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“Touché,” she replies. “Can I get a chaser?”
“Chasers are for pussies,” I retort. “Besides, after you get the first one down, the other two should be a breeze.”
“I remember.” She slams all three shots in succession. “Hopefully, there is no running in the morning.”
“Not this time,” I reassure her.
“Good.”
“Let me add two tequila waters,” I say to the bartender. “Don't worry. We'll sip on these,” I say when her eyes widen at me ordering more drinks.
“So you're going to drink one?”
“Yes. I will drink one of these. Are you ready?” I ask, placing my hand on her lower back. This is the nicest I've been toward her outside of fucking. Hopefully, the tequila will allow me to be more in the moment here with her without being distracted by all the reasons I've resented her.
She nods, and I guide her farther into the room. I hand the bartender a few hundred-dollar bills and indicate for him to keep the tequila waters coming. We're in for the long haul, so we'll need to pace ourselves. I need to be alert and attentive to ensure she has a good experience, but I also need her relaxed and lucid— not inebriated.
I guide her to a private booth lit by candlelight but with a view of the entire room. We take a seat and sip on our drinks as she slowly scans the room. One particular scene captures her attention.
A tall man with dark hair, a muscular build, and a beard stands in front of an X-cross. A blonde is tied to the cross with her ass facing the audience. The man flicks his tongue over her red ass and runs his hand over her smooth skin. He's making a show of teasing her, preparing her for the fuck she's about to receive.
“Is this some sort of extended foreplay?” she asks.
“Something like that.”
“Her ass is an angry red. Can't believe people actually get off on being spanked.”
“This club ... or any sex club, is a judge-free zone. People have different kinks. None is right or wrong. That's the beauty of this place—society norms have no place here.”
She turns slightly in her seat and faces me. “And what is your kink besides the blood play you mentioned and your obsession with my period?”
“I'm not sure you're ready for that conversation. We haven't even been here an hour,” I joke.
“Quite the contrary,” she insists. “The tequila is definitely doing its job. I feel relaxed and want to know about your world. Who's the man behind the brooding, ruthless Mafia exterior? Just rip the Band-Aid off.”
Her interest is definitely piqued, so I do as she has so eloquently asked ... I rip the Band-Aid off.
I gaze back into her searching eyes. “I'm into domination, erotic asphyxiation, bondage, discipline and punishment, voyeurism, exhibitionism, blood play, and sadism.”
“Wow, that's a mouthful,” she responds, slowly rubbing her hand over her throat.
“That's what she said.”
She lets out the loudest laugh, but then shrinks back into the darkness when she gets the attention from some of the club members. “Sorry,” she says, still fighting to regain her composure. “Since when do you have a sense of humor? You've got jokes. That retort was spot-on.”
“There is a lot you don't know about me.” I smirk. “But you will.”
She takes a generous sip of her tequila. “I have to be honest. I don't know what most things mean in your laundry list of kinks, but you said sadism. Is that like me being a masochist?”
It’s not lost on me that she is finally admitting that she may be a masochist. “Sort of, but it’s the opposite.”
“It means you get off on handing out the humiliation and pain, whereas I like being on the receiving end,” she says confidently.
“Exactly. Now you’re starting to understand. I don't expect you to learn everything in one night. Tonight is mostly about observing and indulging in the vibe.” I turn her chin to refocus on the scene before us. The woman on the cross is being fucked now.
“Wow. He's really giving it to her.”
I lean in close to her ear. “Are you wet?” I whisper.
