by Cee Smith
As I stepped out onto the main floor, my eyes were drawn up to the high ceilings with three chandeliers—one of which dropped lower than the bottom of the second story and just above the circular bar in the middle of the club. I walked past many high-top tables—some of which were already occupied. Beyond the glimmering lights of the chandeliers, I could see the partitioned area of the dance floor. The other side of the second floor was full of U-shaped booths.
“You new here?” The bartender with slick, raven hair and charcoal-colored eyes continued jostling the shaker while acknowledging me. Though his demeanor was calm, his movements were rushed as he ran back and forth between where I stood and the couple at the end of the bar.
“Yes. Can you tell?”
“Not really. I’ve just never seen you here before. Well…welcome to Socialize. If you don’t know, we have a two-drink minimum, and drinks are only allowed on the first floor.”
Curiosity piqued, I gazed up to the second floor once again. Nothing seemed to explain the reason for this rule.
“I’ll have a margarita please.”
“On the rocks?”
“Yep.”
He returned to the end of the bar to deposit a couple of drinks in front of the couple. I watched with curiosity as the couple picked up their drinks. Amused smiles graced their lips, as if they knew a secret that no one else was privy to. The husband tipped his hand back and the ice and liquid went sloshing down the glass to meet his lips, but I didn’t stay focused on the way his lips wrapped around the glass. It was the needy crawl of his hand, rubbing along his wife’s thigh that had captured my attention. His touch jerked with impatience, a dancing motion that seemed to make the woman’s entire body quiver with the same longing.
My drink was placed in front of me, but I only acknowledged the bartender once my fingers were already wrapped around the sweat soaked glass. The cold contents seeped into my skin until my arms erupted in goosebumps. Busying my hands, I raised the glass to my mouth and canvased the open area.
The hanging chandeliers made it easy to spot one face from the next. Upstairs was a different matter. The odd angles and limited lighting cloaked the room in a mysterious veil.
The alcohol burning its way down to my stomach reminded me of the lunch that sat uneaten hours before, when anticipation packed my stomach so full there wasn’t any room for food. My glass emptied, I was nowhere near drunk, but the edge was less razor sharp and more a blurred line. The desire to unlock the mysteries of the second floor pressed at me, and I wondered, do I dash upstairs or stay downstairs and knock back my second and final drink to take this blurred line a little farther into obscureness? The bartender stood at the other end of the bar chatting with a woman who looked at home in a place like this. I decided to let his unavailability steel my nerves and hobble down from the stool.
I circled the opposite side of the room, taking in the sight that I wasn’t afforded from where I sat at the bar. Everyone looked like this was an ordinary club. It felt like I had entered the twilight zone, what with the way everyone looked so at ease. Was there anyone else new here? Hushed conversations and polite touches made my body simmer more than it should have. There was an underlying energy to the place that had me revved up—just one indecent touch away from combusting into a solar flare.
The shadows called to me, luring me into its depths like brambles sinking into my skin and claiming me with a blood bond. The fabric of my dress hugged my skin like a tourniquet, clinging to my curves with every step. Like Linus with his blanket, I clung to the strap of my purse—my security in a place that would otherwise leave me reeling.
Thankfully, there were no odd looks or hushed voices to remind me I didn’t belong in a place like that. I was in the purgatory of sexual discovery, wanting nothing more than to be accepted there, with a man like Vett. I wanted to uncover the secrets of this place as thoroughly as I did the man who shared the same element of intrigue.
At 7 p.m., I hardly expected to see the club filled, let alone find the dance floor full of people. I rushed past empty booths, making a beeline for the opposite side of the room. I wasn’t quite sure a place like this would open so early, but it seemed to work for them. I worked my way through a couple women. Next to the two of them—with their trim physiques and still plump breasts on full display—my dress looked like church-ware. The shorter one grabbed the other by the waist, huddling her closer before they both looked up, eyeing a man across the dance floor. The unsuspecting man danced alone, unaware of the women who moved seductively to the music despite the glimmering hunger dancing in their eyes.
Comfortable in my spot on the dance floor, I observed the other side of the room, which had open booths facing the dance floor. The club had a perfect design layout. From that vantage point the people sitting in the booths could pick out those who sparked their interest. Like meat sitting beneath solid glass at the grocery store, there was a level of distance existing between the dance floor and spectators, made present by more than the physical distance between the two spots. I decided that the people on the dance floor probably realized they were part of the meat market, and maybe it was some type of signal to show they were open and available.
My eyes danced with the resonating beat, observing everything from swinging hips to swaying arms and bodies in various positions across the floor. I scanned for something in particular—or someone, I should say. I had yet to see Mr. Belford, and while I didn’t expect to see him on the dance floor (I couldn’t imagine he let that loose anywhere), I was sure I would have spotted him by now. Taking up a casual vacancy against the blockade surrounding the upper floor, I peered over to the area I’d yet to investigate—the booths. That’s where I found him—sitting alone in the last booth. The dark leather climbing up the back of his head casted shadows across his face, but I could make out his forearm and the burgundy oxford shirt he had worn at work earlier. Needing a better look, I inched closer while thinking up a strategy for my next move. Having found him alone, I wanted to make the most of what appeared to be a casual run-in.
Sliding along the iron banister, I conjured any thought to keep myself from screaming the reality of the moment. I was so close to him. A couple more steps and I would be almost directly across from him, in full view, wearing nothing more than an oversized Band-Aid.
Sitting alone, his fingers skimmed a tumbler of clear liquid. Molded to the curve of the booth, the impressive length of his body was obvious, despite half of him being concealed by the tabletop. The obstruction didn’t stop my eyes from tracing his legs down to the floor. Dragging my eyes back up, I landed on a pair of green orbs smoldering in a blaze of heat that was equal parts desire and fury. I tensed, snapping matchstick straight as a look of recognition swept across his face. Those eyes transfixed my feet to the floor and my eyes onto his. I was a fly caught in the spider’s web. I was supposed to be acting like I was curious, just another patron looking for a good time, but with those hypnotic eyes, I forgot everything but that very moment where breathing seemed optional.
Like water, he floated across the booth before stretching out to his full height. There was nothing rushed about his movements, but the tautness of his shoulders told me all I needed to know: Don’t move. Did my eyes say, I wouldn’t dream of it? Or was that my feet, which refused to budge? He walked closer to me, yet somehow I felt like I was the one being drawn in, a fish hooked to the end of his line, unaware of my fate.
As he drew nearer I could see how I’d misread his eyes. I’d read his body language as unaffected, but his eyes gave him away. He wasn’t nearly as unaffected by my presence as his body suggested. The bright green blackened, drawing tight into thin slits and decimating his tightly reined composure. It was the most unsettled I’d ever seen him.
When I was within arm’s-length, he pulled me by the arm, dragging me to a darkened corner away from the dance floor and surrounding minglers. For the first time his eyes broke contact, scanning the room as if looking to see if I was truly alone or i
f anyone had noticed our interaction.
“What are you doing here? Do you know what this is?”
Feigning ignorance, I spun around, taking in the entirety of the club.
“Yes. It’s a club. I was curious. I thought I’d check it out. What are you doing here?”
His eyes hardened and just like everywhere we seemed to meet, he wasn’t the one who answered the questions. He was the one who asked them.
“You can’t stay here. You need to leave.” The hand still clutching my elbow tightened as he pulled me in the direction of the staircase.
I shook my arm from his hold, “I’m not leaving, and we’re not in your office. You can’t tell me when to come and go as you please.”
The devilish twist of his lips halted the breath spiraling through my lungs. “You said you were just checking things out?” Those eyes ravaged me, pulling my dress apart thread by thread until every bit of flesh was bared to him.
“I’ll make you a deal, but it means you can never come back here again.” Not waiting for me to agree, he continued, “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
He left, and I suddenly became aware of the cold pervading this area, how it seemed to whoosh in like a placeholder for the man that set this place ablaze like a wildfire ripping through fields of dead grass, except there was no escaping this force of nature.
“Mr. Belford, where are we going?”
He led me through the lobby of a nearby hotel—one of those boutique places with glass and marble coffee tables and low-set steel chairs wrapped in plush fabric. He stopped abruptly at my question, bringing me up short, to the point that our bodies nearly collided.
“Tonight, you will call me Everett. Do you understand?” The bass in his voice thinned out, kissing across my face with the pungent smell of whiskey and an underlying note of mint. His breath still didn’t mask the overwhelming fresh scent of him, reminding me of sun-dried laundry and rainwater, or any other note that spoke of lazy summer days.
I nodded my head, my voice lost to green eyes that burned like absinthe in my throat.
“When I ask you a question I expect an answer, Indigo.”
“Yes, Everett, I understand. Now will you tell me where we’re go—” My words fell flat when Everett turned around, continuing on through the lobby toward the elevators, cutting off my question. With faux confidence I followed behind him, as if I were a part of his plan and this was just an ordinary Wednesday for me. The elevator doors closed, leaving us alone for the first time. My confidence wavered with the unknown. How many women had Everett brought to this same hotel? How many staff members knew of his proclivities? Maybe some of the hotel’s staff could give me some pointers.
Chiming our arrival, the elevator doors slid open, and once again I followed behind Everett. The hallway lights were a little too bright, nothing like the flattering chandeliers from Socialize—where the light contoured the roundness of my cheeks and the angles of my jaw. There I was revealed in a way that even the fluorescents of our office couldn’t compete with.
He pulled out a keycard and the light blinked green the same time the door clicked, the loud sound echoing in the emptiness of the hallway. Everett walked in ahead of me, stepping to the side just as he entered the room. I stepped in after him, looking around the sparse but clean room. The room was just big enough to hold a bed, dresser, and TV, without much room for anything else. Noticing there wasn’t anywhere to sit, I settled onto the bed.
“You don’t know me, Indigo, not really, but do you trust that I wouldn’t harm you in any way?”
“Yes. I trust you.” My mouth tingled as the words fell from my lips. The sheets beneath my palms beckoned me to lie down and prove the truth of my words.
“You know what that club is. What people who go to that club are looking for. Do you know anything about BDSM?”
“A little.” I didn’t want to remind him of my ex by speaking of what little I’d learned of the lifestyle from him. In truth, it wasn’t until I found Socialize and learned of Vett’s possible kink that I took an interest in learning more.
“Do you know what a dominant is?”
“Are you a dominant?” I rushed out in an attempt to hurry things along. I didn’t know what he had in store for us, but hoped it involved me and him using this hotel room, more specifically this bed.
“Yes and that will only matter in one way tonight. If for any reason you are uncomfortable or unsure about something, just say stop and this all ends.”
“OK.”
“Take off all your clothes and lie back down on the bed with your head on the pillow.”
I knew that when I stood my dress would still be clinging to the top of my thighs, but more unsettling was the fact that I got dressed with great care, molding myself into the dress like pulling jeans over skin still damp from the shower. This was the kind of dress you have to bend over and peel over your head until it inevitably ends up on the floor inside out and stretched beyond recognition.
Lifting from the bed, my hands moved to my shoulders, folding the top half of my dress down to my waist. My breasts bounced with freedom and the cold air assaulted my nipples, stiffening them into rigid peaks. Everett stood a few feet away from the bed, close enough that I could see the way his pupils dilated at my unencumbered breasts. Driven by his eyes to move faster, I wiggled around, contorting the material of my dress. Still struggling, I looked up to find him amused by the hard time I was having with my clothing. I refocused my attention on my heaving chest and the spot on the floor where my dress would lie once finally removed. I pushed down on the fabric sitting at my waist like an un-inflated inner tube and the rest of the dress and underwear bundled and fell to my feet.
I should have felt completely exposed standing there before my boss and I did, but I didn’t immediately get on the bed. Once again I stood hypnotized by eyes that made every nerve in my body snap to life like a glow stick.
“Get on the bed.” He was the snake in the grass aware of my every movement. With eyes that bore into mine and a body that reacted to my every impulse, he had to see the way my own body mirrored his desire.
With equal amounts of nerves and excitement, I hopped up onto the bed, maneuvering into the position he wanted. The sheets rippled, magnifying the nervousness that wracked my body—every tremble, every fidget was amplified across the ocean of sheets. I laid down with my legs tucked together and my arms spread out, wrists up, and my hair scattered like trampled straw in a barn. I watched behind heavy lids filled with desire and hesitation, longing and disbelief. My mind was a smorgasbord of opposing emotions running rampant. When I left my house little more than an hour before, I didn’t expect to have any real interaction with Everett, let alone be invited back to a hotel room where I would have him all to myself. I was still trying to wrap my mind around this when he took a seat on the edge of the bed.
The side of the bed dipped beneath his weight and he settled against my hip. The light brush of his clothes against my naked flesh caused my cells to go into overdrive, processing the sensation of feeling him so near. He leaned over me and heat waves burned from his chest, stealing the cool air that hovered above my skin like a storm cloud. Everett pulled the haphazard mess of my hair into two bundles, granting him unimpeded access to my breasts and stomach, which he admired with eyes imbedded in my flesh like talons.
Then he touched me.
His fingers were a thousand watts of electricity burning from my shoulder, coursing through the entirety of my body. It awakened every nerve ending until every molecule felt controlled by this one touch. Though Everett looked like the quintessential man’s man, his hands were anything but. They were soft, warm, and gentle in a way I would have never expected from someone who appeared to be rock solid everywhere else. My body wormed at the sensation, and I couldn’t deny the moan that lingered in my throat, waiting to burst forth the pleasure his touch produced. His fingers tickled down my left arm in a sensual touch that transcended the physical aspect of our encounte
r. My head felt light and my mind was numb to everything outside of his caressing hands. I was floating, and his fingers were rivers of water drifting over my skin.
Was this how he was with all of the women he picked up at Socialize? What about the woman from that picture I found online—the long legged blonde? Did she know the intimate kiss of his hands and how he could play my body like a piano? Every inch down my arm was a new key singing out for mercy, whether for more or less I couldn’t say, but I knew what my mind and heart wanted. They wanted his hands to push harder, to touch lower. I grabbed the word on the tip of my tongue—submit. That was what my body urged my mind to understand. My body wanted to submit to this man and every bit of pleasure he could wring from my body.
He brushed across my skin, his thumb tracing the blue veins crisscrossing beneath my bronze-colored flesh. He lingered at my wrist, above the starburst of lines that pumped double time with my galloping heart and wild thumping pulse. Before he could draw his hand across mine—where I could capture his hand to hold—there was a knock at the door. A soft rapping, quiet against the hollow wood, but loud enough to freeze the blood in my veins. I was not sure if it was my heightened nerves that rocketed me forward until I was sitting upright, or if it was the unknown person who waited on the other side of the door. Everett looked unmoved by the sudden knocking—which startled me even more. My chest heaved, pulling in buckets of air one gasp at a time.
“Relax, Indigo. Remember what I said.” His hand held firm against my breastbone. There was a slight pressure there, enough to let me know to sink back into the bed, but not enough to force me. I let his calming scent and refreshing eyes lull me into complacency, and I sank back into the mattress that relaxed me further. When Everett could see that I was at ease again, he spoke, “I’m going to answer the door, but remember what I said. This stops when you say so.”
