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It doesn’t.
She’s not here anymore.
Good.
CHAPTERSIX
MORRIGAN
The soft light reflects off the leather that barely covers my body and the five chains wrapped over it. I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror for too long now, and here, in Lulu’s apartment, dressed this way, surrounded by the smell of jasmine that always seems to gravitate around Lulu herself, I feel more like myself than I have in months. Disregarding the couple of weeks since…the announcement.
That’s how we refer to it now, Lulu and I—the announcement. Impersonal. Cold. It allows me to detach from it, like it has nothing to do with me.
I check the wig again, making sure it’s unmovable, the bobby pins tight. I chose to cover my easily recognizable ginger with sleek black, such a contrast against my pale, freckly skin. Not that it will matter much in the gold light of the club.
I love black. It somehow gives me a confidence I seem to have lost in the last few months. And since blonds are more memorable, I would rather live in the shadows, as the silent partner that I am. I can just blend in as any other employee.
I slide my fingers over the leather of the two extra decorative thin straps that meet between my breasts, down two of the four that meet from the underside, to a two-inch gold ring that sits in the middle of my torso. From there, four more straps spread to the edge of my leather panties. The five gold chains are connected to this ring as well, two over the straps that meet between my breasts, two around my waist, and one straight between my legs, up my ass, until it connects to the same point as the waist chain. A thin, see-through, long lapel jacket covers the minimal ensemble, a subtle gold sheen catching the light, and the thigh-high velvet boots make me feel less naked.
“Going to the toilet is gonna be a bitch in that thing.” I turn to Lulu, and it takes a bit too much effort to reassure myself that I’m straight.
“Fucking hell, woman!” She wears a floor-length leather skirt that would be tight if not for the two slits on the front of each leg, right up to the velvet waistband, which clinches her waist. A velvet bra covers the rest of her, with straps wrapped around her neck, and the bottom band wraps behind her back before coming around to the front, where it’s tied into a cute bow. It’s simple, but damn… every man in that club will want to see what’s behind those slits that make her legs look as though they go on for miles. “You look incredible, Lu!”
“You too, love. Look at you… those straps. You’re gonna fucking kill it tonight.” She comes next to me, and we both turn to the full-length mirror, admiring our work.
“I’m nervous,” I confess.
“Because of the party, or the dance?” She tucks her icy blond hair behind her ears.
“Both.” I exhale as I pick up the mask from the side table next to the mirror.
“Yeah…” Lulu nods and picks up hers, and we help each other strap them on.
We chose venetian inspired masks, with black and gold details, from the same collection. It’s not as if we wouldn’t recognize each other in the club, but it made us feel better that even though I will be pretending to be a random member of staff, we’re actually on the same level. My mask comes to a point at the tip of my nose and, from its lowest point between my eyebrows, it curves upwards above each one, to a sharp point in my hairline. Lu’s is the opposite, curving down her cheeks and raising into one sharp point just above the middle of her forehead, close to the hairline.
They fit.
We fit.
She smiles at me, and I feel like I’m swallowing my heart. This is it… months of work have come down to this moment.
“I think it’s time to go.”
* * *
My heels fallheavy on the hard floor, slow steps taken between the small crowds that stand in front of the wall-to-wall windows, so deeply enthralled by the couples that put up shows in the playrooms, that no one is talking to each other.
Some sway to the lascivious music, some couples rub on each other, some are simply lost. Lost in the images they witness, in the way the flesh trembles and the skin reddens when the leather paddle hits, the way the arm muscles tighten as they pull on the straps of the St Andrews cross, the way eyes roll to the back of the head as the orgasm shakes the body, the way a cock spasms at the pull of his balls when his mistress denies his own. Each and every spectator is either lost in themselves or the beautiful acts they see, and two of the rooms aren’t even occupied by the people we specifically invited.Thatis a success.
I step into the main club, the bar to my left surprisingly not as busy as the rest of the floor. I was expecting people to huddle there, however everyone seems to be relaxed, enthralled by the show one couple we met in Rosston is putting on up on the main stage. Others are joined in intimate dances between the busy tables, and at the back of the space, the opposite side from the bar, the shadowed tables seem to be full, most likely with people enjoying more private exhibitionism.
The whole atmosphere is loose, comfortable and enticing—so much better than we hoped this night would be.
“I can’t believe how incredible this is!” Lulu comes out from behind some people she was engaging with, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the bar, leaning in so I can hear her over the music. “Everyone came! I checked with the door a few times, and every single member that signed up was scanned in!”
Fuck!
I didn’t thinkhewould too…
