8
EMILY
“T hen that man must be insane. Or blind.”
I took a deep but steady breath as I let my eyes go back to him.
He was right beside me, our legs almost pressed together, and excitement had rushed through my veins and a tightening of my skin.
I hadn’t seen him from the stage, mainly because I’d been so nervous. I could barely see Roxie, much less anyone in the dark crowd, but I had when she’d subtlety whispered it to me at the bar. His face had been pointed down at his phone, but I could see it just fine. He had a gorgeous face, with high cheekbones, a strong nose, and eyes that were shaped beautifully. I couldn’t tell the eye color yet, not from this distance, but I could tell they were light.
It was only when Roxie took me over to his seat that I figured out his eyes were gray, but a much lighter shade than my own. His almost looked like glass on a cloudy day, but clearer. Roxie had told me a little about him, that he was looking for a playmate and what that meant.
When she’d gone over the finer details, my eyes had glazed over, because I
was still thinking about the term, playmate. Someone to have fun with, to play with, but in an adult way. And apparently, Mr. Dark’s kink aligned with mine perfectly. If a virgin could have a kink.
I looked down at his hand over mine and moved my fingers to trace down the long length of his hand. Manicured nails, skin that had seen work but were smooth with no rough parts to tear at my skin. Hands that would engulf me, mold me, make me scream. If I let them.
I looked up into his eyes and saw a fierce gaze that didn’t want to let me go.
My breath caught in my chest as I looked into those eyes. They held promises and a certain kind of smugness that wasn’t unattractive. On the contrary, it was the self-assurance that came along with the smug that made him even more attractive.
He didn’t want the things he wanted to prove he was superior to a woman; he wanted them because he’d liked to be in control, to give pleasure, or to take it away at his whim. It was a power game, of course, but not a game of degradation.
“I would like to discuss the matter with you further, but I promised Roxie I’d talk with her before I made my final decision. Do you mind?” I knew the mask was on and was aware of it as he looked at my face while I waited.
My fingers reached up to touch the edges, it was still in place. That would be one of my rules. The mask stayed on, or there was no deal.
“Not a problem. Take your time. I have all night.” I didn’t know male voices could be sultry until then. I took a big breath and stood.
It took everything in me to walk away from that table, and I waited until Roxie had dragged me into a dark corner to let the grin spread over my face.
“He’s perfect!”
“I know! But listen, I’ve heard he likes to play games. Games you might not be ready for, Emily.”
“Stephanie,” I corrected quickly, with a hiss, “I’m Stephanie here.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. Of course, Stephanie.” Her hand fell down to cup my shoulder. “I’m just worried he might be too … uh, experienced for you. That’s all.”
“No, he’s exactly what I want. And dirty to boot, I bet. God, he’s so perfect, Roxie!” When all you wanted was someone that fucking hot to make you scream their name as they fucked you, he was perfect.
“But, the other stuff, the uh, games…” She let the sentence trail off.
“I’m not the most experienced bird in the nest, I know that Roxie, but I know what those games are. I’m not afraid. It turns me on, actually.” I’d never admitted that out loud, and I felt my cheeks flame even as I said them. She
needed to know I’d survive this. “I have the rules you gave me, and the sense to know when I need help. I might not know the man, but I do know he’s what I want.”
“Alright then. If you’re sure?” She looked me square in the eye and waited.
“I’m sure. Come on. Be happy for me.” I pulled on her arm, and she smiled
before she bent down to kiss my cheek.
“Be happy, Stephanie. That’s all I want for you.” She let me go then, and I walked back to Mr. Dark’s table.
I wondered what his name was. Byron perhaps? Was his mother a poet who
could see into the soul of her child to name him after such a man? Was she practical and named him John, perhaps? Or Biblical and named him something
saintlier? Benedict, perhaps, or Moses?
It was hard to tell, but that was part of the fun. I wanted to spend a small amount of time with a man who would treat me well, who would open my eyes,
and most importantly, get me off. I needed to be treated to whatever he had to offer; I needed Mr. Dark and his lovely games.
“Alright, do you want to discuss the practicalities?” I knew he was as clean as me and would be checked regularly to make sure he stayed that way. House rules, and no fudging on health certificates.
“If that’s how you want to do it, then we shall.” He smiled as I sat, only I moved closer to him this time.
“I would like to have it out in the open.” I worried I might be too forceful, not timid enough for a man who wanted a sub. But I wasn’t his anything yet, and I’d do this the way I wanted to. It had to be that way. For now.
I’d tried a couple of adult forums, places that I’d never admit to being a member of, and had come across more than a few men who were clueless. Dick
pics and demands that I get on my knees and suck their cocks as introductions just didn’t seem … appropriate. Okay, you know how to treat a woman as a subhuman, good for you. That’s not what I was after, not necessarily, and certainly not from those men. Subordination wasn’t always meant to be demeaning. In many ways, it was meant to lift the sub up, to give them confidence, and the freedom to know they were safe to let go. They were safe to
