So even if Ophelia hates me right now, there’s no doubt in my mind that, when the doors open, she’ll still come strolling in, the center of attention, determined to show me what an incredible mistake I made in wronging her.
Seven comes. The doors unlock. The music is going. People filter in and Princess checks names at the door.
I watch. And wait. And…Ophelia doesn’t show. Not only that, this is becoming a real?—
“Fucking sausage fest,” Carver complains.
Carver is a regular; he’s a top and a voyeur. He’s in his thirties, fit, and wears an assortment of name-brand attire, which is all to say: he never has trouble finding a partner for the night. Tonight, however, he’s pacing the lounge like a caged lion. He’s got a fidget spinner between his fingers, and he’s whacking it back and forth with such force, I think it might take flight if he releases it.
“Excuse me.” Jekyll, one of the femdoms, lifts a palm. “What do I look like?”
“Not you,” Carver says. “Thesubmissives. It’s like bottom-rapture all the sudden.”
I scan the crowd and take stock of the crew. Carver. Jekyll. The “Twins.” Hook and Lady Nine…
Carver is right. Whereareall the submissives?
“They’re probably at Sub Club,” Dorian says. The dark-eyed, glasses-clad switch has stretched himself out on one of the long, leather couches. He has a book in his lap, and his eyes don’t lift from the pages as he speaks.
“Sub Club?” I ask, curious despite myself.
“Sub Club.” Dorian turns another page. “Ophelia is having a submissives-only party at her place tonight.”
Ah. Of course she is.
I’ve hosted my club every Friday night for years. It’s no accident that Ophelia suddenly started a competing party for submissives at the exact same time.
She’s trying to get under my skin.
Unfortunately, it’s working.
“So the subs are, what.Rioting?” Carver complains.
“Take it down a notch,” Jekyll says.
He does not. “This is bullshit!”
Carver is frustrated. Although he’s being loud about it, I can’t blame him.
Like Carver—and many of the others here—this is my one time a week that I carve out for myself. It’s the one chance I give myself to blow off steam. Release all the stress and tension that comes with everyday life.
This is my escape. And tonight, all the doms have been dom-blocked.
Because of me.
“What are we supposed to do all night?” Carver says. “Fucking Parcheesi?”
“I’d be down,” one of the twins says.
Carver stops pacing. He points his fidget spinning hand at Dorian.
“Alright, Dorian. You’re the only switch here.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the play room upstairs. “Let’s go.”
Dorian finally lifts his gaze from his book, his eyebrows rising with it. “Dove and I don’t play with other people.” I watch the wheels turn in his head. I can see the moment he decides to take a bad situation and make itsubstantially worse. “Besides.” He closes his book. “Even if we did, you couldn’t handle me.”
Carver lifts a finger. “Come over here and say that to my whip, pretty-boy.”
The edge of Dorian’s mouth quirks upwards in a smirk.
