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“Let me take that,” she says with a smile.
I look around; the space is glamour. Nothing but glamour. The floor-to-ceiling sash windows are shaded with layers of pure white voile that move softly in the breeze. The floor is brilliantly polished tile, covered in places with white fur rugs.
There is a dazzling chandelier that hangs in long tendrils over a glass reception desk. Candles burn in clear votives along its length.
“Would you like something to drink?”
I stare at the beautiful woman as she stands with me, my jacket draped over her arm. She has an impossibly small waist, jet-black hair that falls in soft waves to her shoulders. Her lips are bright red, her skin milky pale. Her black clothes are elegant and clearly tailored as they fit like a second skin: pants and a shirt unbuttoned seductively so that I can see the lace of her matching bra.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
She gestures for me to take a seat. I grab one of the magazines, flicking aimlessly through it, but I’m unable to think of anything but John as my heart patters in my chest.
“Just go, for me...please...” he’d begged.
“What if I don’t like it...?” I’d been unable to hide my apprehension and fear as I’d wiped away my tears.
Since he’d said those words in bed, I’d retreated from him physically and emotionally as I dealt with it. Searching Google about his desires didn’t help.
“Don’t look at the Internet...” he’d chided softly, gently taking the laptop from me, “that’s ninety-nine percent of what I don’t want...”
I inhale deeply to bring myself back to the room. I love that man; have committed to marry him...I’ll try...I can at least try.
I bury my head in the magazine for a few more minutes.
“Miss Nolan?”
My heart buzzes frantically. “Yes?”
“Demica is ready for you.”
I’m escorted to a room. Expecting an office, I get a bedroom, the most stunning opulent space that I’ve ever seen, outfitted solely in white. From the shelter of the canopy over the king-size bed to the thick carpet that gives softly as I walk.
“Make yourself comfortable.”
I nod dumbly, ambling to the middle of the room as she leaves. There’s nowhere to sit except on the exquisitely dressed bed or the love seat by the shaded windows. I stand by the seat, grateful for the breeze from the open windows because my armpits are damp.
The door opens. My heart jumps into my throat again as a tall, slender woman practically floats in on sky-high heels, the seriously sharp toe peeking out from her black, billowing pants that rise up and skim her neat waist. Her ample breasts shift sensuously against the silk of her white shirt, the neck modest however, reaching up and ruffling just under her chin. Her black, poker-straight hair is tied at the base of her skull; the tail end of it swishing against her buttocks.
“Miss Nolan,” she says, extending her hand, “I’m Demica, and I’m in charge of your induction today.”
I swallow back the surprise as I take her perfectly manicured hand, the French tips gleaming. “This isn’t what I imagined...”
“A dark dungeon with nothing but whips and chains?” She lifts her long, elegant hand to indicate the room, blood-red lips parting in a warm smile. “This is a much more conducive environment for training.”
I gulp back my worry when Demica gestures for me to join her as she folds herself gracefully down onto the love seat.
“I’m a bit confused...” I mumble, clutching my bag on my lap, “I don’t know anything about this...lifestyle...”
“Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands,” Demica purrs softly, “Your fiancé is one of my most valued clients.” Hearing it confirmed makes me sweat even more. “He’s intimated very strongly what he would like to achieve from this.”
“What about me...? Don’t I get a say in all this?”
“Miss Nolan,” Demica smiles, “you’re the one with all the power, just remember that.”
I hold my bag a little tighter.
“Now, the bathroom is through there; why don’t you freshen up and change.”
