him to leave.

"Do you think Laurie is ok?" she asked, attempting to worry him about their fifteen-year-old daughter.

"In case you haven't noticed," Robert replied calmly, "Laurie is getting to be a big girl now. She knows where the phone is and she has my pager number if she needs us. Now just relax and enjoy the show. I'm sure it will start anytime."

Rebecca cursed to herself as she looked around the dark room. Twelve tables surrounded a small platform that rose about a foot off the ground. On the platform was a small, twin-size bed with brass head and footboards rising from it. The bed coverings were lush, fully quilted and very soft looking, mostly feminine. The intimacy of the room would allow the patrons a close up view of whatever happened on that small stage.

The club, La Petite, was appropriately named. It was a small room, the tables only a few feet apart and large drooping tablecloths hung nearly to the floor. Rebecca had to lift the cloth and place it over her lap to sit down. The only source of light was the candles place at each setting and a very dim chandelier that hung just above the small bed.

Rebecca took another good pull of her drink and a then a deep breath.