One Hot Night (9 page)

   
She accepted it and took a sip. It was
delicious and tasted expensive. She secretly looked the woman up and down—a
dominant, maybe? She suppressed a giggle at the thought. How very appropriate.
She took another sip. Maybe she would be hanging around for a little while.

   
She made her way down a purple-carpeted
hallway. Antique lanterns were hanging from the walls, lighting her way dimly.
All the way down, women stood stiffly in exact intervals, stone-faced and
silent. They were nearly nude, with only black leather pasties encrusted in
jewels covering their nipples, and skimpy black panties. All wore the same thin
black collars. At the very end was another wrought-iron gate, and Katherine
blinked, her eyes widening.

A tall woman in
black high heels, her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, stood with a
ring of keys in her hand. She was completely nude except for the collar, from
which a thin gold chain ran, stringing through two gold hoops pierced through
her nipples, and down between her legs. Katherine shuddered a little, quickly
imagining what else it was clipped to.

   
The woman moved gracefully, unlocking the
gate and holding it open. “Enjoy your evening, Mistress.”

   
Katherine walked quickly through the gate,
clutching her champagne with slightly rattled nerves. She stepped out, and
found herself in a huge, circular room. The floor was hardwood, and the walls
were all heavy stone, resembling a medieval castle. There was a marble bar in
the center, and a huge stage built out of stone jutting from one wall. At the
other end, a winding iron staircase led up to a balcony, and presumably
somewhere else as well. There was another wrought-iron gate in one section of
the wall, and Katherine wondered where it went.

   
She had a suspicion she might not want to
know.

   
She headed for the bar, still taking in her
surroundings. There were all kinds of equipment against the walls that she
didn’t recognize. There was an X-shaped structure made of polished wood,
benches covered in leather, and she noticed for the first time that the ceiling
had a strange suspension system.

   
“Here for the show?”

   
Katherine’s head snapped around, and she saw
that the bartender was speaking to her. “Oh, I’m just here for my friend. It’s
her first night. Bethany…er…Mistress Venus,” she corrected herself, the title
sounding even stranger as she said it.

   
The bartender grinned. “She’s my favorite,”
he said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

   
Katherine blinked.
Favorite? For what?
She had a sudden vision of the lean,
dark-haired man in front of her tied up on the floor while Bethany ground a
stiletto into his back…or something equally as strange.

   
“She’ll be part of the show tonight. You’re
in for a treat.”

   
Katherine wasn’t too sure about that. She
took a seat on one of the cushioned bar stools. “Glenmorangie, neat,” she
ordered, and the bartender grinned. “My kind of lady.”

   
Katherine didn’t know whether that was a
compliment or not. She took the glass he handed her and surveyed the floor. It
was starting to fill up. She remembered Bethany telling her that the show would
begin at midnight. The floor was swarming with people—women dressed in corsets
and tight pencil skirts, or short black or red dresses like the one she was
wearing.

She saw a couple
thin, model-ish women wearing black latex dresses. The men were wearing dark
jeans or black slacks, with button-down shirts partially unbuttoned. A few were
wearing blazers. A few were shirtless. She glanced at the entrance and saw a
woman walk in wearing an impossibly tight corset, and an ankle-length black
pencil skirt, her hair piled high atop her head and diamond earrings cascading
from her ears. Her heels had to be six inches high. Behind her walked a man in
latex pants, without a shirt. He was wearing a thick black collar, and a
leather leash was attached to it, the end casually held in the woman’s hand.
The light from the lanterns on the walls caught the glint of metal hoops
pierced through his nipples. Katherine knew she was staring, but she couldn’t
help herself. She had never seen anything like this.

   
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

   
The voice was smooth and deep, inches from
her ear. She turned to see who it belonged to.

   
A tall man sat casually on the barstool next
to her, a glass of clear liquid and ice in his hand.
 
Vodka,
gin or tequila?
He was dressed in dark denim, with a pinstriped button-down
that looked worn-in and soft. A navy blue blazer was over it, the sleeves of
the blazer and the shirt pushed up. The first thing Katherine noticed was that
all the buttons of his shirt were done.

   
The next thing she noticed were his eyes.
They were blue, a soft aquamarine color, sparkling against his pale, smooth skin.
His hair was light brown and artfully messy. He leaned a little closer, and her
skin prickled.

   
“Do you come to these sorts of things
often?”

   
Katherine shook her head. “I’ve never been
before, actually. My friend is one of the dominatrices here, this is her first
night in their show. I came for support.”

   
“Oh, so you’re a virgin.” He said the last
with a smirk and a soft purr to his words, and she shivered a little.

   
“I’m not…” she started to protest, and then
she realized what he meant—a virgin to this sort of thing. “Oh. Well, I suppose
so.”

   
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” He motioned
his head in the direction of the woman in the long skirt, who was at the
opposite end of the bar. The woman’s pet man was kneeling on the floor next to
her. She accepted her glass from the bartended and tugged sharply on the leash.
The man rose swiftly and gracefully to his feet, following her silently into
the crowd.

   
“I don’t get it,” Katherine admitted. “Why
would anyone want to follow someone around on a leash? It really doesn’t make
sense to me.”

   
“Some people enjoy submitting wholly to the
whims of others.”

   
“That sounds like slavery.”

   
“Well, it is, I suppose, in name. They do
call themselves slaves, or submissives sometimes, or pets. But it’s all
consensual.” He laughed. “I didn’t expect to be educating someone on the ins
and outs of this life here tonight.”

   
“Are you a part of it?” Katherine turned to
face him, her expression curious. “Where’s your slave…or pet, or whatever?”

   
“I’m absent a submissive at this moment.” He
lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Maybe I will find a new one tonight.”
His eyes caught hers for a moment. She shifted in her seat, feeling suddenly
warm.

   
“Good luck,” Katherine said, laughing a
little. “I hope you find someone.”

   
He didn’t stop looking at her. “I think I
might.” He motioned for the bartender. “Another gin and tonic for me, and
another scotch for the lady.” He took both glasses and handed her the
Glenmorangie. “Maybe I’ll see you later.” He leaned forwards, kissing her on
the cheek, and then turned, disappearing into the swelling crowd.

   
Her cheek tingled where his lips had
touched. She could smell his cologne hovering in the air, notes of sage and
tobacco and leather. She took a sip of her drink, savoring the heat and smoky
flavor of it in her throat. It had been a long time since she’d met a man with
such an arresting presence.

   
She almost hoped that she would see him
again.

***

   
Some time and another whisky later,
Katherine checked her phone. Ten minutes to midnight. She slid off of the
barstool, taking a glass with her, and started to move through the crowd,
looking for a spot near the stage where she could see Bethany when she came
out. She found a place in the front line of people surrounding it, and stood,
sipping her drink as she waited.

   
Midnight was announced by the heavy tolling
of bells marking the time. A large iron chandelier descended from the ceiling,
lit with thick candles. She couldn’t tell from the distance she was at if they
were real candles or not, but she suspected that they might be fake. Otherwise
wax would drip on the participants in the show.

   
Actually,
they might like that,
Katherine reconsidered.

   
A heavy door embedded in the stone wall of
the room swung open with a groan of iron hinges, and Katherine saw the woman
who had let her into the room walk forward, the gold chain catching the light
and sparkling. She ascended the stairs gracefully, moving to stand front and
center on the stage. A few paces behind her, a man in leather pants and a black
shirt, half unbuttoned, followed.

   
A whip made up of several tails of leather
attached to a heavy handle was in his hand. He snapped it, the tails hitting
the stone floor of the stage with a
crack
.
The woman didn’t so much as flinch, but Katherine could see her breasts
heaving. The man walked up behind her, one hand running down the side of her
waist.

Katherine saw her
skin tense with her reaction to his touch. Her mouth parted slightly as his
hand ran up her stomach, the other reaching over her shoulder. He tossed the
whip to the ground next to her. Both hands found her breasts simultaneously,
his fingers tweaking at the pierced nipples, the chain tightening as he toyed
with the hoops and then tugged them forward, straining against the pink spheres
of her areolae. His hands skimmed down her waist, one remaining on her hip
while the other dipped between her legs, spreading her pussy lips between them
so that the crowd could see the ring hidden there, glinting in the candlelight.
From her vantage point, Katherine could see the girl was wet. She was enjoying
it.

   
“Enjoying the show?”

   
Katherine flinched, turning her head and
gripping her glass more tightly to keep from spilling it. The brown-haired man
from before was just behind her, smiling rakishly. He was still alone.

   
“It’s…different.” Katherine said, raising
her glass to her lips. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest. The man on stage
was running his fingers slowly between the girl’s legs, stroking her softly. The
girl was clearly enjoying herself, her eyes glassy with pleasure, though she
remained motionless.

   
“Her training is impeccable,” the man
whispered to Katherine, his breath brushing against her ear. She shivered. For
a sudden moment, she imagined his hands wrapping around her like the man on
stage. Her nipples stiffened inside her push-up bra, and she was suddenly very
thankful for the layers of foam and fabric between her breasts and the eyes of
the crowd.

   
“I don’t think we’ve been properly
introduced,” he murmured, his warm breath still tickling her ear, sending
shivers down her spine. “I’m Andrew.”

   
“Katherine,” she murmured. “Pleased to
meet…” she turned suddenly, realizing why he had seemed familiar at first. She
had seen his picture in a profile her magazine had done. “Andrew Blake?”

   
He grinned. “The very same.” He took her
shoulders and turned her back to face the stage. “You’ll miss the show,
Katherine.” His voice caressed her name, and she felt her face start to flush
with heat. The man was having a hell of an effect on her. Or maybe it was only
the whisky.

   
The man on stage had stepped away from the
girl and reached for his whip. He flicked the tails out, letting them caress
the skin of her back and butt before taking another step back and snapping it.
The girl turned, and followed the man to a padded bench, placed horizontally on
the stage. She leaned over it, her abdomen squarely on the padding, and her
hands flat on the stone on the other side.
 
Her blonde hair fell down and around her face, obscuring it from view.
The man stood to the side, letting the crowd take in the view of the girl’s
firm, pale ass and long legs, displayed for them. He walked to an iron frame
hanging on the wall where he hung the whip up. Next, he took down a long thin
cane.