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Montana strode toward the elevator and pressed the button. “No, I’m saying she knows who the killer is.”
* * *
The vibrant energy of the city enveloped his entire being. He eased down the street toward his destination. Burning desire consumed his soul. He remained unnoticed as the crowd of revelers passed by. They were already drunk or high given the lateness of the night.
The dark evening hid his features, even as he passed by the neon and flickering signs. Shockoe Bottom was alive with activity, but no one cared about the man moving past. He glanced at the star filled sky. While there was no moon, the flickering stars presented by a crystal clear sky were invigorating. He walked to the end of the block, turning down a side street.
A single light over the entrance was the only indication the club existed. There was no name placard or any indication of the kink fest going on behind locked doors. He’d been inside only twice and both times had left him sated, something he desperately needed.
After a single knock on the thick steel, he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. The burly man who opened the door gave him a once over and held out his hand.
Slipping a hundred dollar bill in the bouncer’s hand, he shifted and walked by him without uttering a word. Money could buy anything, especially anonymity. The hallway leading to the festivities was obscure, as if on purpose. He stopped just inside the main portion of the club, drinking in the atmosphere. Scantily clad men and women were lounging on the laps of those holding the reins, or in this case leashes secured to collars. The pecking order was clear.
He was offered no more than a glance or two as he walked toward the bar. Observation was his strong suit. Tonight he would find the perfect slave. The woman would be dazzling but submissive, a girl looking to engage in a taste of the lifestyle.
Chuckling, he slid next to the bar, ordering well-aged bourbon and remaining in the shadows. This was his job for the evening, a command performance. While he loathed being handled, tonight he was in his element and desperately hungry.
He scanned the perimeter in search of the perfect specimen. She appeared within minutes. The lovely girl seemed unsure of her surroundings. While he couldn’t be certain, she appeared to be alone. She was certainly dressed the part, adorned in a tight leather skirt and crimson corset. She was voluptuous. Perhaps some would say she was fat. To him, she reeked of submissive need. She was a woman no one would miss.
He licked the rim of his glass before taking a sip. She would no doubt do as he asked. Inhaling, the combination of sweat, perfume and cigar smoke was a powerful aphrodisiac. He’d certainly come to the right place, at least on this night. Complications he didn’t need.
She flitted through the crowd, but her actions were stilted. Fear was evident by her shallow breathing and beads of perspiration covering the top of her lip. After several minutes of attempting to engage any man in the crowd, she shrunk into the shadows. She lowered her head as she walked closer to the bar. No one wanted to play.
His keen hearing was able to detect her groans and whimpers of self-admonishment. He swirled his glass and waited. There was no reason for him to be in a hurry. After all, he had all night. She would come to him.
He turned his attention to the floorshow, sickened by the meager attempt to display a flogging. The young man strapped to the cross couldn’t be more than twenty-one. The kid flinched as the henchman reeled back, grandstanding for the crowd.
Crack!
The leatherman slapped the bullwhip across the floor, creating an echo as well as cries of pleasure. It seemed everyone was ready for a hard punishment.
He chuckled and scanned the perimeter of the expansive room, recognizing more than one patron. If only friends, family and co-workers knew where their husband, attorney or minister was at this moment.
Groups of people clapped and whistled, egging the leather clad dude to whip the young man. He grew disgusted. This wasn’t anything but a showcase of bad behavior. He finished his drink and ordered another just as the whip sliced across the boy’s naked flanks.
“Jesus.” The girl’s exclamation was one of disdain. She bit her ruby stained lip and hovered against the bar.
“This isn’t what the lifestyle is about,” he said with no inflection. He didn’t bother to look in her direction, but he sensed she was keenly aware of his presence.
“I hope to hell not. I mean…” Nervous laughter skittered from her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
He glanced in her direction. “I think you understand. This is a club full of wanna-be’s, those unable to handle true forms of domination and submission.”
She remained quiet as she studied him. After a few seconds she smiled. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Then why are you?”
“I…I don’t know actually. I heard this was a hot establishment.”
“You mean you scoured the Internet, determined to find a place you could be yourself. By day you’re a perfect PTA mother but you fantasize about so much more.” As the words dripped from his mouth, she became captivated.
Blushing, she fanned her face. “Hardly perfect.”
“Then you’re telling me that all you want to do is go home and crawl underneath the covers, forgetting your inner desires, needs sweeping through you every day?”
“What?” Her question was a whisper.
He turned toward her, concentrating on the tattoo of a heart decorating her shoulder. He loathed those who violated their bodies in any way. Adornment was meant during servitude. Still, she was unversed at the requirements of a true D/s lifestyle. “You long to have a man in charge and always have. Conventional relationships are boring, unfulfilling. Isn’t that true?”
