Page 4 of Hard Ride
I make my way to the large alcove down the back of the club, where the Dominants tend to gather. A huge, black leather sectional sofa lines the walls of the space, with a couple of low coffee tables in the center. Mistress Nell is there, sipping a martini, looking fine in her tight leather corset dress and six-inch red stilettos. She’s going to be providing a Domme demonstration, and she’s on stage next.
“Looking good, Tate,” she purrs as I sit down. Scott, one of her subs, is behind the bar, and he’ll no doubt be getting me the vodka neat that I like after a scene. “If you’re not careful, someone might want to introduce you to the joys of being a switch.”
Relaxing back against the couch, I smile at her. This is an old game we play, and we both enjoy it since neither of us has a submissive bone in our bodies. “Sure,” I say. “Ladies first.”
She gives a delightfully dirty laugh. “You’re such a tease. Looks like a good crowd tonight, though.”
I glance over at the stage and the newbies surrounding Lucas, listening intently as he explains the club rules. It’s a sea of white bracelets, naturally.
“Yeah, not bad for the first night,” I say, smiling at Scott as he approaches with my drink. He smiles back but lowers his eyesin deference as he places it on the table in front of me. “Thanks,” I say, and then, to reward him, I add, “Your sub has very pretty manners, Mistress Nell.”
Nell is clearly pleased, and so is Scott by the looks of his grin as he turns away. “And a very pretty cock too,” she says, watching admiringly as he leaves.
Only the performers giving the demonstrations are in their fetish gear tonight. When he’s behind the bar, Scott normally wears a pair of tight leather trousers and nothing else, and when he’s not behind the bar, it’s a leash and a cock ring. Now, though, he’s in formal black slacks and a black T-shirt.
Nell takes another sip of her drink, eyeing the crowd. It’s newbies only, so most of the regulars aren’t here, which is fine. But for the kinky among us, everyone’s very conscious of themselves and their roles, so the atmosphere is different. It’s more constrained. No one wants to scare the horses, so to speak.
Nell and I talk shop for a few minutes, then she puts down her drink. “Show time,” she says and rises gracefully to her feet. She’s small, but her authority packs a punch, and it’s on full display as she stalks towards the stage. Her other sub, Amy, is already kneeling there, waiting.
At the end of the night, Lucas and I will meet with the others on the team to talk about how the night went, and I’ll get some numbers. I’d like this to be a regular event so there’s a safe space for people new to the scene. Nothing like exposure to be good for a business, after all.
I’m still sipping meditatively at my vodka, watching Nell do her thing and the crowd’s reactions, when my attention strays to the bar area, a flash of red catching my eye.
I don’t have a type, per se, but I do have a certain…weakness for redheads. And that is indeed a redhead sitting at my bar. She’s small and neat in her corporate suit of dark gray, her hair in a tight bun on the back of her head. She’s sitting with anotherwoman, her head turned away so I can’t see her face. The other woman, a blonde, is also wearing a suit, so they must have just come from work, or maybe after-work drinks. A spur of the moment visit, likely enough. But the redhead is…familiar.
I narrow my gaze, studying her, and then it hits me, the impact like a fucking crossbow bolt to my chest.
It’s Katherine.MyKatherine. After so many fucking years, here she is. At my fucking bar. In my fucking club. What the hell is she doing here? Did she see me just now on the stage? Does she know that I’m here at all? Is thatwhyshe’s here?
But no, she can’t have seen me, of course not. She wouldn’t be sitting on that goddamn barstool so comfortably if she had.
I’ve never forgotten how she walked out on me ten years ago, and without so much as a damn word. I was too demanding, too intense, and too young back then to know how to deal with either myself or her, so I had to let her go.
But after ten years and a fuck ton of growing, both mentally and emotionally, I know myself better now. I channel my demands and my intensity into the boardroom and into the dungeon, where they’re valued and needed, where people want them, where they get off on them, and where I can indulge myself in a safe way that won’t hurt anyone.
No, I’ve never forgotten how she walked out.
I’ve never forgotten her.
After she left, I swore to myself that when I was ready, I would find her. I would convince her that I was different, that I’d changed, and I still wanted to be with her. And I am different in a way. But my essential nature is still the same: I’m Dominant. Possessive. Controlling. And in the dungeon, I can be who I am, with people who are the right kind of afraid, and I won’t ever conform myself for another person’s comfort again.
Which means I should stay where I am on the couch. I should definitely not approach her in any way, because if she couldn’t handle me ten years ago, she definitely couldn’t handle me now.
But then I see her freeze on her barstool, every muscle of her tight, and her friend has noticed and is putting a concerned hand on her shoulder. Yet Katherine shakes her friend’s hand off, and slides from her seat as if looking for escape, and I know all at once why she wants to escape.
She’s seen Lucas.
Except he’s standing in the crowd, blocking the exit, and if she wants to leave, she’ll draw attention, so she goes in the opposite direction.
Towards me.
3
Katherine
Holy fucking shit. My heart is racing, fight or flight kicking in. I didn’t think when I slipped off the barstool; all I wanted was to escape. Because Lucas Thorneishere, of course, he fucking is, and it’s just my luck that he saw me.
We must have come in just after something had happened on the stage, because there were plenty of people milling about in front of it, and a couple of guys dressed in black moving strange looking furniture around on it.
