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I'm not gonna lie, I enjoy being around her. There's something about Miriana that grabs me, a unique mix of toughness and gentleness that draws me in more and more every day. If I was hesitant to admit how deep my feelings ran before, now I can't help but face them head-on.
I put down the coffee cup and rinse off the utensils when a curse floats up from the stairs. The silverware clatters against the dishcloth as I dry my hands, just in time to see Miriana hurrying down. My heart skips a beat, worried her heels might cause her to trip and fall.
On one hand, I can't help but smile: she, the very model of punctuality, is running late because of me. But on the other hand, concern washes over me. I watch her rushing towards me, phone in one hand and the other struggling with her necklace.
I stand in her way. “You're too worked up, is everything alright?”
“I'm late, and I can't...” she starts, clearly frustrated.
I reach out, struggling to hold back a laugh. “Here, let me do it. Just take a deep breath.” There's something endearingly sweet about her frantic state.
She hands me the necklace and lifts her hair. “It's not funny.”
I step closer and secure the necklace around her neck. “All set.” My eyes catch the pendant, a piece of obsidian with streaks of gold, and it hits me. I gave it to her when she completed her specialization. Looking up, I see her eyes meeting mine. “I didn't think you still wore it.” Miriana doesn't wear much jewelry, and what she does wear is subtle, like the thin bracelets on her wrist or her earrings.
Her face lights up with a smile, “I had to replace the chain, but the pendant is special and lucky for me.”
I grab her a bottle of cold water and hand it to her.
“Thanks Dean,” she checks to see if I've eaten, and noticing the cutlery in my hand, she sighs, “you should've left that for me.”
I shake my head and plant a kiss on her forehead. “You’re not my maid, but thank you for breakfast.”
She blushes, but her eyes quickly cloud over with sadness. The doorbell rings and she's off, leaving me wondering if I stepped on her toes.
* * *
Weeks have rolled into months and living with Miriana and Kyle has been a game changer. I feel different, better, and it's because of their influence. They welcomed me into their lives, stirring up parts of me I thought were long gone.
As I step into Club Hellfire, the air is electric with anticipation. The low lights, pulsating music, and sensual atmosphere spark an excitement that buzzes through the crowd. Moving through the people, I notice things have changed since my last visit. The couples, sometimes more than two, wear collars and stand a step behind or at the feet of their Doms. I recall my surprise when Kyle first explained the dynamic between a dominant and their submissive. At first, I thought it was all about sex, but with time, I realized how skewed my perspective was. Unfortunately, I never found someone to share that kind of connection with and pursue something I liked to be part of. I'm attempting to plunge myself back into this world, to get comfortable with the person I used to be. I learned a ton under Kyle's guidance, but then it's like Greta wiped the slate clean. I shake her name out of my head.C'mon, Dean, grow a pair! You've been granted another shot at freedom, so damn well take it!I give a wry smile to my own bravado and, after passing the Bar, I stop to catch up with some old pals. Even though it's been years, it's good to reconnect, even if I never imagined to see our old quarterback here. I recall him being pretty innocent, always taken aback when we'd chat about getting blowjobs. Probably a result of his pastor dad or that holier-than-thou vibe that somehow got him more action.
While shooting the breeze with him, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar figure. But the moment I swivel to look, the door to the red room swings shut and I focus back on our conversation.
After finishing my drink, I decide to venture into the red room. Not sure why. The dungeon isn't usually my scene, but this time feels different. It's more of a gut feeling than a conscious choice.
Walking through the red door, I'm immediately transported into a world of its own. The music shifts, pulsing with sensual rhythms that get under your skin, while the black leather furniture starkly contrasts with the scarlet red walls. The space splits into two main areas: a raised section where an elegant bar takes center stage, surrounded by tables and leather chairs that invite closeness, and a lower area highlighted by a theatrical stage, framed by red velvet curtains that hint at secretive seductive performances.
The chairs are set in a circle, offering every guest an unobstructed view, creating an environment where every detail is crafted for an immersive experience. On the walls, bold St. Andrew's crosses painted in deep black stand out, symbolizing the enigmatic rites that take place here.
A small crowd draws my attention, captivating me.
Miriana and Kyle. They're there, just a few feet away, blending right in with the crowd of strangers, chatting and laughing. Miriana looks killer in a sleek black dress, Kyle's looking sharp as hell.
I observe them from afar, captivated by their aura. They're like two beacons in the dense darkness, dazzling and irresistible. When they disappear into one of the private rooms, I can't help but speculate about what's transpiring in that space.
Angelina sidles up to me, giving me a playful nudge. “Long time no see, Dean.”
“Hey, angel.” Surprised, I pull her into a hug. “Better late than never, right?”
“Absolutely,” she agrees, and a waiter approaches with a drink. “This one's on the house.” I give a grateful smile and take a sip, attempting to soothe my restless mind.
The lights dim and the music shifts. My focus is drawn to the stage where it appears a session is about to kick off.
“Do you watch or will you join in?” Angelina questions, but I'm at a loss for words. Curiosity pulls at me, but at the same time, I can't shake off a wave of hesitancy. She rises and leans in close to my ear, “Whichever you choose, just make sure to enjoy the ride,” she whispers before stepping back.
I plop down on the couch in the corner, eyes glued on the captivating scene unfolding before me. The dim lighting casts shadows and silhouettes, crafting an atmosphere of intrigue and allure.
A woman.
