Stella Makes Good Read Online Free

Was this what I expected people to think of me: that I’d turn to orgies to get my kicks as soon as Terry was out the door?
    I nudged Mike. ‘Ever been to one of these before?’
    He shook his head. ‘Not sure it’s my scene.’
    I eyed a dominatrix who was teetering on twelve-centimetre stilettos. She gave a man dressed as a slave a few lashes of her whip, then picked up some kind of paddle and started spanking him with it.
    ‘Electric paddle—won’t leave marks,’ said Trevor, the tasselled-penis man, back beside us. ‘Most people like to be hurt, but no one wants to have to explain the welt marks when they get home.’
    ‘Hmm,’ I said, noticing a sign hanging on the wall nearby: Welcome to Master Mitch’s and Mistress Sheri’s Haven. Go hard or go home .
    I was thinking about the hundreds of homes I drove past every day, the mums at tuckshop, the fathers at cricket. What did they get up to after hours? How would you know? Everyone was so busy with their own lives, tending to their gardens and weekly agendas. How did anyone have time to go these parties, let alone source costumes and accessories? Maybe it was all done online or by mail order.
    I glanced at one couple who seemed heavily into the domination and submission routine. He looked absurd, crawling around like a baby, sucking a dummy, wearing a nappy, a thick spiked dog collar around his neck. A few more people joined them—grown men in nappies on their hands and knees, sucking on dummies, being dragged along by their red-lipsticked, black-corseted mistresses.
    I nudged Carly. ‘You don’t see that every day on the North Shore, do you?’
    What kind of people subjected themselves to this treatment, I wondered. How could they enjoy it? Was the butcher from my local supermarket crawling around in a nappy? Or perhaps the guy who owned the pizzeria? The local bank manager?
    ‘Anything goes,’ I overheard Trevor say to Mike. ‘As long as it’s consensual. We’re all adults. But remember your safe words.’
    Safe words?
    I listened as Trevor explained. ‘Red means stop, yellow means this is getting intense and green means keep it up, buddy.’ He slapped Mike on the back and disappeared into the throng.
    ‘You wanna get out of here?’ Mike asked.
    I was about to say ‘yes’ when Carly whacked me on the arm.
    ‘What is it?’ I said when she hit me a second time.
    ‘Look,’ she said, pointing.
    I was staring at a dominatrix who looked slightly familiar—Tami from the newsagency?—when I noticed one of the nappy men look up. At first I thought I was mistaken. Shit! I wasn’t. It was Steve. Jesse’s husband.
    Everything around me seemed to stop suddenly. Steve? Was I hallucinating? How long had this been going on? Was it legal? Did Jesse know?
    I had to make a split-second decision. Stay still and hopefully remain invisible? Or make a run for the door? If we moved too quickly, we’d be spotted for sure, but if we stayed where we were, the group, including Steve, would walk—crawl—straight into us.
    ‘The door,’ I whispered to Carly.
    She turned to follow me, but tripped on a rug and fell into my back. She cried out. I turned and pulled at her arm to keep her moving, but it was too late. Steve had seen us.
    I could tell he was trying to place us, to figure out where he knew us from. Seconds later, it clicked. It probably didn’t help that Carly was staring at him open-mouthed.
    Steve was one cool customer. Only for the briefest of seconds did he looked horrified. Then he winked. Did he really think we were players?
    ‘Let’s keep this to ourselves, ladies,’ he said, standing up. ‘We wouldn’t want anyone else finding out about your nocturnal activities, would we?’
    ‘Our nocturnal activities?’ Carly hit back. ‘What about yours?’
    It was hard to take Steve seriously considering he was wearing a studded dog collar and a nappy. Thank God for the nappy, I thought. I had no desire to see my friend’s husband’s