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“I asked what your parents think of you and Alice getting together,” said Fort, “considering how long you’ve been family friends?”
“Oh, Jesus. They don’t know we’re together yet. Like, carnally together. They think we’re still friends. Otherwise, they’d never allow her to stay at my apartment. They’d make her move to Chappaqua so they could shelter her from immoral urges,” I said, laughing.
“It cracks me up that your parents are so traditional.”
“Wait,” said Devin. “You said your mom wanted a love-and-romance name for the violin.”
“Yeah, because they want us to fall in love. They’ve wanted it forever.”
“So why don’t you tell them?” Fort said. “They’ll be so excited.”
“I can’t. Blue would lose his shit if she had to move out.”
“You’re both in your thirties,” said Dev with a snort. “I don’t think your parents can make either of you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“You don’t know my parents. Or hers. Her dad is this hulking Swedish type that I’m still scared of from my violin-lesson days.”
“You’re a mess.” Fort topped off my glass with the last of the wine. “Well, let us know about The Gallery. I know Juliet’s been missing it, and would love to go. If we all went, it would be a lot of fun, and Dev and I could run interference on all the pervs who were interested in the new girl.”
All the pervs. Fuck. That was the only thing about taking my new love to The Gallery. I’d shared women all my life, including dozens with Devin and Fort, but the idea of sharing Alice made my nerves go tight. Sharing had always been the height of kinky abandon for me, and Alice got off on the idea too, but what if I couldn’t do it?
I looked across the table at my friends, seeing them as rivals and interlopers for the first time. I tried to keep my thoughts from showing on my face, but I wasn’t sure I was successful, because Fort and Dev both buried their faces in the dessert menu, and we never, ever ordered dessert.
Chapter Sixteen: Alice
I checked the app on my phone, making sure I was going the right direction on Broome Street. Michelle’s studio wasn’t that far from Ella’s loaner apartment.
I had the uniform she’d made me tucked into the handbag under my arm. Lord knew the wispy thing didn’t take up a whole lot of space. It was beautiful though, and it fit perfectly. Michelle was a skilled costumer for the Met Ballet, and it showed in the quality of the seams and trim. There was just one problem: my legs turned out to be too long for the standard stockings she provided. She’d special-ordered some for me, and I’d asked if I could come pick them up, since I needed them by tonight.
Oh my God. Tonight.
I wanted to go to The Gallery. It was important for me to take this next step, to experiment with my sex-kitten persona. It brought me joy, and it thrilled the man I loved. When I modeled the uniform for him—sans stockings—he’d jumped all over me, squeezing my ass, running his tongue along the silver collar’s edge. As moments went, it was right up there with the night he showed me my finished violin.
Ah, my violin. It was beautiful, marvelous, perfect, but it still needed a name before I was allowed to register it for insurance, and play it publicly. I would have chosen I love you so much oh my God Milo I can’t believe I’m holding this amazing piece of wonder in my hands, but that was kind of long for Fierro’s records, and anyway, Luciana Fierro had the final choice, which she’d promised to make next week when we visited. I didn’t know why she was taking so long. I’d played the instrument for hours every night since he’d given it to me, sometimes naked, at his request.
I’d come to love catering to his requests.
I found Michelle’s building and rang up. As she escorted me into her workshop, I felt the same illicit thrill I’d felt the first time, when Milo had brought me to be measured. She was a kind, businesslike, slightly older lady, but her workshop would always feel like a hot-as-hell sex den to me.
“It’s wonderful to see you again,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for coming by to pick these up. Did you bring the rest of the uniform, so we can make sure everything fits?”
“Yes, I’ve got it here. Should I change into it?”
“Please, if you don’t mind. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
I shed my top and put on the bra first, arranging my nipples within the peekaboo cups. It made me think of Milo’s obsession with hurting them, and my nipples went rock hard in response. I slipped off my panties next, while she puttered around with a coffee machine, perhaps to give me a sense of privacy in her wide-open workroom. Not that I’d have any privacy at The Gallery, from the official page of rules he’d shown me.
Number one: All submissives must be accompanied by a sponsor who will manage their conduct and care. No unsponsored submissives will be admitted.
Number two: Any submissive brought into The Gallery shall be considered communal property and shared in any way her sponsor desires.
Number three: The Gallery is a no-safe-word zone. The submissive’s limits will be determined by her sponsor.
Number four: All submissives must strictly adhere to The Gallery’s dress code.
Number five: Any submissive not agreeing to these terms may not be admitted to The Gallery. Any resistance or refusal of these rules is cause for immediate expulsion from the premises.
“Almost ready?” asked Michelle as I finished buckling on the last thing—the collar. She slid an approving look over the bra and garter belt, which flattered my angular body shape. “Aren’t you a tall, graceful beauty? Let’s try those stockings. I’d kill to have your legs.”
I stepped into the soft, silken stockings and pulled them up my legs, then stopped. “Can you help me work these things?”
“The stocking clasps? Sure. They’re easier to use than they look, especially when the stockings are the right length.” She showed me how to attach the decorative clasps to the upper parts of the stockings, lining them up so the suspenders laid straight. When that was accomplished, she straightened and nodded in approval. “You see, it looks so much better when the stockings are the right length, because they don’t pull down on the garter belt and ruin the balance.”
I clasped my hands in front of my waist, excited, embarrassed, and happy at once. “Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure. Would you like to see the whole outfit? Well, except for the shoes. They’ll make your legs even longer. Milo will be so pleased.”
She turned her standing mirror so it caught my reflection. I stared at myself, at pale skin and black lines crossing over it. My face looked scared. I laughed as soon as I noticed it.
“I’m nervous,” I confessed. “I’ve never been to a BDSM club, much less a private, exclusive one.”
“Oh, a lot of the women I outfit are nervous,” she said kindly. “Then I see them at The Gallery a few weeks later having a grand old time. And Milo’s a fun one to go with. He’s known for his creative mind.”
This woman knew more about Milo playing at The Gallery than I did, but not for long. He might be nervous about taking me there, about how I would react, but all I wanted was to know everything about him, the good, the bad, the normal, the weird, the scary. “Honestly, I’m not even sure he wants me to go,” I confessed, “but I don’t want him to feel like he’s keeping secrets from me, or that he has to hide what he’s into.”
“Well, you’ve read the rules, haven’t you?” I nodded and she smiled. “So you know what he’s into. What about you? Are you a masochist as well as a submissive? Are you into pain?”
“Yes, definitely. Well, not all pain. Just sexy pain.”
“Everything’s sexy at The Gallery,” she assured me. “I think you’ll have a transformative time there.”
“I hope so. I think I will.” I took a final look in the mirror, touching the collar at my neck. “I guess I should take this off now.”
“I wouldn’t wear it home, if that’s what you?
?re asking. Here, hand it to me as you take it off, and I’ll fold it up so it stays nice for tonight.”
When I left a few minutes later, my uniform was once again tucked in my handbag. I had a concert to play with Met Orchestra tonight, and we’d go to The Gallery afterward. As far as I knew, his friends were meeting us there, but beyond that, I had no idea what would go down. I didn’t want to build up any hopes—or fears. As long as Milo was with me, everything would be okay.
Chapter Seventeen: Milo
I leaned against the counter, watching Alice primp for the evening. She was fresh out of the shower, applying makeup in the nude. It took everything I had not to molest her as she leaned over to put on black eyeliner. I needed to save those urges for The Gallery, or we’d end up very late.
“Is that eyeliner waterproof?” I asked.
