TAG
Janie’s light brown eyes are wide as I bring her into Salt. I try to see the place from her point of view, because over the past year, I’ve gotten used to the sights.
Brilliant spotlights of different colors shine down, slowly circling the room to alight on different couples and groups. I go up to the bar where Jaden, the bartender, is mixing drinks.
“Tag.” Jaden has to shout over the shaking of his drink mixer. His mohawk is lime green, and he wears matching eyeliner. “What’s up? Who’ve you brought with you?”
“This is Janie.” I lead her forward, keeping my hand protectively against her lower back. I don’t want her to feel abandoned or uncertain for a second in this place. It’s my favorite club, and I want her to love it, too.
Even if I can’t convince her to love me.
“Nice to meet you,” Jaden says. “I’m Jaden. Can I get you a drink?”
Janie looks up at me, as if asking permission. Does she know she’s a natural submissive?
“Get whatever you want, sweetheart. If it’s alcoholic, you have a one-drink limit.”
She orders a sangria, I order a scotch and soda. We hold up our drinks in thanks to Jaden, and I leave a tip on the counter. A sign says that all tips will go to an organization that advocates for runaway teens, so I leave a little extra.
I lead Janie through the room. At one spot, a skinny man stands completely still, a tray held in his hands bearing drinks and snacks. Several people sit in chairs around him, ignoring him while helping themselves to refreshments.
Janie watches for a moment before her attention is snagged by a woman lying over a spanking bench, wearing only a bra and panties. The woman’s Domme swats her ass with a paddle.
I lean close to Janie. “What do you think?”
“I could never hit someone like that.” Her eyes are wide as she speaks.
“Could you be the person on the bench?”
Those gorgeous eyes grow even wider. “I’m…I’m not sure.”
“But you’d like to try.” I say it with hope, but also a growing expectation.
Her cheeks turn pink with a blush. “Yeah.”
“I thought so. Let’s walk down the hall over here. There are some more private areas.”
As we walk, we go past small rooms. There are no doors, but everyone here knows that you aren’t allowed to step inside an occupied room without an explicit invitation. I’ve seen Christopher playing in these rooms before, always with a woman, almost never with the same one.
In one of the rooms, a man kneels in front of two women, alternating licking at their pussies. Each time he switches, the new woman grabs his hair and grinds against his face.
In the next room, a man seems to be directing a couple to have sex. He sits back, hands on his knees, and barks orders at them. “Fuck her harder—use your hips, Jake. Tracy, open your legs, girl. Let him fuck you deep.”
Janie watches for a long moment. I can tell she’s getting more aroused. She’s been turned on since we arrived, I think. But watching scenes seems to get her even hotter.
We pass a small room decorated like a college classroom, complete with a lectern and a few desks. After that, we pass a room decorated with various religious props, and then one made to look like an executive office. The way Janie pauses at the office makes me think she’s had feelings for Christopher for a while.
“This room will work.” I lead her into a stereotypical BDSM-style dungeon. It has a St. Andrew’s cross, a spanking bench, a sex swing, and a flat bench with restraints.
“Um…work for what?” Janie looks torn between examining the different furniture and props, and bolting straight down the hall and out of the club.
I sit down on the flat bench and pat my lap. “Will you sit here with me, sweetheart?”
Nodding, she perches on my knees. It’s not quite what I had in mind—I wanted her leaning into me, cuddling against my chest. But I haven’t earned that kind of affection from her.
“You wanted me to tell you, honestly, why I broke up with you last year.”
She nods. “But now I’m afraid of the answer.”
