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“Spikes. Definitely. You wore buckles last week.”
“Well remembered.” She looked me up and down, then scowled at my feet. “Lovely dress, wrecked by the footwear. What size are you?”
I looked at my cute little heels, wondering how they could possibly be so offensive. “Seven.” She threw me over a pair of obscenely tall knee-highs. “Really?! I’ll fall.”
“I’ll hold you up. Trust me, you’ll look hot.”
“You going to try and set me up with some sexy, goth stud?” I laughed.
“If you want.”
I sighed, bending down to zip up the new boots. “I’m not sure quite what I want.”
“Youwantsex. A filthy fuck is a tonic for almost anything, I find.”
“I wouldn’t know. Things went a little stale with Stu after a few years.”
“Then you definitely want sex.” She shimmied into her dress, pulling it up tight. Her cleavage looked amazing, like some kind of porn star rack. She layered on her make-up and laced up her boots, then checked and re-checked herself in the mirror from every angle. The doorbell rang, a noise I’d never actually heard. “That’ll be Cara.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“My sub. She’s heard all about you. I’ll leave her waiting awhile, she knows the drill.”
“Your sub?”
“Submissive. She’s kind of like a girlfriend without the girlfriend bit. Sex, basically. She likes me to hurt her.”
My mouth turned dry, images of her bedroom flashing before my eyes. “Hurt her, like spank her?”
“Spank her, whip her, paddle her... make her cry then kiss it all better again,” she laughed. “Never tried it?”
I shook my head. “Stuart wasn’t really that way inclined.”
“And what about you?”
“The avenue never really presented itself.”
“Shame.” She waited a few more seconds, fastened up a studded collar. “Oh, by the way, Cara calls me Raven. Most people do.”
“Raven... right.” I assigned it to memory.
“You can be Cat. You have cat’s eyes.”
“Can’t I just use my own name?” I said. “Is it some kind of special code or something? Is Cara’s name really Cara?”
“No, it’s Penelope, but don’t tell her I told you. You’ll soon get into the name thing. Cat suits you anyway.”
My stomach lurched as I recalled where I’d heard that before.
***
Cara was pretty little creature, with gorgeous dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. She stood waiting in the doorway, knees tight together and head slightly bowed. She had stockings on under her black dress, high enough to see the lace tops. Her skin was goose-pimpled from the cold, arms wrapped tight together under her bolero.
“Cara, you can look up now. This is Cat. Cat, this is Cara.”
“Pleased to meet you, Cat.” Cara pulled me in for a hug, delicate and light, as she was herself. I smiled at her, trying to think about anything other than her naked ass getting a spanking. I joined them on their way down the street. Rebecca took hold of Cara’s hand, a possessive gesture with rough twisting fingers. I couldn’t take my eyes off the way they moved together, Cara drifting along so meekly at her side.
The Devonshire Arms was a teeming sea of black. We eased our way to the bar, and while Rebecca whispered not-so-sweet somethings in Cara’s ear I stared up at the mosaic of band posters on the ceiling, a mass of colour at odds with the rest of the place. I laughed at the idea of Steph and Stuart finding me in here. Straight-laced Lydia, workaholic, hanging out in a goth bar with two fetish-loving bi girls.
