"I do. The people here are nice, and I love driving. Not having to wait on the bus or the subway or even for a taxi to pick me up."
"Well, good. I'm glad you're happy." She nodded.
I nodded back and took another sip.
"You're not happy.” She shook her head.
"What?" I held my hand out.
"Brooklyn. I know you. You seem sad. Is it Paul?" She couldn't disguise the amusement in her voice.
"He's never here," I said. It should bother me, but it didn't.
"That's a good thing."
"Abbie."
"Brooklyn," she mimicked my singsong voice.
"You're not happy." She tilted her head and nodded.
"Are you asking me or telling me?" I looked down at the table.
"Telling you. I can see right through you." She reached out and rubbed my forearm. "You haven't been happy since Malcolm."
I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them. I hoped it was enough to make the subject change.
It wasn't.
The waitress delivered our food and left without a word.
Abbie continued.
"I'm not saying you should have stayed with Malcolm. He was a dick, but you were happy when you were your true self. You have to admit that." Abbie focused on her pancakes.
"No, I don't," I said, but she didn't hear me.
"I think I have just what you need." Abbie reached into her backpack and pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the table.
I stuffed a piece of bacon in my mouth.
Abbie would never be organized, and it suited her fine. She reached into her pack again and pulled out a black brochure with a silver ribbon.
"Here."
I ran my fingers along the raised embossed C on the front. I untied the ribbon and opened the three-fold brochure. In the center, it read.
Please accept this invitation to CRUSH's Annual Open House. As you have been sponsored by one of our most esteemed members, you are welcome to enjoy the pleasures that await you at Dallas’ premier upscale BDSM club.
"Who do you know that belongs to a BDSM club in Texas?" I asked as I turned the invitation over in my hand.
"You remember Trevor?" Abbie raised her eyebrows.
"The one who dyes his hair gray?"
"It's not gray. It's silver."
I rolled my eyes.
"He and I have been sceneing together a lot lately. He's amazing." She blushed. Trevor was a Dom, but Abbie wasn't what I would call a sub. I mean she didn't mind being a bottom, but she preferred the top.
"I can't go to a sex club," I whispered, suddenly conscious of people listening in on our conversation. It would be nothing for us to carry on a loud and open conversation about sex in New York. Hell, the waitress would sit down and join us, but they had different standards for etiquette here in the South. I was attempting to fit in.
Going to a sex club would not be conducive to my goal of fitting in.
"Why not? It will be fun." Abbie bounced on the red leather booth.
"What if I run into someone I know?"
"So what? You haven't lived in Dallas long enough for it to matter."
"I don't know." I looked at the invitation again.
"Come on. You don't have to do anything. Let's just check it out. See how they do things in the dirty south.” Abbie grinned.
I grinned back.
She had me.
I was curious.
I was a proud member of the BDSM community in New York. My friends were my family, a unit who helped each other and supported each other. My ex introduced Abbie and me into the life. He was an amazing Dom. He trained me. He taught me about submission, communication, and trust.
Then he shared me with his friends and swapped with other Doms. He loaned me out all under the guise of testing my devotion.
I went along with it because I didn't know any better, but then it got dangerous, and I needed to get away.
But it was still part of me.
"Okay. I'll go, but you promise not to leave my side for a minute," I said.
Abbie winked, nodded, and grinned.
She wouldn't keep that promise.
Seven
Brooklyn
As we pulled up to the club, I struggled to breathe.
I had allowed Abbie to dress me in a fitted white button-down over a black corset that pushed my boobs up to the sky. She paired it with a short black leather skirt and black heeled boots. Short of the collar, I looked the part.
She went all out in a new Domme outfit she bought for the occasion—a pair of black leather shorts and skintight black leather jacket with lace cutouts. She finished the outfit off with thigh-high black leather boots. I wasn't sure where Abbie got her money lately. She wasn't the type to buy expensive clothes and fly first class at the spur of the moment.
My palms sweated, and a dull ache developed behind my eyes. I was self-conscious. I used to love this environment and feel right at home. I was more nervous about whether they would allow me back in. Like somehow the community in New York would tell Dallas how I abandoned them.
No one understood. At the time, I had no choice.
"Will you relax?" Abbie leaned over and sniffed. "I can smell your fear."
"Shut up." I pushed her away.
She laughed.
The club wasn't far from the condo, situated under a highway overpass on the fringes of downtown Dallas. The gray concrete exterior and blacked-out windows made the building seem abandoned and old. We pulled up to one of two gates with a keypad.
"It’s 4247." Abbie read from her phone.
I punched in the code, and the gate swung up.
We drove through and pulled up behind another car.
A man in his leathers got out, came around the back of the car, waved the attendants away, and opened his passenger door. He pulled on a leash and a woman stepped out. She was tall, thin, and sophisticated but had the familiar air of a submissive in her actions.
My stomach fluttered.
One attendant drove their car away while I pulled up. Two attendants came out from nowhere and opened our doors at the same time. They were dressed in black.
"Good evening, ladies." The attendant extended his hand, and I took it. He sensed my reluctance and pulled me out of the car. "Welcome to Crush. I will escort you to our hostess."
I looked over. Abbie led the other guy. How were we placed in our roles when they didn't know us?
A short, shapely woman in a corset and leather mini greeted us at the door. Even in five-inch black strappy heels, she was short.
"Good evening." She extended her hand. "Your invitation?"
"Only if you say please," Abbie chimed in.
The girl blushed and smiled.
Abbie in full Domme mode was nothing new, but she had stepped it up a notch. She exuded power. Abbie came here to play.
The hostess guided us to a small desk in the corner of the lobby. We showed our IDs and signed a confidentiality agreement.
We rode an elevator up one floor, and it opened into the club.
Abbie grabbed my hand and walked me into the main room. It was dim but not dark. Dance music played in the background. The place had an air of mystery and darkness, but it wasn't seedy.
The bar covered the entire back wall. Everyone was in modest, appropriate attire—lots of black, lots of leather, and lots of Texas size hair and cleavage, too.
They looked like the people I saw every day. After work, they changed their clothes, and showed up here. From the screams and the sound of the whip from a far corner, they came out to play.
The familiar sound of a paddle as it connected with bare skin made my insides clench. I loved that feeling. I missed that feeling.
I turned toward the sound and gasped.
I shouldn't be shocked in this environment, but when you see someone you know, it tended to throw you a little bit.
"You okay?" Abbie followed my gaze. "You know him?"
I nodded.<
br />
Harrison stood behind a young woman bent over a leather spanking bench with her bare ass high in the air. Her hands were tied in an intricate rope pattern behind her back. Her skin was alabaster with a pink tint to her cheeks, the ones on her face and her butt.
Her eyes watered, but she stretched out, and she appeared relaxed and weightless.
I missed that feeling, too.
Harrison bent over and whispered in her ear.
A grin turned up the corners of her mouth.
He stood up and rubbed the paddle across her ass.
I focused on his fingers wrapped around the handle of the paddle. It was an extension of his hand. His strong muscular forearms flexed as he drew the paddle back. I tensed when his hand stopped in midair.
I looked up.
Harrison's gaze bore right through me.
His expression showed pain and annoyance if that combination was possible. He blinked and narrowed his eyes.
The sub tensed but looked back when the spanking didn’t come.
I tried to tear my eyes away, but those pools of blue got me every time.
"And he knows you." Abbie placed a hand behind my neck and guided me over to the circle gathered around the sub on the bench.
I shrugged Abbie off, but she squeezed tighter.
"Kelly, please excuse me for a moment." Kelly's eyes blinked, and she went from bliss to confusion as she watched Harrison walk over to Abbie and me.
Harrison's gaze traveled over my body, but he addressed Abbie.
"Harrison." He extended his hand to Abbie. It was proper etiquette for a Dom to address another Dom or Domme in Abbie’s case, but not another Dom's sub.
Abbie shook it and held on to it longer than necessary. "Abbie."
"You ladies are new here?" Harrison asked.
"Yes. Just visiting from out of town." Abbie winked.
"Harrison?" My voice came out as a whisper.
He ignored me.
"How about I show you and your—"
"Harrison," I said louder, and both he and Abbie turned to scowled me.
I held a hand up.
"I am not her sub."
"Just curious then," he snapped back.
Abbie tensed, ready to respond and protect.
"Abbie?" I grabbed her arm. "Can you give us a minute, please?"
"You sure?" she asked.
"Yes." I nodded.
Abbie smiled and squared up to Harrison before walking away.
I watched her disappear into the crowd.
Harrison's heat crawled under my skin. His powerful body towered over me.
I wished I had worn those stilettos. I looked up at Harrison.
He peered down at me.
I lowered my gaze. His disapproval too much to take. I walked toward the bar.
He followed.
"James," he called over my shoulder.
The bartender acknowledged him with a nod.
"What would you like?" Harrison asked.
It was a loaded question. Instead of answering him, I waited for the bartender to get within earshot.
"Club soda."
I sensed Harrison's disapproval. I didn't understand why, but it made me happy. I got to him as much as he got to me.
"Usually, when I see people I know in here, I'm not surprised." He nudged me. "I have to say, I am surprised."
"Why do you have to say it like that?" I asked.
"Like what?" He shrugged his shoulders.
"In the most insulting manner." I sighed. "Why can't you just say you're surprised to see me here and leave it at that?”
"You and Abbie?" he asked.
"Are best friends. She came down from New York to see my new life." I cringed, realizing how stupid that sounded.
"And she brought you here?" The sarcasm dripped from his tone.
"One of her partners is a member here. Trevor Milestone."
"I know Trevor." Harrison smirked.
"What?"
"No, I just thought Trevor is too much of a Dom to be with someone like Abbie." He turned his back to the bar.
"Maybe he likes to be topped from the bottom from time to time.” I tapped on my glass. “Things aren’t always what they seem.”
"What about you, Brooklyn?" Harrison stepped into my personal space. "You like to top from the bottom?"
"No. I tend to be more decisive in my desires." I lowered my head, my tone soft.
Harrison leaned into me, our bodies touched.
"Tell me what you want, Brooklyn."
I looked up, our faces inches apart. I bit my lip.
Harrison focused on my mouth.
The rest of the world stopped. My heart beat fast inside my chest. The sound was loud and abrupt, and the rhythm was off. I turned away and pulled in a deep breath.
"Nothing. I don't . . . I just came with Abbie." I scanned the crowd.
Harrison stepped back a few paces.
"You're just here to watch then."
I nodded my head.
"Come on, let me show you something."
Harrison
I grabbed her hand. I wasn't sure what I was doing.
I loved and hated her being here. I wanted to punish her and embarrass her.
She was beautiful, smart, strong, funny, but she was also submissive. My Dom senses picked up on it. It fit, but then it didn't because if her husband was her Dom . . . I didn't want to think about it.
I had left Kelly tied and bent over the bench unattended. It wasn't appropriate, but I knew no one would touch her. Everyone in the club knew she belonged to me.
The crowd had dispersed.
She sighed when I returned to her side.
I looked back at Brooklyn.
Her eyes narrowed.
I reached out and ran my hand down Kelly's arm. I gripped the rope that tied her wrists together. It was a beautiful pattern. It would leave some amazing lines on her creamy white skin when I unwrapped it.
I wondered if Brooklyn liked being tied up. I shook the thought out of my head and returned my attention to Kelly.
"Kelly, meet Brooklyn." I leaned over and whispered in Kelly's ear. "Brooklyn thinks she wants to be a sub. You mind showing her what a good little sub you are?" She blushed, smiled, and nodded. "Say hello to Brooklyn."
"Hello, Brooklyn," Kelly said.
Brooklyn nodded.
I stepped behind Kelly, ran my hand down her torso, and slid the tips of my fingers inside the waistband of her low hanging pleated skirt. I was nowhere near her pussy, but the effect caused Brooklyn to look away.
I untied Kelly, but my eyes remained on Brooklyn.
When she was free, I turned her toward me. I leaned in. "Wait for us in my room." I kissed her shoulder as I peered at Brooklyn. I ran my hand up Kelly's thigh and squeezed her ass, gave it a little tap, and sent her on her way.
Brooklyn set her jaw and bit her lip, but held her tongue.
What a good little sub.
I followed Kelly but stopped.
Brooklyn wasn't following me.
I returned to her side. I leaned in.
She leaned away.
"I thought you wanted to watch?" I asked.
"Watch what, exactly?" Brooklyn asked.
"Kelly loves for people to watch." I nodded toward the private room.
"I'm not watching you have sex with her." Brooklyn's nose wrinkled. She refused to look at me.
"So the first rule about Dom/sub relationships,” I lowered my voice, "It's not about sex."
"I'm sorry. I don't remember asking for a BDSM tutorial."
"Well, it looks like Abbie will be . . ." I pointed at Abbie on the other side of the main room. She had a guy on either side of her. Their bodies pressed together, moving to the beat. It was all foreplay. "A while."
I gripped Brooklyn's wrist.
She tensed but didn't pull away.
I walked her down the hallway to the private rooms. I paused at the door and looked down at her.
She focused on
the door. She refused to look up at me.
I pushed the door open.
Brooklyn's throat hitched. She coughed to cover it up.
I bit my lip to avoid laughing.
Kelly had stripped her clothes and knelt in the center of the room. Her hands rested on her thighs, and her chin was down. She was beautiful but not as beautiful as Brooklyn would be in the same position.
I had a type.
Kelly's blond hair and creamy white skin showed off the marks from my hand, my whip, and my ropes perfectly, but I'd seen it before.
I wondered what they would look like on Brooklyn's brown skin.
Brooklyn's anger radiated off her.
I pushed it aside and pulled her in the room.
I motioned to the chair in the corner.
"Sit down." I didn't mean for it to come out as a command.
She obeyed without hesitation.
Fuck if my dick didn't twitch.
Dickhead, concentrate on the one who is actually submitting to you.
I walked over to Kelly. I reached down and picked up a strand of her blond hair and let it fall through my fingers. I leaned over and gripped her by the base of the neck and guided her to stand.
I walked her over to the bench on the other side of the room and pushed her down with more force than usual. She gasped when her body hit the bench with a smack.
"Stretch your hands over your head," I commanded.
She reached out.
I secured them with satin ribbons attached to the bench.
She tested the restraints.
"What's your safe word, Kelly?"
"Red, Sir."
"Good." I ran a hand down her spine. I peeked over at Brooklyn.
She sat at the edge of the chair. Her legs pressed together.
Was she turned on? Was she wet underneath that tight little skirt?
I ran my hand over Kelly's ass and winked at Brooklyn.
She tilted her head.
I took that as a challenge.
My hand came down on Kelly's ass with a smack that vibrated off the burgundy draped walls.
I detected a soft whimper. I couldn't tell you if it came from Kelly or Brooklyn.
I smacked her again, and Kelly purred.
"That's it, my little kitten. Let go."
I smacked her again in quick succession.
Salvage Him (Highland Park Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
