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So she’d said when they’d talked.
“Her events are always interesting.”
They both turned in their seats to have a better view of the club beyond them. Almost immediately, large monitors descended from the ceiling, and the cry of a trumpet blasted through the air.
“Hear ye; hear ye!” The camera panned to the stairs, then up to the landing where the crier stood.
Before his marriage, Hayes had visited the Quarter’s private rooms on the second floor. On his way down, he’d frequently stopped in the exact same spot as the announcer. The balcony of sorts provided a panoramic view of the dungeon and its more intimate area, Rue Sensuelle—or as members called it, Kinky Avenue. In one of her more brilliant strokes of ingenuity, Aviana had devoted an entire section of the club to various role-play fantasies. His particular favorite was the doctor’s office. He adored having a sub’s legs as wide apart as possible.
“Tonight, we present to you the royal court.” With a flourish, the man on the screen extended his arm toward the top of the stairs.
Wearing a cloak, the club’s receptionist, Trinity, descended the stairs, stopping to curtsy and wave from the balcony.
Aviana’s head dungeon master, Tore, followed. This evening, he looked like more of a Viking than usual. The seams of his black vest appeared to be hanging by the barest of threads. Hayes saw him at the gym almost every day. But Tore was often there when Hayes arrived.
Like Trinity, the DM also paused before continuing his descent. How many times had this whole thing been rehearsed?
Mason Sullivan followed, along with his radiant and very pregnant wife, Hannah. As they were presented, Hannah cradled her stomach with tenderness.
“Oh my God, she’s glowing.” Abigail grinned.
Would an expectant Abigail be the same?
Jesus.
Hayes gave himself a firm mental shake. He would not permit his mind to wander there.
When Abigail returned her attention to the parade, he forced himself to as well.
Other court members continued to follow Aviana.
Rafe Sterling and his fiancée, Hope, were next. Then finally two of Aviana’s many slaves made their way down the staircase dressed only in tight black pants and leather harnesses.
Once again, an expectant silence descended over the club.
Abigail leaned toward him and whispered, “This is going to be good.”
The announcer blasted his trumpet again.
Then Aviana appeared in lights. Good God.She had to have been poured into her one-piece silver outfit. She towered in thigh-high lamé boots with heels at least six inches tall.
Her costume was complemented by an ice-blue cape with a train and a collar that framed her slender, beautiful face.
Tonight her hair was white and seemed to tumble all the way to the floor.
“I’ve never seen anything like that crown.”
The thing had spikes that seemed to be made from daggers. The camera zoomed in to show that the tips were shaped like snowflakes and reflected the light.
She threw her arms wide, seeking the adoration she craved. The crowd responded with enthusiastic shouts, catcalls, hollers, and applause.
“Can you believe her makeup?”
“It’s…” He was at a loss for words. He might have seen something like it before, but not outside of Broadway.
Aviana’s face sparkled. And her eyes were a shade of purple that seemed even brighter because of her long, white, fake eyelashes.
Then two helpers dressed in green elf uniforms joined her to offer support as she glided down the stairs. How she didn’t topple over, he had no clue.
