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Chapter 1
Claire
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I must be insane.
Curious eyes, partly obscured by delicate masks, trail across my half-naked body, as the patrons of the Velvet Rooms walk past me. Some of them linger, while others merely cast me a quick side-eye, before they turn their attention back to the pretty girl hanging on to their arm. They all look like they belong here, the men dressed in black attire, wearing suits or even tuxedos, while the women are showing a lot more skin, most of them decorated with racy lingerie or silky see-through dresses that leave little to the imagination.
None of them appear to be the least bit uncomfortable, their heads held high as they strut through the lavish hall, the women swaying their hips seductively with every step.
I feel like a fish out of water, standing with my back pressed against the wall, as I scan the room, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone. My shoulders slouch, like they always do when I don’t want to be seen, and I fight the magnetic pull to the floor, as I force myself to straighten my back and keep my head up.
Where is he?Is he here, yet?
He told me to wait here for him. He said he’d find me.
I feel painfully exposed in my sheer white baby doll dress, wearing nothing but a lacy thong and matching white stockings underneath, balancing on ivory bright fuck-me heels that lift me off the ground by almost ten inches. My fake lashes are framed by a lacy mask that adorns the area around my eyes with intricate embroideries in the same color. He told me to wear all white, but he wouldn’t say why.
My attire is a stark contrast to the sultry darkness that envelops the room. Crimson red velvet curtains drape from the ceiling to the floor, creating a sense of grandeur as they frame the walls. The rich, deep red hue contrasts with the dim lighting, casting a warm, romantic glow throughout the space. Fake candlelight flickers from ornate golden fixtures and sconces.
I never imagined it to look like this. I had never even heard of The Velvet Rooms, until he suggested meeting here. Today’s event is a masked ball—akinkymasked ball—and today is the day when I finally get to meethimin person for the first time.
I don’t know his name. I don’t know what he looks like, at least not his face. I have seen almost every other part of his body, but never his face. I don’t know who he is. I don’t know anything about him, other than one thing: He is a pleasure Dom.
I found him on a dating website for people with „unique preferences”, as they called it. And by unique they mean kinky. It’s a place for Dominants to find their plaything—and for submissives to find their Master. I don’t even know if this term applies to me. It’s not like I have any experiences I could base this on. I just know that I’m different. That there’s a craving inside me, a craving that I have yet to understand.
And he said he’d help me with that.
We’ve been chatting for a couple of weeks now, and while we never shared any personal information, we did share a lot of other things. Ideas, dreams, wishes, expectations—including the most intimate kinds.
It was his suggestion to use this event for our first meeting. He even paid for my ticket—which I could never afford on my own—and he assured me that this is a safe space. It’s public, but it allows for things to happen, if that is what we want. If that is whatIwant, as he made abundantly clear. I can say no at any time.
I try to calm my nerves with that knowledge as I wait for him. I’ve only been here for about five minutes, but it feels like an eternity, with my heart racing and my mind twirling with anxiety.
This is crazy. I can’t believe I’m actually here.
School is about to start again, and I told myself that this would be the one big last hurrah of my Christmas break, when I agreed to meet up with him here tonight. Next week, I will go back to working on my Master’s degree at Harvard University, and start my job as a teaching assistant, but tonight, none of that matters.
„What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by herself?”
The voice rips me out of my contemplations, and I turn to my left, startled to the core. A man in a black suit, at least twenty years my senior and with graying hair, is standing right next to me, way too close for comfort. He flashes an assertive smile at me, his teeth whiter than the fabric that envelops my body. He’s wearing a plain black mask that gives him the vibe of an aged Zorro. There’s an instant lump in my throat and I follow an instinct to move away from him.
Is this him? Please don’t let it be him.
„I’m…I’m waiting for…someone,” I stutter.
„Yes, of course you are,” he says, moving closer, while the grin on his face widens. „You’re waiting for a man, aren’t you?”
I nod, mute, with my lips pressed into a thin line.
„Well, here I am,” he goes on, and a cold shower of apprehension rushes down my spine, when he lifts a hand to move a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
My heart sinks. What have I gotten myself into? How could I be so stupid? He’s so different from what I expected. So much older, and so utterly creepy…
„The lady is with me,” another voice intervenes, and my heart skips a beat, when I look up to see where it’s coming from.
It’s as if he appeared out of thin air. He towers over the other man by at least three inches, a tailor-made tuxedo hugging his broad shoulders, his dark blond hair gelled to the side, and piercing green eyes peeking out through the elegant mask that covers the upper half of his face. The mask is curved at the edges and clings to the lines of his high cheekbones so perfectly that it looks like it’s been tailored to match his features. Even with the mask on, I can tell that he’s out of this world handsome. A strong jaw, cleanly shaved, with not even a single stubble in sight, and his lips curved into the hint of a smile when he looks at me.
„If you’ll excuse us,” he says, speaking to the other man, while his eyes remain fixated on me. He’s holding up a flute of champagne, and when he hands it over to me, the other man finally takes a step back and vanishes into the dark without another word.
