When she left for the evening she was thoroughly exhausted and a bit irritated. A strange hush hung over the streets as she trudged home, she could feel it. It felt like everyone and everything was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Sassy greeted her with a long lick and an even longer whine. “Oh you poor thing,” Sophie said, cuddling her pet close, “You need to go out, don’t you?”
She took her to the closest park, allowing her to run until the twilight cast dark indigo and purple mantles over the statues in the park and the quiet faces of the buildings. They stopped at a cart for dinner, Sassy barking excitedly when Sophie ordered hot dogs and French fries for dinner.
When she opened her wallet to pay her eyes fell on the slickly laminated card she had been handed at the club. It read, quite simply, Sophie and had a number printed below it. The card seemed to blare up at her, she looked over at the other cart patrons guiltily, wondering if they had seen it and knew where she had been. She found herself wanting to say, “I was there by accident, I was running from a killer,” but that bizarre urge passed almost as soon as it made itself known.
Dinner in hand, she and Sassy strolled back to the apartment. Sassy gulped hers down and then gave her owner’s meal a hopeful look, yipping excitedly when she was given a few extra fries. With dinner over Sophie tried to read but she put the book back down after scanning a few pages without interest. Loneliness set in, bringing depression with it and her eyes drifted back to the picture of Susan.
Three weeks before her suicide Susan had come home again. She had spent four days in bed, drying out. When she had gotten up she had been a mess, pasty and exhausted. Her hair had been snarled and oily, her eyes circled by yellow and brown bruises, the remnants of black eyes.
Sophie had hurt for her, and missed her even then. She had missed the beautiful blonde girl with the big grin and the f**k you attitude that had walked into her life and befriended her when she had needed someone the most.
Sitting at the kitchen table, her needle tracked arms showing all too clearly in the bar of sunlight that had poured through the window behind her, Susan had asked, “Do you think you will unfreeze long enough to realize that love happens, even if you don’t want it to?”
The question had come because Sophie had broken up with the guy she had been seeing and Susan thought it was because Sophie was afraid to let anyone in. At the time she had thought that Susan was wrong, but at that moment she wondered if she had been right after all.
She had left her old life behind, she had moved to New York City and yet she was doing the very same things she had done in her former apartment, hiding away and reading about love and life instead of getting out and trying to find those things.
She went into the bedroom and picked up her purse, pulling out the card. Her heart beat painfully and she slid it back into her wallet, then she yanked it out again with an almost convulsive gesture.
The things she had seen at the club burned through her shyness, burned through her fears. She didn’t know why but she needed to be there, needed to see those things again. She dressed hurriedly, putting on a pretty dress and thin sandals, remembering the doorman’s growled words about her clothing when she had run in the last time, she had a feeling if it had not been for Kane she would have been turned away. Her heartbeat accelerated, wondering if she would see him there.
That thought shook her, and she realized that she wanted to see him. In fact, she had never wanted to see anyone so badly before in her life. She put on a little eyeliner, eye shadow and mascara and surveyed her face critically. Susan had given her a tube of glossy scarlet lip stain and she put some on, then she rubbed it off, embarrassed.
She put on a second coat and stared at her reflection, torn between self-doubt and a small sense of bravado. The makeup made her look different, older and bolder. She looked at her hair hanging in soft black waves to her shoulders and then went back to the closet, trading the modest little pastel colored dress for a green sheath that glowed like an emerald against her pale skin.
“Oh that is ridiculous,” she said, then took the dress off and threw it on the floor. Three seconds later she picked it up and put it back on, scolding herself for being a coward. She changed the shoes out for higher heeled ones and then took her car keys and went out the door.
She rarely drove the car anymore, the city had great transportation and parking fees were outrageous. The street outside her apartment had parking but she was afraid if she moved someone would take her spot and she would have to pay those high rates. On that night though she was terrified that someone would look at her and make her feel afraid, make her run back home again and more than anything else she did not want to go back to her apartment and hide.
***
Kane gave up on trying to work. The FBI was coming in the next day, the Captain had given up hope that he could handle the serial killer in house, and Kane already knew he was going to have to deal with his past in a major way when the Feds came in.
He paced his living room, fighting hard against the urge to go to the club but he could not hold off any longer. He dressed in solid black: black jeans, black silk button down shirt, heavy boots that gleamed with polish and then he packed his toy bag. He was not sure why he did; he didn’t really want to play with anyone.
“Oh yes you do, you want to play with Sophie,” he jeered at himself. “Admit it, she touched something in you. And you would like very much to touch her back.”
He packed the violet wand on a whim, it was not really his favorite implement but he took it anyway and then he jumped in a cab, heading for the club.
***
Sophie rang the bell and waited, trepidation setting in as the camera swiveled its one blank eye toward her face. She almost left, sure that some disembodied voice would tell her no but instead the door clicked open.
The man behind the counter barely gave her a glance, she stood there for a second, unsure of what to do, and he barked out, “Your membership and ID card, please,” startling her. She fumbled for those items, passed them over and he gave them a glance than added, “Twenty dollars.”
She paid the twenty; he stamped her hand and waved her on. The music was so loud behind the doors that when she put her hands out to push them open they vibrated like living things under her fingertips.
She stepped inside the club, her eyes adjusting to its dimness, and a rush of something expected hit her. It had been a long time since she had felt that feeling but not so long that it was so alien she could not name it. When she stepped inside the long room, she felt like she had just come home. It was an odd feeling, and an unsettling one. She glanced around and her eyes stopped on a woman wearing a long black coat, fishnets and pumps with heels sharp enough to double as an ice pick. The woman knelt at the feet of a man whose hand rested lightly on her bowed head. When he stroked her hair and spoke softly she looked up, a smile lighting up her entire face.
“I want that,” Sophie thought, and her face went warm as she noticed several people eyeing her appreciatively.
Kane walked in and the first thing he saw was the woman in the backless green dress. Her back was to him, he stared at it, at the long and clearly delineated column of her spine, the creamy white skin, the delicate slope of her shoulders, the black hair that brushed against those shoulders and the curves that were her hips. The dress could have been poured over her; it clung without being tight, lying against her skin.
She turned slightly, ruby red lips parted to reveal small and even white teeth and he smiled back.
“Hi,” Sophie said shyly. Between her legs her p**sy felt heavy, full and warm. Her mouth was dry and she could not help but notice the way Kane’s shirt emphasized his broad chest and flat belly, the way his jeans clung to his lean h*ps and long legs. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, showing a triangle of golden skin, skin she wanted to put her nose up against and sniff. She wanted to inhale the rich manly scent of him.
“I’ve converted you.” He was hoping to sound like he was not happily surprised to see her but he failed. A huge grin had lifted the corners of his mouth and he knew, knew, that no matter what else happened during the night he wanted her.
“I...” she wasn’t sure what to say. She was slightly afraid he would call her out as a fraud and she didn’t want to leave so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “You have a really big bag there.”
Kane laughed. If it had been any other woman he would have known she were flirting and wanted to see what tools he had brought with him to the club, since it was Sophie he knew she was simply trying to make small talk. “You could say that. Are you planning to play?”
She blinked. “Play…what?’
“Play,” Kane said and his hand raised, waving around the dungeon,” that’s what we call it, play.”
“Why play?”
“It’s certainly not work.”
The joke made her laugh. Her eyes went back to the people who were tied to the crosses and the woman on her knees, tethered to a small metal loop that resembled a croquet wicket whose ends were buried in the concrete floor. She had placed her head on the leg of the man who stroked her head from time to time and her eyes were closed in what looked like utter bliss.
“Play is just a generic name.” Kane said. “Everyone has different ways of playing.” On one wall a man stood nude while a woman cracked a long and scary whip across his ass and back. “Some like it rougher than others.”
“What if…what if you don’t know how you like it?”
“You explore until you do.”
A blush stained her cheeks and she ducked her head, he had to strain to hear her next question, “And, how do you know if someone is willing to play with you?”
Kane felt his breath catch in his throat. “You simply ask them.”
She nodded. “Do you want to play with me?”
“I would love to.”
The constant mistrust she felt tried to rear its head and change her mind, but she fought back, refusing to allow the past to prevent her from taking a step forward, a step she wanted so badly to take. Kane saw the conflicted emotions on her face and he found himself wondering what damage she had suffered, what had happened to make her so afraid. He knew that most people coming into BDSM for the first time had trust and fear issues, hers ran deeper and it was obvious.
“Okay,” she said finally.
He took her hand and a small shock ran through him at the touch of her warm skin. He hadn’t been so excited in a long time and he could feel the envious stares aimed at his back when he led her into one of the semi-private rooms that lay scattered around the central room.
“Why is everyone watching us?” she asked in a whisper.
He had hoped she hadn’t noticed. He set the bag down on the chair, looking around at the small massage table and the spanking bench that occupied the room.
“They don’t recognize you. Many people prefer newcomers, especially new subs. They call it the Dominant Dog Dance. They like the new ones because they don’t know how to say no.”
“Why would someone say no?”
He turned to face her, “Because sometimes you have to. If something hurts you, goes beyond your limits, or if something feels wrong, you have the right to stop it. If someone is doing something you didn’t agree to you have the right to stop it.”