The Pet Palace Sex Club

Alice stepped into the club, the door shutting behind her with a soft hiss that made the silence of the lobby feel heavier. The space was too bright, too sterile. Polished white tiles underfoot, potted plants standing like guards along the walls, and a faint floral scent that felt oddly out of place for a house of pleasure. It reminded her of a doctor’s office more than a sanctuary of sex, and the thought made her pulse quicken with second-guessing. A long corridor stretched past the lobby, doors lining either side like the sterile rooms of a clinic.

Behind the front desk sat a woman who looked like she had been in the job far too long to be impressed by anything. Her hair was piled high in a messy blonde bun, dark roots showing. Her lipstick was a shade too red for her pale skin. She wore oversized glasses that slipped down her nose, forcing her to look at Alice over the frames as she lazily filed her nails. Alice hesitated, smoothing her palms down her skirt. Walking in here left her more self-conscious than she had expected. Her dress was a simple, thin summer fabric that clung just enough to her curves. The neckline hinted at the swell of her breasts, the hem ending at mid-thigh to show off long, toned legs. Her hair, chestnut and glossy, brushed over her shoulders, framing a face that was both soft and striking. She was a rare combination of innocence and quiet sensuality. A beauty that made men look twice and women silently jealous.

“First time, hun?” the receptionist asked, her tone flat, almost dismissive.

“Um… yes,” Alice answered softly, her voice betraying both nerves and the faintest edge of curiosity.

The woman smirked, sliding her nail file aside. “We only accept women over the age of eighteen who are married. I’m afraid you—”

“I’m twenty, and I’ve been married for three years.” Alice produced her ID, interrupting the receptionist. The woman took it, eyebrows lifting as she gave Alice another look, this time lingering.

“Marriage certificate?” she asked, voice casual.

Alice handed it over, the movement drawing attention to the soft curve of her wrist and the delicate shape of her fingers. The receptionist began typing, her nails clicking against the keyboard.

“Married at seventeen,” the woman said, her tone carefully neutral. “That’s unusual.” Alice let out a sigh. She was used to this reaction, used to strangers trying to ask the unspoken questions.

“I got pregnant at sixteen. My parents insisted he marry me before the baby came.” Her voice was steady, resigned.

The receptionist tilted her head, a glint of recognition in her eyes. “Shame. Parents really should’ve learned from the mistakes of others. My story’s similar. Didn’t work out for me either. Bad marriages.”

“My marriage is fine,” Alice snapped back a little too quickly. “I’m just…” Her words faltered.

“Oh, we get those too.” The receptionist’s voice softened into something sly. “Hun, I’ve got just the pet for you. He’s great at giving a woman what she needs, not what she thinks she wants…”

She handed Alice her documents back and slid a key across the desk, a bold metal 7 hanging from the ring. Alice picked it up, her hand trembling slightly, and walked toward the hall. The air was warmer there, humming faintly with muffled sounds, breathy laughter, distant moans, seeping from behind closed doors. The hallway was long, dimly lit by golden sconces, each door identical except for the metal numbers fixed at eye level. As she passed door four, the low rhythm of pleasure made her stop, her cheeks burning. She forced herself onward, her pulse quickening as she reached door seven. The key slid into the lock with a soft metallic scrape. Alice took one last deep breath, twisted the knob, and pushed the door open.

When Alice stepped into the room, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. It wasn’t large, but it had clearly been designed with pleasure in mind. To her left, one corner was tiled. Sleek and glossy under the soft lighting. A toilet stood discreetly against one wall, a shower beside it, and in the middle sat a wide tub, deep and luxurious, large enough to comfortably accommodate three people. Where the tile met the carpet, she noticed a metal track that matched one on the ceiling, a folded partition ready to slide across and divide the space if privacy was ever wanted.

On the other side, the room shifted from sterile to indulgent.