With my hair up and my inhibitions lowered, I entered Red with Spencer on my arm, feeling a persistent thump in my chest. The familiar sense of excitement that always came when I breeched the threshold took over, filling me with so much anticipation, I feared I would burst.
“Welcome, may I take your coats?” asked the rather beautiful worker manning reception.
His appreciative gaze settled on Spencer and lingered there for quite some time before moving towards me. He smiled, then returned his attention back to my man, unashamed in his ogling.
“Of course,” replied Spencer, helping me out of mine before seeing to himself.
He handed them over, missing the young gent by a mile.
“A little to your right, baby,” I directed, offering up my services.
He did as instructed and smiled when the coats were taken from him. “Thank you.”
We quickly flashed the unapologetic admirer a smile and carried on down the corridor, stopping at the club’s loud entrance.
“Shall we stop for a drink first?” he asked, desperately reaching for my hand.
“Are you sure?”
He’d once said dark spaces and loud noises were his worst nightmare. So, why would he suggest this?
“Of course,” he insisted. “I want to do this. I want to be brave. For you.”
The low beat from the music vibrated through my body, thrilling me in ways I couldn’t comprehend. I was never one for dancing in my teenage years, yet here I was, desperate to move my body. Desperate to feel the rush that came with doing something completely out of character. I also wanted to see Spencer succeed in chasing away his many demons and figured that in order to do that, he needed to withstand this place longer than ten seconds.
“Give my hand three squeezes if at any point you want to leave,” I instructed, pulling him towards the bar.
Marble stretched for what felt like miles, gifting the overall space modernity and elegance. It was unusual to see, though certainly not unwelcome. As far as the eye could see, people danced, mimicking moves deemed only appropriate for the bedroom. The act of seduction was prominent throughout, embedding itself in my mind.
“Two cokes, please.” I shouted to the woman behind the bar.
Soft drinks were on the agenda. It wasn’t in our old contract per say but rather an unspoken agreement Spencer and I had when it came to us practicing this lifestyle. Neither of us were big drinkers anyway but maintaining a sober mind during scenes was extremely important with regards to our safety.
“Coming right up.”
I watched as she prepared our drinks and kept Spencer’s hand in mine the entire time, unprepared to leave go. We couldn’t talk over the current song and I found being somewhat limited in communication was agonising. His body language had yet to relax, but I sensed his need to carry on, so for that reason I remained firmly in place. Doing this meant more to him than a simple drink. This was his way of telling the universe to fuck off and mess with someone else. That he would not be confined to the safety of his home on a daily basis and that he could look after his daughter.
“Is that everything?” asked the barwoman.
“That’s £5.40 all together.”
I went to grab my purse, only to realise I had left it in my coat.
“Here,” stated Spencer, handing over his credit card like the true knight in shining armour he was.
It was swiped and accepted in a matter of seconds, saving me from a potentially awkward encounter.
“Cheers!” I yelled, offering him his drink.
I still kept my hand in his, uncomfortable with how badly he was shaking.
“I’m okay,” he insisted, but he wasn’t.
Not in the slightest.
“Follow me,” I instructed, offering his fingers an encouraging squeeze.
I led him towards the flashing dancefloor, making my way past a few semi-naked bodies on my travels. A few looks were sent my way but I chose to ignore them, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“Close your eyes,” I shouted, resting my forehead to his.
The added few inches I had from wearing ridiculously high heels gifted me just enough height to level my head to his, perfect for my intentions. I pressed myself closer to his body so that he could feel all of me and joined him in closing his eyes.
“Do you feel that?” I asked, raising my tone.
“The music,” I began. “Do you feel the beat in your chest? The vibrations?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you feel me?” I continued, kissing him.
It started off slow and sweet but soon turned into something far more fierce, bordering on inappropriate. Still, everyone else seemed to treat this room as one giant sex-fest so why couldn’t we?
“I feel you, bellissima. Do you feel me?”
He deliberately thrusted his hips into mine, offering me his excitement in the form of on an unforgiving bulge, alongside a manly grunt.
“Yes, sir,” I wheezed, feeling every ounce of tension leaving his muscles.
We continued to dance, locked tightly together in our embrace and never once let up. After what felt like hours of swaying, I looked up to find Spencer starting straight up at the ceiling, happily moving to the beat of the music. I didn’t interfere, nor did I move. I simply watched as his expression mirrored that of total freedom and relished the feel of being the one he held so close. Huge hands encased my back, protecting me from anyone brave enough to try and his arms, locked in place, kept me safe. A small smile broke out over his lips and I swear in that moment, my heart broke a little bit. Not because I was sad but because this man–my man– was faced with a daily reminder that he was moments away from losing everything, yet he still managed to find the good in everything. He still managed to smile, even though, at times, it seemed all the odds were stacked up against him. He never let the pressure get to him and if he did, it was short lived. He fought with everything he had and I loved him strongly for it.
“You’re my forever,” I shared, directing my statement down his ear.
His gaze suddenly snapped away from its staring position, following the sound of my voice.
I rested my hand on his chest. “My forever. I’ll forever want you, love you and long for you.”
He smiled, “Forever.” he repeated, dipping his head lower to offer my lips a quick peck. “Thank you for doing this. I forgot how great it feels to let go.”
“You don’t ever need to thank me,” I assured. “I knew how important this was to you. I wanted to help.”
I noticed the dancefloor was becoming more packed and suggested vacating to the bar for one last drink before carrying on with our intended plans. Spencer agreed and upon ordering two more cokes, tucked me under his arm. There, I felt protected against anything and took to looking around the room out of curiosity. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and simply enjoyed the sights that presented themselves to me. People everywhere were in their element, whether that be as a dominant or a submissive. Men and women were respected here and unjudged for their preferred tastes. I hadn’t put much thought to it before but I really did value this community. No one ever drew attention to the fact that many saw our practices as disgusting because to us, it wasn’t. BDSM was about trust and commitment. It was about being in tune with your needs and acting upon it. As a society, we disregarded what we didn’t fully understand and made unnecessary assumptions. Being a part of this community didn’t make us fucked up. I’d once thought it had. I’d put it down to my mother’s condition and Spencer had talked a bit about his lack of control when deciding his life’s path. Sure, our past was what brought us to this exact moment but I refused to accept that we were like this because we were mentally seeking some greater good. We were like this because we simply craved the level of commitment that came with having a partner so dedicated to you. Someone that would literally do anything to make you happy. I’d found that with Spencer and I knew how lucky I was.
“You’ve gone quiet on me,” he stated, propping my chin up using his fingers.
I looked up and smiled, just about ready to reply when something stopped me. To my right stood a woman with strikingly pale skin and long, black hair. Her attention was set on the bar in front of her, though her mind appeared miles away. She had yet to place her order and seemed in no hurry to do so.
He gently caressed my back, having sensed my nervous energy. “Baby, what is it?”
“Remember that time I saw Alister with a woman?”
“She’s here. She’s stood right next to us,” I explained, careful as to not draw attention to my words.
Adrienne kicked up a storm in my body and I just knew I couldn’t let this opportunity pass us by. This woman may have been the key to finding out information about the real person behind Alister’s fake facade.
“Can I just say how lovely your outfit is?” I gushed, approaching the woman with a fake confidence I was shocked to have acquired.
She was startled at first but soon acknowledged my compliment with a friendly smile.
Her gaze briefly flittered towards Spencer and a small smirk graced her lips. She didn’t seem at all put out by my presence and her audacity pissed me off.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” I mentioned, touching her on the arm in a gesture I hoped was comforting. “Is this your first time?”
I feigned naivety and did so by adopting an air of innocence about me that I didn’t know existed. I upped my enthusiasm and downplayed my manipulation.
“No, it’s not my first time. Yours?” she asked, matching my gaze.
Her bright blue eyes were full of intrigue and seemed to showcase genuine interest.
“Yes. It’s a little intimidating, isn’t it?” I smiled, wanting her to feel confident enough to open up to me.
“It is at first but you’ll get used to it,” she ensured, glancing to Spencer once again.
I studied her outfit, surprised by how conservative it looked. It was still seductive in its own right but far less revealing than most. Her white blouse tucked neatly into her leather shorts, buttoned up precisely at the neck. Her legs went on for miles and were covered in fish-net stocking; temping, yet subtle.
“I didn’t catch your names?” she questioned, polite as ever.
“Oh.” I giggled. “I’m Kelly. This is my master.”
I figured it was best to withhold our true identities and gestured towards Spencer, who responded by offering my head a quick kiss.
“Well done. It’s always wise to use a fake name in here,” she shared, seemingly impressed. “I’m known as Lucinda.”
She was far too observant.
“Lucinda. That’s unusual,” I said. “Who came up with that? Yourself?”
No.” She smiled, as if suddenly lost in the midst of a fond memory. “My first sub did.”
“He stupidly does use his real name,” she admitted, shaking her head in displeasure. “Alister never does seem to consider the consequences of his involvement in BDSM.”
In an instant, my jaw draped open, displaying sure signs of shock. I looked to Spencer who simply stared at the woman in front of us, or at least tried to in his unseeing state. His face had paled and the painful expression he held spoke a thousand words.
Lucinda was a dom and Alister, her sub.
What the fuck?