Blue Velvet

by Linnea May

  That would be the easiest and most obvious response.

  But it would also be a lie.

  I didn’t come here for any of those things. I didn’t come here to fuck; I didn’t even plan to kiss or touch anyone. Of course, she made me forget all those intentions. I wasn’t prepared to meet a girl like her, who pulls me in without even trying. I thought staying at the bar with her would be a safe call because nothing could ever happen between us, regardless if I wanted it to or not.

  But I can’t even say that for sure anymore.

  “Do you want an easy answer or the truth?” I offer as a response.

  Now she’s the one knitting her eyebrows together as she tries to make sense of me.

  “The truth,” she says, lacking conviction.

  I clear my throat, knowing I’ll regret my decision but unable to stop myself from speaking.

  “I came here for a drink and for the company,” I tell her. “Innocent company. I needed to get out of the house, but I’m not fit for the regular bar scene. A work associate recommended this place to me. He also gave me the referral I needed to be welcomed into this club. It sounded good. Calm, safe, good drinks, pleasant company. That is all. I did not come here with any bad intentions.”

  “Not fit for the regular bar scene?” she repeats, tilting her head to the side while a puzzled expression blossoms on her face.

  I nod. “Yes. That’s all you’re getting from me for now, Melina.”

  Her eyes flicker every time I say her name. It’s just another reason for me to have it cross my lips.

  “What do you consider bad intentions?” she probes.

  “You know what I mean,” I say, waving her off.

  “You mean you didn’t come here to ... experience the full service?”

  She narrows her eyes, defiantly jutting her chin forward as she awaits my reply.

  “I guess you could say it that way.”

  My answer seems to make her unhappy or at least uncomfortable. She scans the bar, making sure no other customer requires her attention. I only notice now that the place has emptied since the midnight performance. I was too focused on Melina to know whether people went home or if the performance made them eager to play in the rooms upstairs. It’s probably a combination of both.

  “Would you consider me part of the service?” Melina asks. She looks even younger with that layer of insecurity overshadowing her expression. “You asked me earlier if I wanted to go upstairs with you.”

  I nod, understanding what she’s trying to say. I told her I didn’t come to this club to fuck, yet I’ve made suggestive remarks at her all night. That behavior would bewilder anyone.

  “No,” I say. “You’re not part of that particular service.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “Is that why you want to play with me?”

  I scoff as I shake my head.

  “You asked for the truth, didn’t you?”

  She nods, her face tense with apprehension.

  “Come here,” I say, waving her closer.

  Melina hesitates for a moment before she complies, stepping as close to the bar top as she can and leaning in on her elbows. Her face is so close to mine that I would only have to lean in the slightest bit to steal another kiss from her.

  “I asked you because I can tell that you’re curious, too,” I say, lowering my voice. “I asked you because I wouldn’t want to go up there with anyone but the one person who’s been the most enchanting company all night long. Does that not make sense to you?”

  She tries to hide behind her brown locks as she turns away from me, a girlish smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Can you be patient?” she asks, catching me by surprise as her eyes lock back onto mine. “Can you wait for a little bit?”

  My pulse reacts to her words before my mind does. She’s speaking so low that I can barely hear her, but even if my ears let me down, I wouldn’t need to rely on them to know what she’s going to say.

  “We’re going to have a look upstairs together?” I phrase the words, making it easier on this surprisingly shy bartender girl.

  She nods. “If you can wait until everyone else has left.”

  I sigh, deciding to keep her in suspense for just a few more moments.

  “I don’t know,” I say, running my hand through my hair and grimacing as if her proposal comes with too many obstacles, too many conditions for me to adhere to.

  But the moment I see disappointment mix with embarrassment on her pretty face, I can no longer play hard to get. The way her face lights up when I wink at her is so much more precious than seeing her suffer.

  “Gladly, if you make me another one of those,” I say, pointing at the empty glass in front of me.

  8

  Rowan

  She hushes me continuously even though we made sure we’re alone. The devil girl showed up one last time, whispering something in Melina’s ear while I sat at the bar as the last remaining guest of tonight. She cast me a devious wink as she scurried away, leaving us as the only remaining people in the venue.

  “This is weird,” Melina said as she looked around the empty guest room at the remnants of tonight—half-emptied glasses everywhere, the dirt brought in by dress shoes and heels, the furniture shifted when it had been used for more than just sitting, and here and there, even a piece of clothing is scattered across the room in various places.

  Melina is nervous when she leads me up the stairs, and I wonder whether she’s questioning her decision.

  “Hey,” I say, stopping her just as she’s about to climb the first step, by closing my hand around her wrist as I pull her back. “We don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

  She looks up at me through wide eyes, her lashes fluttering, and for a moment, I fear she might actually back out.

  But there’s no regret in the reflection of her eyes, no doubt or fear. Just curious anticipation and a strong will that seeks a challenge. She manifests that impression by turning around to me, getting up on her tiptoes, and claiming a kiss I didn’t offer. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to fight her off. Melina knows what she wants, and that’s one of the sexiest things about her.

  Our bodies hardly touch while our lips meet with ferocious passion, driven by more hunger and desire than our first kiss. My cock twitches with need while I try to silence the alarms inside my head.

  Don’t do it. Don’t hurt her.

  Don’t fucking play with her.

  And here’s the thing ... I’m not going to. I’m not going to do what I’ve done with all the others. I’m deviating from my usual routine.

  I’ll just have to wait and see how she responds to that.

  “Is that clear enough?” she asks after breaking our eager kiss.

  I can’t prevent the smile that spreads across my face as I nod. “More than clear.”

  The beam on her face is nothing more than a flicker, but it sets me on fire.

  She turns to climb the stairs with deliberate caution, obviously trying to appear elegant before me by swinging her hips dramatically with every single step.

  “Here we are,” she whispers, almost too low for my damaged ears.

  I step closer, placing my hands on her shoulders from behind. The fact she leans back into me doesn’t go unnoticed. She’s average height for a woman, but so much shorter than me, and I can easily look over her head. It’s dark up here, darker than I expected. Dim lights line the ceiling along a wide hallway that splits into several smaller corridors.

  “Here we are,” I repeat her words. “Do you know where to go?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Sandy told me that some of the rooms on the left have not been used tonight,” she says. “We should check there first.”

  I keep my hands on her shoulders as she starts to walk, staying close behind her, because I can barely find my bearings.

  Soothing silence welcomes us as we enter the velvet rooms. She takes the first left, and we step into another much sm
aller corridor. It’s lined with velvet curtains on both sides, leading to what I presume to be the actual velvet rooms. The light in here is equally dim, but the bulbs differ from light to light. Some of them are warm white, just like the lights in the main hallway, while others are blue, and some are red. The corridor is much longer than I expected it to be, and some of the curtains have been left open, revealing the kinky getaway behind.

  “The rooms don’t have doors?” I ask. “Just the curtains?”

  “The red rooms and black rooms don’t. They are only semi-private,” Melina explains.

  “What about the blue rooms?” I ask, pointing at a blue light at the far end of the hallway.

  “They are private,” she says. “And soundproof.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I place my hand on the small of her back and gently nudge her forward. As we pass the other rooms, I catch her peeking through the open curtains. The first room we pass is empty, nothing but a barely lit room with button-tufted walls and carpet—all in black. Nothing inside tells of the things that may have transpired here tonight.

  The next room that allows a look inside is illuminated in red and tells a very different story. An upholstered bench in the middle of the room has cuffs attached to each corner. A large flogger rests on the leather surface, and a glass cabinet on the opposite wall displays objects I’m all too familiar with. Whips, crops, floggers, pinwheels, and restraints are just a few of the many implements intended for pleasurable torture. A St. Andrew’s cross next to the cabinet offers another way to put a slave in her place.

  I have used them all. I have drawn blood with some of them, and I’ve provoked desperate pleas with many of them.

  And sometimes, I’d lose control when the person in front of me was most vulnerable. I don’t know if these scenes have ever given me true pleasure, but I know for sure I cannot repeat them.

  If Melina asks me to take her to one of the red rooms, this will stop right away. No matter how much I may want her.

  But Melina gives the red room nothing but a quick glance as we pass it, before continuing her way to the end of the hallway. She stops right under the blue light, casting a quick smile over her shoulder as if to check whether I was still with her. Then she reaches forward and moves the heavy curtain aside to find the doorknob hidden behind it. I hold the curtain to make it easier for her to slip through the door, which she does with one swift step a moment later.

  I’m greeted with complete darkness when I follow her; darkness that is so heavy and absolute that I involuntarily widen my eyes in a helpless attempt to improve my vision. A few moments later, I’m able to make out more details of the room, but only because Melina flips a light switch right next to the door. The light in here is blue as well, revealing a room that I would describe as something between the other two we passed. There’s a smaller glass cabinet in here, but it doesn’t hold the tools meant to induce pain. There are no whips or floggers, nothing leather at all, but I see feathers and blindfolds, as well as some rope and silk cloths. The bed against the wall to the right of the door is barely big enough for two people. There are no pillows or blankets, just a silk-covered mattress. The bed doesn’t have a headboard or an elaborate frame, but small hooks on each of the four corners allow a person to be tied down spread-eagle.

  Just like the other rooms, button-tufted velvet line the walls, and it matches the light as well. Blue. Everything around us—every fabric, every shadow—is dipped in the same soft, dark blue tone.

  I like that.

  Her breath hitches when I close in on her, aware of what I want to do with her.

  “Do you like this room?”

  Albeit phrased in a low tone, my question breaks the silence with unpleasant harshness. It only manifests my decision to erase sound from tonight’s play.

  She nods, the smile on her face mysterious, if only because of the blue shadows cast on her features.

  “It’s like we’re underwater,” she breathes.

  Her description hits the nail on the head. The dim blue light, the muffled sounds, the soft carpet beneath us—the way our voices seem misplaced. It really is as if we’re moving in a dark aquarium.

  Her expectant eyes are on me, waiting while she stands motionless, her hands resting at either side of her body. Her stance is alert but not tense. She doesn’t look scared, but she doesn’t look quite relaxed either.

  She doesn’t move away when I lean down to her, placing my finger below her chin as I tilt her face up to mine.

  “Do you trust me, Melina?”

  Her eyelashes flutter at my questions, and her lips part, releasing a faint sigh before she finds the words to reply.

  “Yes, I do.”

  I nod. “Good. You need to trust me for what we’re about to do. I promise you, I won’t break it.”

  My stomach turns at my words.

  Fuck. Please don’t let this turn into a lie.

  Please don’t make me ruin this.

  Please don’t let me become that man again.

  I’m not here to repeat old mistakes, but Melina has no fucking idea how big a risk she’s taking by being here with me.

  I hope she won’t regret it.

  9

  Melina

  I want to kiss him, but I don’t want to initiate it. I don’t want to come across needy and too eager.

  Then again, men like that, don’t they?

  What do men like? What does he like?

  I don’t know, but I’m sure I will find out tonight.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks. The question holds a threat; something that should worry me. It’s just a hint, just a whisper beneath the loud voices of desire, but it’s definitely there.

  Be careful with him.

  Don’t make any rash decisions.

  I nod anyway. “Yes. I do.”

  It’s a lie. I don’t trust him. How can I trust a stranger I barely know? A man I just met a few hours ago? Trust isn’t something you earn with just one interrupted conversation, one evening spent together at a bar, when I couldn’t even give him my complete focus for the entire time.

  No, I don’t trust him.

  But I want to trust him.

  I want to do this. I want to be closer to him; I want to be touched, and I want to touch him. I want to be with him like this. I don’t even care if it’s just this one night.

  Another lie.

  He stops my inaudible train of thought by pressing his lips on mine, claiming a kiss different from the ones before. This one isn’t subtle; it’s not biding or careful. There’s no restraint in the way his tongue intertwines with mine, tasting me as if it was the very first time. This kiss is asking for more, a yearning impossible to ignore—or to deny.

  When his hands reach up to the buttons of my blouse, my heart jumps with delight. He unbuttons it quickly, his hot lips never leaving mine while he peels the fabric off my body.

  I don’t know why, but I’m too shy to reciprocate his actions. My hands hover next to his hips, pondering the idea of unbuckling his belt or traveling under his suit jacket. But I don’t do either.

  He breaks our kiss to get rid of my blouse, together with the little fake bow and the vest until I stand before him in nothing but a bra and my skirt and pantyhose.

  “To the bed,” he orders, using as few words as possible while he gently steers me toward the silk-covered bed behind me. I walk backward, leaving my eyes on him while trying to control my erratic breathing. He’s so hot, and the way he’s handling me right now makes my core clench with anticipation.

  My legs meet the edge of the mattress, and my knees bend on instinct as I sit down. He lets go of me and takes a step back to do what I didn’t have the guts to do earlier. He takes off his suit jacket and throws it on the floor without another thought before he unbuttons his shirt. Even after my eyes have adjusted to the lack of light, the blue light is so dim, it barely allows me to see anything. I squint, trying to see as much as possible as he reveals his chest. Even under these po
or conditions, I can tell he must be ripped as hell. I lean forward, trying to get a better view of his marvelous physique. He’s on the slimmer side, but his torso appears to be nothing but muscle, exuding strength and power. His muscles flex as he reaches for his belt buckle, a black line dancing on his right upper arm, suggesting a tattoo.

  “Naked,” he hisses, jutting his chin forward to beckon me to undress.

  I hurry to obey, jumping up from the bed while my hand searches for the zipper on the skirt. My fingers are trembling, and I hate that I have to divert my eyes from him. Instead, I lower my gaze to the floor to maintain my balance while undressing.

  I slide my skirt and pantyhose all the way down my legs, freeing myself from the fabric as quickly as I can.

  Still, he’s quicker. I can’t suppress a gasp when I lift my head and realize he’s standing before me completely naked, all of him on display for my hungry eyes. He’s standing tall with his shoulders pulled back and his legs slightly apart. My eyes trail along his chest, scurrying to his arm in search of the tattoo I just saw a moment ago. The black lines encompass most of his upper arm and the side of his chest, curling over his skin like a crowd of wild snakes. With the way the lines move across his skin, it’s possible that those really are snakes, but I can’t say for certain, and my focus is soon drawn away. Scanning the valleys of his sculpted chest, I travel down to the chiseled V guiding me to his member. He’s only partially hard, but even in this state, he looks massive in an almost frightening way. I never thought that size would matter to me, but when my curious eyes rest on his length, I instinctively lick my lips. My heart races with the desire to touch him, to run my tongue along his shaft, to taste him ...

  “Naked, I said.”

  His words are barely more than a hissed snarl, but they break the silence between us almost violently. I suck in a sharp breath when he steps forward, not minding that his half-erect cock pokes against my belly as he reaches around to my back and unhooks my bra with expert skill. It falls to the floor, joining the rest of my ensemble.