Chapter Thirty-Three
LOUISE
When Flo had said the mysterious den was at the back of the club where I’d first met Dan, I assumed that was where the entrance would be; a dark curtain and burly minders, watching the entry at the rear somewhere. Not so, it seems, as Luke leads me into a different street and another entrance. A huge black door flanked by topiary bay trees that stand sentry. Tall sash windows sit on either side of the door, the heavy drapes inside drawn closed. For the world, it looks like nothing more than a genteel Edwardian home.
Inside, in the vast hallway, we’re encouraged to hand over our cell phones to a hugely built dark-suited man. Each is then receipted and locked away. Relief washes over me, the implications of a camera phones suddenly obvious. It’s true I’m here to expose myself in some way, but I’d be glad for footage not to make the internet.
I sign a waiver, my hand shaking, my mind unable to process the fine print. Next, in the black and white tiled hall, is a large table adorned with masks. Some are elaborate, some no more than a scrap of leather or lace. The attendant mentions that this isn’t standard form, more a theme for the evening. I find I’m glad of it as she encourages both Luke and I to choose a mask. He opts for one that covers the upper-half of his face, something oddly feline about the thing. I choose something in silver with rhinestones, something completely against my usual tastes. It occurs to me that I’m trying to disassociate myself; a mask, my clothing. And though I’d admit it to no one, anticipation of the evening causes a pulse to beat between my legs. Will I fuck this evening just to spite him? Make myself known, ripping off my mask to let him see that I’ve moved on?
An arched doorway stands open, and we enter, my heart seeming to try to escape from my throat. The room looks like an elegant drawing room. Lots of tactile fabrics; velvets and brocades. A little Parisian bordello in theme, a small bar situated discreetly at one end. Edwardian style sofas are dotted around the room, maybe two dozen guests already making new acquaintances inside. The lighting is low and intimate. Candelabras stand at intervals, providing the major source of ambience, and a fire burns in the large hearth.
We stand by the fireside, carefully avoiding areas where others stand in small groups. Soft music plays in the background while champagne and oysters are served. I drink but don’t eat, my stomach overcome with nerves. At one point, Luke says I look a little pale and laughingly suggests I swallow a little zinc.It’ll help my colour. Though he hides behind his laughter, it doesn’t take much to realise he isn’t talking about the salty molluscs being served. The possibility of me fucking him becomes more distant each time he opens his mouth. So I tell him.
Obviously, he protests; he hadn’t meant it that way at all. Sure, asshole.
Champagne hits the spot, though doesn’t quell my nerves, especially as two couples—no, make that one couple and aménage à troisseem on the verge of making an early start.
‘Wanna have a wander?’ Luke asks, expectance lightening his tone.
‘Why? What will we see in other rooms?’ I grip the stem of my glass tighter in anticipation, my eyes avoiding his and scanning the room. I feel a little expectant myself. But not for what, but for who. Maybe it’s a little silly to expect Dan to be here on this night of all nights. But I’m resolved now. I’ll carry on regardless. And I’m more than a little curious to see what he’d hidden from me. Chalk tonight up to revenge or to moving on. Either would do. Because how dare he expose me—bring to the surface the things I’d tried hard to ignore. Things that would’ve safely remained theory, if not for him. Some people don’t want the moon on a stick. I fear being one of them. Some people prefer the stick alone. And once that knowledge is free, there’s no restraining it.
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.’
