Page 29 of For Love & Torture
Betty reaches out to shake his hand, and he moves his off my shoulder to shake hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” She pulls a small, Lone Ranger type of mask out of her pocket. The girl is always prepared. “If you’ll allow me to put this on for you, it’ll help you to not be recognized by anyone here.” She glances at me. “Did you tell him about introducing himself to the others yet?”
“Not yet.” I watch his hand as it snakes by me, reaching out to take the mask from her outstretched hand.
He stupefies me as he hands it to me. “Put this on for me.” An order, not a request.
Taking the slip of fabric, I shoot a look at Betty, whose mouth is hanging ajar. No one talks to me this way, but this man isn’t aware of that just yet.
I have to balance on my tippy toes to reach his face to place the blindfold on him. He might be lacking in manners, but he isn’t lacking in height. “Our members introduce themselves as mister and whatever the first letter of their last name is. So I’ll be introducing you as Mr. M.” With the blindfold tied, I step back and look at Betty. “You get to cover my office while I’m gone, Betty.”
“Not a problem, Isabel. I was out on the main floor a little while ago. It’s a packed house tonight.” She winks at me. “Mr. J. will be surprised to see you out there.”
“Yes, he will.” I turn to walk out of her office. “But this is part of my job, showing around new prospects.”
Bart’s hand moves back to rest on the small of my back and I can feel his warm breath against my ear as he leans in close. “Is this Mr. J. enamored with you, Isabel?”
“He’s my boss, sir. He doesn’t like me to be out on the floor. He likes to keep me up on a pedestal, a place where men don’t get any ideas about me.” I walk down the long hallway with the man right at my side and push open the door to the main room.
A gust of cool air hits me as the door opens into the den of iniquity we’ve built together. “My, my. Now, this is exactly what I thought it would be like in here.” His hand moves off me as he rubs his palms together. “I don’t get to play yet, do I?”
“Not yet, sir.” I take one step forward and find his hand on my arm, holding me back.
I look at him, finding that his brows have knitted together as he frowns at me. “Sir? Have you so quickly forgotten my name?”
“Not at all. It’s our practice here to call all men sir. And if you recall, you’re not going to be giving out your full name to anyone. Not yet, Mr. M.” Giving him a smile to cool his temper, I hope he won’t give me any trouble.
We don’t often get new members as we filled up rather quickly during the first few months of opening. I’ve only taken a handful of men around to show them the club. But this one is the most daunting by far.
“I see. Carry on then.” He lets me go, but that hand goes to my back once more. “Have you dabbled in this scene, even though you have no Dom?”
“Of course I have. I worked with one of the owners to write the rules that all of our members have to follow. And I’ve studied the different types of play extensively. I had to, it’s my job.” Making my way through the thick cluster of people, all of whom are clad in masks, I see the huge banner that was put up earlier this afternoon. I point it out to Bart. “At the end of this month, we’re having a Halloween Ball. It’ll be the first of what will become a yearly event. There’s going to be a slave auction that night, and many of our couples will be doing scenes. It’s sure to be a fun time.”
“It’s been years since I did anything for Halloween. That sounds like fun. I too have studied many forms of play. What are your favorites?” He takes my hand in his, stopping me once more to make me look at him and answer a question he shouldn’t be asking me.
“I haven’t done any type of play in about a year. That’s behind me.” I give him a curt smile and move on, making him let go of my hand. “Would you care for a drink? It’s on the house.”
“Only if you’ll join me.” With a fluid move, his arm is suddenly around my waist, and he pulls me to sit at the bar with him.
Mike, the bartender, comes straight to me. “Well, hello. Fancy seeing you here.” He gives me a smile and nods at Bart. “Name your poison, sir.”
“Tom Collins, make that two of them.” Bart takes a seat next to the one he sat me on. His dark eyes roam the room as he sits backward on his stool and leans his back against the bar. “This is truly something else, Isabel. Like something out of a dream.”
Mike places our drinks on the bar in front of us and gives me a wink as he nods his head in Bart’s direction. I just shake my head slightly. I can see he thinks the man is keen on me—which I know he is, but I’m not available.
Sipping my drink, I look out at the crowd I so seldom get to see. Men in tuxedos, women in various styles of dress—from fancy gowns to barely anything. Some are on leashes, some are on their hands and knees as their Doms or Masters carry on conversations as if they’re not even there. “A dream you say? I think it’s more like a nightmare.” I was enamored with the club at first. But since I’ve been cooped up in my office, it’s no longer fun to me. It’s all work and no play.
Bart’s fingertips run over my hand as he takes the glass out of it, setting it on the bar. “Nightmares, like scary movies, can be fun. You should allow me to train on you, Isabel. I want to become the best, and I think I can be that with your help. I can see it in your eyes—you yearn to feel the tightness of the rope around your wrists and ankles. You ache to feel the thud of a paddle on your ass.”
It’s true, I do have yearnings. But only one man can do those things to me and make me like them. Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not available for that. I can help you pick a female that will love all the same things you do. That’s what I do here. Nothing more than help the members find compatible partners to explore this world with.”
“Then why do I see the need in your eyes?” he pushes me further.
Before I can conjure an answer, I feel a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Looking up, I find Grant eyeing Bart. “Hi, I’m Mr. J., one of the owners. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, mister…?”
“M,” Bart answers then looks back at me, daring to run one finger over my chin.
Grant’s hand on my shoulder tightens. “He’d like to become a member of your club, Mr. J.” I lean back, so Bart’s finger drops away from my face. “I’m showing him around the place. Are there any scenes coming up?”
Grant reaches past me, picking up my drink and taking a sip of it, taking it over. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want me to lose control with Bart.
Jealousy… Maybe that’s the key to making Grant deal with how he really feels about me.
