by Donna Alam
I know with unwavering certainty what I am now, thanks to him.
Deviant. Broken. Abnormal.
Undesirable for my wanting.
Why else would he have hidden all this from me?
I hate myself for letting him in, but right now, I hate him more for proving I’d been this creature all along.
‘In the other rooms?’ Luke asks, pulling me out of my angry thoughts. ‘Just other rooms. Some with beds, some couches. Tables with bowls of flavoured condom and lube. Two rooms upstairs have all the kit—stocks and the cross. Spanking horses.’
Stocks and cross? I feel my eyes going wide. What the hell was he talking about?
‘You know, the St Andrew’s cross?’ he repeats, as though it might help. Maybe St. Andrew was the patron saint of strange sex. ‘Oh,’ he then adds, his gaze sparkling. ‘This looks like it could be interesting.’
Once again, I’m pulled from my worrying as Luke tips his head in the direction of one of the large windows. Sat in front is a pale velvet sofa, the kind that used to be called a fainting couch. A moment later, I feel like I could do with my own place to pass out.
The drapes behind are fully drawn, not that the trio sprawled there seems at all concerned by an audience. Almost as though they’d heard Luke’s encouragement, the lone girl in the group begins to slide to her knees, her fingers reaching to loosen her partner’s pants. A beat later, the larger of the two men joins her on the floor—two pairs of hands working quicker than one until the object of their attentions spring forth.
I don’t know where to look—where not to look—because it seems almost impolite to avert my eyes. The middleman, quite literally, folds his arms across his chest as though he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Pants around his ankles, the juxtaposition between the hot and the ridiculous secures my gaze as the kneeling pair begin to take turns sucking and licking, their own tongues meshing as they reach the tip of a very hard cock.
I begin to wonder about the etiquette for a night like this. Wonder how a person goes about getting someone to suck or lick you. Was it on instinct? A coy look, a secret handshake? A moment later, my thoughts disappear like wisps of smoke. It isn’t so much that I don’t want to look, more that I can’t move my gaze. Heads bob obscenely as the tight sounds of their pleasure fills the room. Candlelight flickers nearby, highlighting one head and sending the other into shadow. One golden, one dark, taking part in something surreal but as sexy as all fuck.
The energy in the room builds like a tension, the sounds of the trio’s pleasure stealing air from the space, almost asphyxiating its inhabitants, leaving them to breathe only the trio’s whimpers and half-moans. Leaving us all short of breath. The experience intoxicating. Addictive. Like drugs in the bloodstream, or that first shot of hard liquor blooming through your limbs. I feel hot, as if my skin is scorched, every fibre igniting as I watch.
After a moment, or ten, I force my gaze away, turning to an occupied Luke, whose own eyes don’t stir.
‘What happens if you want to screw in private?’ I whisper, fear creeping back in.
I can’t stand on the sidelines all night. I’d come to the club with a burning need to punish Dan, though I hadn’t quite planned how. But now, now I know. It’s hot watching the trio, surprisingly so, though not without a touch of awkwardness.
But Dan had never sought to touch me in public. Well, that was a clue.
‘It’s not allowed,’ Luke replies, placing his glass on the mantle above the fire. Is he distracted? Wanting a better view, as the events in the window come, quite literally, to an end?
‘There’s a time and a place for public fucking, and apparently, that place is here. Some rooms have doors, but you have to understand you might still attract a crowd.’
His expectant smile is lost on me, the echoes of a time and a place gripping me by the throat. And not in the way I like. Did Dan . . . fuck in here? In front of everyone? Why would he ignore my tentative advances outside the four walls of his home? Was he afraid of letting his own deviancy show?
Suddenly, something from the far side of the room snags my gaze, the pull as strong as the sun.
Dan stands in the wide doorway. That he wears a mask makes little difference. I’d know him anywhere.
My heart rises, my hand almost along with it, moving instead to secure my own disguise as I remember that this isn’t a social call.
If hope is a thing with feathers, it also has claws sharp enough to tear out a heart.
Chapter Thirty-Four
DAN
I’ve heard the term incandescent with rage but not with relief. And as I stand at the door to the main salon, I’m certain I must be glowing because the sight of her is pure relief. For at least a minute. Until I take in her clothing, her overtly sexual state of dress. She looks like a submissive’s wet dream. I wonder if she knows?
If she thinks that ridiculous mask would protect her, she’s sorely wrong. She obviously has no idea how much it accentuates her plush, red mouth, a mouth just begging for another’s kiss. I wonder how long it will be before someone tries. My thoughts darken as I wonder if she’ll let them. And how long they’ll retain their arms following. I’ll rip the fuckers off. Beat them to death with the bloody ends. Behind my own mask, my brow furrows. She’s in a sex club and well aware of the fact. She hasn’t confused the place, hoping to partake in a spot of afternoon tea. I sigh. The mask doesn’t conceal a thing. Not her desirability. Not her desire, ignited by the window scene.
That Louise is here with someone is secondary. But that she’s here, in this place I’ve hidden from her . . . makes my stomach plummet and twist.
Why come at all? Not a reconciliation. That’s obvious, especially as I catch the bastard next to her holding out his hand.
Revenge, then.
I curl my fingers around the doorframe, grounding myself, so strong is the urge to storm across the room. Instead, I gesture to one of the staff to follow me out into the hallway. My floor staff are all very discreet, there to oversee while remaining unseen. Jessica, this evening’s event manager, happens to be standing close by and follows me out immediately.
‘The couple by the fireplace,’ I grate out, watching her eyes flare. I don’t have the bandwidth for civility today.
She pulls out a small electronic tablet from the pocket of her skirt, anticipating what I want to know. Luke’s name and address. How many times he’d visited the club—twice as a guest. His proclivities—mostly submissive. That his application shows he identifies as straight but is open to same sex encounters.
‘His companion–’
‘Is of no concern to him,’ I growl, the cogs in my head beginning to turn.
LOUISE
‘It’s Dan Masters.’
The whispered statement seems to travel through the room, even though I only truly hear Luke’s astonishment.
‘So I see.’ My tone is a bitter acknowledgment.
‘You know him?’ Luke’s exclamation is paired with wide eyes. I begin to wonder what Scott had actually said in the office last Monday, weighing up how much he’d exaggerated. Fucking men. ‘When I came as a guest,’ Luke continues, his eyes no less wide, ‘I watched him use a naked woman as a footstool. Then he caned her for spilling some.’
I swallow pain. I swallow his words. I try not to choke on all the things I don’t know about the man I love.
‘I’ve met him.’ I try to shrug, my body stiff.
‘They say he rarely comes here anymore,’ Luke whispers, right about the time it becomes obvious he’s making a beeline for me.
‘Darling.’ One quietly spoken word. And how it makes my heart ache.
‘Daniel,’ I return, hoping he doesn’t notice the waver in my tone. Or the tremble in my hand as I raise the empty glass to my lips to take a sip of nothingness. Hell.
‘No, darling,’ Dan purrs. Taking the glass from my hand, he replaces it with another taken from one of the ridiculously dressed waitress. I wonder if his staff are coache
d to cater to all Dan’s whims? ‘That’s not how it works here.’ His tone is smooth, dark, and dangerous as he turns to Luke. ‘Mr. Smith, I believe.’
‘No, he—’
I don’t get to finish as Luke holds out his hand in confirmation, adding in an all-knowing tone, ‘We’re all anonymous. Except for the Master here.’
‘Within these walls, I’m just Masters, Mr. Smith.’ Dan’s words seem deliberately bland as his eyes slide to me once again. His gaze travels over my body, as if his eyes alone could remove my clothes. ‘But as for anonymous, my darling here never could be. Even hiding in plain sight. A mask can’t conceal everything, you see.’ I take what feels like a slight, raising my chin. Dan smiles beneath his mask, all obvious teeth and implied menace. ‘What’s your pleasure?’
It used to be you, I almost reply. Until you lied. Only, Dan’s words aren’t directed at me.
‘I-I believe I’m a switch,’ Luke stutters out. Which is news to me.
‘A switch?’ Dan repeats, as though Luke commented on the time of day using a defective timepiece. ‘I understand this isn’t your first . . . experience here.’
Luke looks to be blushing under his disguise as begins to stammer a justification for the way he likes to fuck.
‘So you’re a submissive,’ Dan suggests. Luke doesn’t answer, his gaze swinging between us as Dan speaks again. ‘Come on, man. If you can’t own your sexuality here, you’re not ready for our membership terms. You must understand that my asking comes from a place of trying to know you better. A place of offering you some fun.’
My heart hits the pit of my gut. Is he offering Luke his services or mine? And that he can read me so well, even behind the mask, is frightening as he leans in to run a finger along my exposed jawbone as he whispers, ‘She’s not going to be much fun by herself.’
‘Fuck you.’ My words hit the air like an impact, conversations all around us stirring to a halt.
‘Should I?’ Dan replies quietly. Frighteningly quiet, actually. ‘We both know how good that can be, but perhaps I should fuck him instead?’ His gaze turns to Luke dispassionately, gliding like silk back to me again. ‘Or we could take turns fucking you?’
His words—his tone—cuts like glass, but I fight to keep my countenance calm.
‘I’ll play you both for the chance. The decision goes to the winner as to who fucks whom.’ His disinterested tone is absolutely belied by the pulse jumping in his throat. ‘Darling,’ he purrs once again, ‘Should we play again? For old times.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
LOUISE
Another red room, I think as I enter, but one very unlike the infamous novel I’d read some time before. No obvious implements or apparatus line the walls. No strange harnesses in the ceiling. Thank heaven for small mercies, I tell myself, ignoring a pinprick of disappointment. I fold my arms across my chest, not quite believing I’d been goaded into this. Provoked. Dared, more specifically. To make matters worse, as with some of the other rooms we’d passed, there’s only a doorway. No discernible door. Nothing to hide behind; anyone could wander in and watch me fall apart.
So much for taking the power back. So much for revenge.
In due time, their foot will slip. Their day of disaster will rush upon them.
I brush away the beginning of the Bible passage forming in my head. Because this is what I get. This is my revenge.
Gilded mirrors of all shapes and sizes covered the walls of the room, glass speckled and cloudy with age. Debauchery by looking glass and candlelight. Is it supposed to make it more tasteful, somehow? I walk around the perimeter of the room on unsteady legs, concentrating on the mirrors, the drapes, the floor; anything but look at Dan. And I don’t realise he’s behind me until he grasps my wrists. As he grips them tightly, my fragile bones suffer his need.
His touch is like a nostalgia, a sad longing for something I shouldn’t want. Maybe, I begin to tell myself, I could be happy with one more time. One more opportunity to lose myself in him. But before the point I give in—beg him to take me—his fingers loosen, and he turns away.
‘We’re going to play Master says.’ Unmoving, I try to make sense of his words. ‘And like the redoubtable Simon, I’m in charge.’ He pauses, a smile of unpleasant proportions playing across his face. ‘And the Master says take it all off.’
Standing almost at opposite points of the room, neither Luke nor I move.
‘You have ten seconds to get into the centre of the room and do as I’ve said. Unless, of course, you care to concede. In which case, I get to choose who fucks whom.’
We draw together as though compelled, mirroring each other’s movements, our hands reaching to unmask first.
‘No,’ Dan calls, his voice ringing through the room. ‘The masks stay. The clothes do not.’
I turn towards the smattering of laughter, dismayed to see we’ve drawn an audience. Dan stands between the entrance and me, the group of voyeurs craning around him to see. Ignoring them all—Dan included—I begin to pull the sheer blouse from the waistband of my skirt.
‘In ancient Venice,’ Dan says, beginning to move towards me, ‘masks were considered a symbol of freedom; a way to behave badly without fear of revealing identity or social class. A way to misbehave without fear of being caught.’
I refuse to look as he draws near, eyes cast downward in mock subservience as I struggle with the button at the back of my neck.
A swish of cloth against cloth sounds next to me. Luke stripping his tie from his neck? The clink of a belt buckle, the whoosh of it coming loose from the loops. Too fast, I think, my stomach tightening. As I turn my head, Dan is holding the other man’s belt in his hand. Luke’s eyes are closed, his body practically vibrating as he swallows shallow breaths.
Hands frozen on my button, elbows ridiculously in the air, I watch on as Dan covers Luke’s hand with his own, lifting it to his own masked face. As Luke’s eyes open slowly, he looks vulnerable. And desperate.
‘Do you know anything about the mask you’ve chosen?’ Dan asks softly.
Luke shakes his head, whispering a no that’s barely audible.
‘My mask,’ Dan continues, pressing their joined hands to his own cheek. ‘Is La Bauta. La babau: I’m the fear lurking in your dark consciousness, the monster beneath your bed. Se non stai bravo viene il babau e ti porta via. As Venetians would caution their children; if you don’t behave, the bad man will come and take you away.’
Turning his head, Dan’s gaze pinions mine.
‘I’m the bad man,’ he says. ‘Just the way you like it, darling. I do believe Mr. Smith would enjoy the experience, too.’ He steps away leaving Luke’s hand hanging in the air. ‘I wonder if your choice of mask is in any way prophetic, Mr. Smith. La Ganga, your mask this evening, was worn by cross-dressing prostitutes.’
From those at the doorway comes a collective sharp intake of breath.
‘Shall we continue?’ Dan asks neither of us in particular. ‘Of course, we will.’
My hands are still behind my neck as though shackled there. The button is so tiny and slippery, I can’t seem to work it loose. It doesn’t help that I can now feel the heat of Dan as he stands at my back.
‘Help, darling?’ Without waiting for an answer, he brushes my fingers aside. ‘Are you enjoying this?’ As his breath brushes the back of my neck an electric pulse skitters across my skin. A beat later than would be appropriate, I shake my head.
‘Then let’s dismiss the audience. Send the other players home. Ask me nicely, Louise. We can give up this charade. You didn’t come here to play. You came here to punish me. Let’s hear the truth of it.’
I sense my button loosening, his thumb stroking the slash of exposed skin. My body begins to quake from the connection, from missing his touch.
‘Ask yourself, is it courage or foolishness that brings you here dressed like this?’
I glance down at the clothing I’d thought bold; and outfit that pushes against my comfort zone.
‘Wha
t did you see in the mirror this evening?’ His words curl around my ear with a softness I find hard to reconcile. ‘What was it you were trying to portray? A touch of daring or devil-may-care?’
‘Did he . . . the devil, I mean?’ I hadn’t meant to speak, didn’t want to turn my head over my shoulder and look at him. ‘Did he ever care?’
He doesn’t answer, though a flash of something crosses his gaze. Hurt? Anger? Whatever it was, it doesn’t stop him from widening the neck of my blouse to slide it from my shoulders.
‘Bravery is more than a skin you don, more than an armour of leather or lace. Courage can be found in the defiant lift of your chin or the catch in your breath.’
If he’d hoped to evoke memories, he has. Memories I choose to ignore. To refute.
‘Fuck you.’ My voice carries across the room, stern and full of denial.
‘You’re not an exhibitionist. You just like the idea of being caught. Sex in dark corners, straightening clothes not a moment too soon . . . Looking flushed and deconstructed somehow as we’d walked from that bathroom.’
‘No. You don’t get to do this,’ I answer, my molars gripped tight. Tears teeter on the edge of my lids as I refuse to give in. ‘You just get to watch the girl you loved, the girl you lied to, be screwed by another man.’
Shock hits his eyes first, followed by the grip of determination in his jaw.
‘Only if the Master says,’ he returns. ‘Your cue, Mr. Smith, I believe.’ His voice carries across the room as he steps away. ‘The lady requires help with the rest of her clothing.’
Behind him, Luke blinks quickly but doesn’t move, his shirt open and his trousers loose.
‘The Master says.’ Dan’s addition is quick, his expression under his mask pained, but maybe I’m the only one here to know him well enough to tell.
At this second direction, Luke makes short work of his clothing, and wearing only black boxer briefs, kneels on one knee behind me, a hand on my hip to balance himself.
