His gaze was steady on mine. “Slaves don’t say no.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Part of me wanted to push, because the idea of Taylor doing something he didn’t want to was icky. But at the same time, I thought I knew where he was coming from. Frankly, it was easier to do things when you told yourself you had no choice.
It was like buying a cake that was on sale, because it’d expire the following day. So you got to lay on the couch and stuff your face without guilt or second thoughts because you hadno choicebut to finish it by midnight, otherwise you’d be wasting food.
If you were someone’s slave, you had no choice but to stay close to them, to talk to them, to kiss them, to get on your knees for them, to fall into bed with them…
“Okay,” I said. “It’s a deal.”
Taylor hid in his room for the rest of the morning, probably to savour his last few hours of freedom. At twelve on the dot, he came out, wearing a grey cotton t-shirt that made his shoulders and arms look good, dark jeans, and black runners.
“You look nice,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious in my oversized shirt, sweat-pants and hair I let air-dry.
“One of us has to look good.” His face did something weird as soon as he said it and he looked down at his feet.
“Right.” I patted my pockets to check I had my phone, wallet and keys. “Let’s go.”
Taylor was right on my heels as we left the dorm. He hovered as I locked the door behind us, and I inhaled something clean and almost sweet.
I turned to him, almost banging my head into his. He was way too close.
“Are you wearing…cologne?” I asked.
“No,” he snapped, crossing his arms. “Hurry up.”
CHAPTER NINE
The Punishment
“When you said cute activities,” Taylor said, “I wasn’t expecting this.”
It had been an hour bus ride from campus into the city, and after navigating some sketchy-looking alleys, we arrived in front of a store that had a LED sign in the window that readadults only.
“I’m sure lots of people come here on dates. Bet you didn’t know this place existed.”
“Where do you think I bought that collar?” Taylor asked.
I glanced at him, unsure if he was joking, but he returned my gaze with a steady look. Well. I couldn’t be surprised.
We entered the shop, which was hushed and quiet, reminding me of a church. A lady sat behind the counter, reading a novel. She looked to be in her fifties, her arms covered in tattoos, and didn’t look up as we passed.
“What should we get?” I murmured as we walked through the shelves. I was grateful there were no other customers around. Despite my bravado, it was kind of embarrassing being here, but maybe that was just my own immaturity.
“You came here without knowing what you wanted to get?” Taylor demanded.
“Why are you so pissy? It’s an adventure.” I led him down an aisle, past brightly coloured wigs and displays of polyesterlingerie, arriving at a selection of costumes packaged in plastic packets. “Wow,” I said as I took it all in. “So much choice.”
“Is this for you or me?” he asked.
“For you, of course,” I said. On one side were costumes for men: police officer, fireman, doctor. Boring. The other side featured costumes for women: nurse, librarian, school girl —
“Ah ha!” I said, snatching up the French maid costume. The black dress was decorated with a white apron and copious amounts of frills and lace. I held it up for Taylor.
“No.”
