"Damien."
"Yes?"
"What kind of place?"
He was quiet, the city lights sliding across his profile as he drove. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped—that deeper register.
"There is a place," he paused. "A social club if you will, for people like us."
My eyes narrowed. "Dominants and submissives?"
"Yes, among other people. Other titles," he pulled to a red light, taking the chance to catch my eye. "It's where I met my friends in the lifestyle. The people who showed me the correct way to do things."
"You want to take me there?" My voice came out smaller than I intended.
"Only if you want to go. No pressure. Not tonight. I'd be just as happy ordering takeout in our pajamas. But I thought..." He trailed off, choosing his words carefully. "I thought it might be good for us. After everything. A chance to reconnect. To just... be."
My heart kicked hard.
A club. A real club. With other people who did what we did.
The thought terrified me. It also thrilled me.
"What would we do there?"
Damien's grip on the wheel loosened as the light turned green, his posture easing as he explained.
"Tonight I'd just like to show you around." He glanced at me. "Let you see that we're not as rare as you might think."
"And people like us will be there?"
"Exactly like us." He smiled softly. "Dominants. Submissives. People who've built relationships around this dynamic. Some married. Some dating. Some just... exploring."
I chewed my bottom lip, processing.
"I thought it might help," he continued, "to see it outside our bubble. To know there's a whole community of people who understand what we have. Who don't think it's—"
"Fucked up?" I offered.
He huffed a laugh. "I was going to say unusual. But sure."
The car slowed at another red light. He turned to face me fully, his expression open. Sincere.
"There are other submissives there, Emma. Women—and men—who've walked this path longer than you have. People you could talk to." His mouth quirked. "Maybe even find a friend. Someone who gets it."
"I don't need any more friends," I said defensively. "I have Candace."
"Someone you can commiserate with." The light turned green, and he eased the car forward, grin widening. "You know—for when your Dominant is being a dick and you need to vent to someone who won't call the police."
A startled laugh escaped me.
"What?" he laughed. "I can admit I'm not perfect. I have my moments." He shot me a look. "As do you, if memory serves."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Mm-hmm." His mouth pressed into a disapproving line. "I seem to remember someone yelling 'fuck your orders' at me not too long ago."
"I meant it too." I chuckled, the memory hilarious in hindsight.
