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Anthony has been a member of Anchored for a year now. He loves it here. It’s his favorite place to play. He’s been exploring BDSM since we were in law school, and although he’s offered to bring me here many times, I’ve always turned him down.
I’m not even completely sure why.
Perhaps it’s because Anchored seems like a closer-knit community than some of the other clubs. At the places I go, it’s easy to slink in and out of the club unnoticed, undetected. It’s easy to find an anonymous partner for the night. It’s easy to find someone to play with or to just sit and watch. It’s easy to stop coming for awhile and then start back up.
There’s no commitment required.
Anchored is different.
You have to pay monthly membership fees to come to Anchored. In my case, Anthony got special permission from the owner to bring a guest. If I want to come back, I’ll have to cough up the money for membership dues, go through a medical health check to make sure I’m clean, and undergo a psychological assessment.
Health and safety is taken seriously at Anchored.
Since I’m a guest tonight, I’m not even allowed to play. This is part of the reason I’m drinking. If I was going to pick a submissive for the night, if I was going to find a woman to play with, I wouldn’t be touching alcohol. I wouldn’t have anything to do with it because I wouldn’t want it to impede my judgment.
When I play with a submissive, I want her to have my full attention and understanding. Even if we’re only together for one night, I want to know she’s completely taken care of. That’s the beauty of Domination. My submissive gives herself wholly to me and I take and I take and I take, but then I give back so much more. She gives me her body, her mind, and her soul, but I give her pleasure she’s never imagined, pleasure she’s never even dreamed about.
I give her everything I can possibly give her, and then I give a little bit more.
“What do you know about how tight I’m wound?” I ask because I can’t help myself. I shouldn’t poke Anthony, shouldn’t prod at him to get snarky with me. I know perfectly well that he’s right; I’ve been a bitch to deal with lately. Still, hearing it from my friend stings a little, and I want to talk about it.
Anthony doesn’t respond right away.
The thing about being a good lawyer is that it’s not just about knowing the law. It’s not just about memorizing legal jargon. It’s not just about researching previous cases to establish legal precedent.
It’s so much more.
One of the most important qualities of a good lawyer is being able to observe people, to read them. In the courtroom, a good lawyer needs to be able to read the faces of the jury. Are they on your side? Are they believing what you’re saying? If they aren’t, you need to change whatever it is you’re doing in order to sway them to your side.
It’s not just courtroom lawyers who need to be able to observe, though. If a new client walks through the doors of my legal firm, I need to be able to tell if they’re lying to me. I’m more than happy to talk on cases that are complicated or tricky, but I won’t deal with clients who lie.
Not to me.
Not to the person who is trying to help them.
Now, Anthony is looking at me, sizing me up. This doesn’t offend me, but perhaps it should. We’ve been friends since law school. We were roommates during school and we’ve worked together ever since. Edgar & Berstein LLC is an incredible law firm, and I’m thrilled I get to call Anthony my partner in crime. We work well together, and I trust him more than anyone else in the world.
“You haven’t had a serious relationship since Felicity Dashner.”
“There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”
“You were going to marry that girl.”
“I was planning on it,” I sip my drink. “I think she had other plans.”
Felicity Dashner was my girlfriend all throughout undergrad and my first two years of law school. Then, the summer before my final year of school, I found out she was cheating on me with my friends.
All of my friends except Anthony had slept with the woman I loved.
She was smart enough to stay away from my roommate.
That wouldn’t have ended well for her.
“She broke your heart,” Anthony clarifies. “And you’ve been afraid to love ever since.”
“What do you know about love?” I say. “No offense, brother, but you’re just as single as I am.”
“I’m happy with my life,” Anthony says smoothly. I know he’s being honest. He’s not the type of guy who settles down. He’s never really been interested in that. No, Anthony is more interested in making money, working out, and going hunting than he is in settling down with one woman.
