“But if he does, you could stop dreaming and start making sweet music together.” He plays the air guitar. “Bow chicka wow wow.”
I laugh. My head nods.
“Seriously, Quinn. Life’s too short not to take risks. Besides, I don’t think you’d be taking much of a risk. I’ve seen the way Stefan looks at you. He likes you, which is why I haven’t booked a session with him.” He strokes my hair while I recover from the cataplexy attack.
It’s a couple of minutes before I feel able to talk. “Maybe I will.”
“Maybe?”
I smile. “Okay. I will. If I find the right time.”
Rubin rolls his eyes. “You have to make opportunities, not wait for them to land in your lap. If you wait for the perfect time, you’ll never confess your love.”
“I like him. I don’t love him.”
He pats my shoulder. “Whatever. Are you sure you don’t want to come to The Library?”
“I’m sure.”
“And you really don’t want me to stay?”
“Positive. Go and have fun.”
“Okay.” He hugs me and then leaves me alone.
A minute later, I hear the front door close.
I drag myself out of bed and go to the en suite to splash cold water over my face. I have illustrations to do, so I’ll work on those for as long as I can before sleep takes hold again.
2
STEFAN
I have half an hour between each client to make sure my dungeon is spotless and to take a break. It’s not long, but I’ve always seen it as a good thing. Much longer and I’d fall out of the headspace I need to be in to do my job and bring paying subs to their knees. I only allow myself to come out of that persona at the end of the night once my dungeon has been cleaned after my last client. I’ve seen two people already. One newcomer, who I’m fairly sure will come again, and a regular Saturday client. To end the night, I have Sophie, another sub I see often. She’s the manager of a bank and, after a high-stress job during the week, likes me to help her relax.
When I’m ready to receive her, I leave my dungeon and go up the stairs and through the door into the main bar area. From my side, the door is obvious. From the bar, it’s hidden as part of the bookcase. The Library leans into its name in its aesthetic. When I first started working here, the thing that amused me the most was that the books are all real. You can pluck a book off the shelf, sit in one of the wing-backed chairs, and read if you want to.
Sophie is sitting at the bar, sipping iced water. There aren’t any alcoholic drinks, but there’s a wide choice of non-alcoholic ones, including some imaginative cocktails, all with library-themed names. My favourite is Grape Expectations, a dark mocktail made from grape juice, cranberry juice, and soda water over ice. I only indulge when I’m at The Library for pleasure.
Sophie is wearing a dress that’s made of black elasticated straps that wrap around her body. There’s a sheer piece of fabric at the front, forming a halter neck. It’s partially see-through, but one of the black straps conveniently goes over her nipples. She’s teamed it up with black suspenders, fishnet stockings, and six-inch heels. The neck of the dress has an O-ring attached.
Before I approach her, I sweep my gaze over the dance floor. I can see Hendrix dancing with two men who are twice his size. There’s no sign of the rest of my housemates, but I do spy Rubin dancing with another twink. Quinn isn’t with him, which probably means he didn’t make it tonight. I feel a pang of disappointment. He tends to look amazing when he’s at The Library. One day, I should tell him so.
The moment Sophie sees me, she puts her drink down, hops off the barstool, and hurries to kneel at my feet. She bends over so her chest is brushing the floor and rests her head between her palms.
I make her wait for a good two minutes. “On your feet.”
“Yes, Master.”
I clip a thin leather leash to the O-ring on her dress, turn so the leash is over my shoulder, and start to walk towards the secret door. I don’t feel even a hint of a tug on the leash, letting me know she’s keeping perfect pace with me.
When we reach my dungeon, I unclip the leash. “Shut the door behind you and then kneel on the mat.”
While she does that, I go and sit on a large, padded chair. It’s black, like most of the rest of the room, and is the most comfortable piece of furniture in here. There’s a padded mat in the centre of the room, which is where I ordered Sophie to kneel. Within seconds, she’s closed the door and is kneeling on the mat, feet under her arse, knees and thighs together. Her hands are crossed behind her back. Her head is up, but her eyes are down so she’s staring at the floor at my feet.
Again, I make her wait while I sit comfortably with one leg hooked over the other at the knee. I rest my elbow on the arm of the chair and touch my curved index finger to my lower lip. She doesn’t move until I utter another command.
“Attention.”
