Unforgettable

by Aleatha Romig

  The blonde’s head tilts. “I’m sorry, do we know one another?” She shakes her head. “I promise that wasn’t a line. You just seem...familiar.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I say honestly.

  She extends her petite hand. “Hi, I’m Marji. Your daughter is delightful.”

  I take her hand. “I’m Luke and I have to agree...most of the time.” In my mind I’m doing a strategical breakdown of women, especially pretty blondes who I might know. I’m mostly certain she’s not one of the women from the preschool. As an architect I meet my fair share of women, but yet that doesn’t feel right. There’s no ring on her left hand, which would rule out couples who contract home designs from me, and I’ve only worked with a few single women. Of course, my mind goes to my late wife. “I’m sorry, perhaps you knew my wife, Beth McAroy?”

  Her blue eyes grow wide. “Yes.”

  Just as quickly, I watch as the shadow of remorse surfaces. It is an emotion I am good at detecting.

  “Oh, I was sorry to hear about the accident.” She looks at Callie who is still lifting and inspecting plastic containers filled with strawberries and her volume lowers. “You’re doing a great job with her.” She shrugs. “I had just started working for Dr. Ami Kizer when...well, I’m sorry.”

  Dr. Kizer.

  I hadn’t thought about Dr. Kizer in years. She’d been the one who helped Beth and me get back on track. She’d been the one who encouraged us to be honest and explore our desires as well as our boundaries. I could look back on our time with Dr. Kizer with sadness for what I’ve lost, but instead, I choose to view it as one of the factors that made our marriage a success.

  “I guess couples counseling doesn’t work when you’re alone,” I say as Callie returns with two containers in hand, and I shake my head. “One.”

  “But, Daddy, this one has the hugest ones. We can dip them in the pudding. This one...” Her big green eyes stare upward as she lifts the other container. “...has baby ones and needs the daddy ones in the other one. I couldn’t take one and not the other.”

  Marji grins. “I don’t think you can argue with that logic.”

  With a sigh, I take the strawberry containers from Callie and add them to our cart “It was nice to see you again, Marji.”

  “Um, Luke, it’s up to you, but just so you know, once you’re one of Dr. Kizer’s clients, she is always willing to see you again. You know...even to talk.”

  I nod. “I’ll give that some thought.”

  With a smile that reaches to her blue eyes, she grins at both me and Callie before she turns and walks away.

  “Who was that lady?” Callie asks. “She was nice.”

  “She was.”

  “And pretty. She looks like Elsa.”

  Her comparison of Marji to one of her favorite cartoon characters makes me smile. “I guess she does. Now, let’s find our dinner and go home.”

  “We have strawsberries?”

  “Yes, and we’ll eat them after dinner.”

  Marji

  I stare up at the sign through my windshield. It isn’t like it is a flashing neon light advertising a tawdry sex club. The sign is classy and unobtrusive, a simple notice at the end of a driveway beside the large iron gate. To anyone driving by, it might be thought a private restaurant or a country club. In a way it’s both. Back in the day it might have been called a gentlemen’s club.

  I know about Lace and Leather from my work.

  It is an establishment often mentioned in Dr. Kizer’s notes as a place for couples to investigate their desires. The private club offers all levels of BDSM involvement from voyeurism to active participation. It’s also very exclusive. Clients come only through referrals from VIP members and everyone undergoes background checks including medical and psychological records.

  While I’m not certain what brought me here tonight, I know it’s what I’ve been thinking about for weeks, months, or maybe even years. Let’s be honest, I’ve been thinking about it since I began working for Dr. Kizer. It was after the Williamses returned from their weeklong getaway that I couldn’t shake the thoughts. Their contentment was contagious. It seems a stay in one of Dr. Kizer’s cabins is literally just what the doctor ordered.

  The cabin isn’t an option for me.

  Lace and Leather is.

  As I transcribed the notes from the Williamses’ session after their getaway, it was as if I had been there, a fly on the wall, so to speak. The cabin wasn’t their first experience with BDSM. Yet it didn’t seem as if they were experts, both venturing into this new world together, willingly accepting of and open to its wonders.

  The notes describe both of their emotions and feelings. Dr. Kizer is one of the best at getting her clients to express their inner thoughts. She creates a safe environment where they both can share.

  The notes from Mrs. Williams are the ones I couldn’t forget. The way she described the week was erotic and enticing, as well as intriguing. Another component Dr. Kizer emphasizes is trust. Both parties must trust one another to be open and remain nonjudgmental. She stresses that there are no wrongs or rights in exploration, only missed opportunities.

  Trust.

  Try.

  Be honest about what happens.

  Try again or try something else.

  From the notes, it seems as though their week was successful on many fronts.

  Exploring this world with someone you trust would make entering it together possible. For someone like me who is new and without a trusted partner, I believe Lace and Leather may be my answer. According to Dr. Kizer’s notes, the club has clients who will help people like me explore. People who are trusted.

  I know that isn’t the same thing as my trusting them, but it’s a start.

  While Dr. Kizer mostly sends couples, according to my research, Lace and Leather also accepts willing singles.

  That’s me.

  A single.

  I am not sure what I want to get out of this night or even if I can go through with it. I guess I’m tired of transcribing other people’s unforgettable experiences and am ready to have one of my own.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull my car back onto the dark, secluded street and turn into the entrance of the long driveway. After I enter a code into the small box near the entrance, the gate before me opens.

  I may have facilitated my own invitation. I may have made the email sound like Dr. Kizer was referring one of her clients, including all of the background information as if she were. It was either that or admit to my boss what I wanted to do.

  The way I look at it is that my facilitating the referral is kind of the same thing, without the middle man.

  Well, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  My heart thumps faster as the gate slides to the side. Taking a deep breath, my grip on the steering wheel tightens. I press the accelerator and drive forward. The lights of the impressive large building come into view. It’s a historic mansion that has been present in this rural area of Wisconsin for over a hundred years. Only in the last fifteen years has it been transformed into a private club.

  According to lore, the home was built by a wealthy family who came to this area from Canada. I doubt that when they had this masterpiece of a home constructed they had any idea what it would become. It’s not that it is now a blatant, crude sex club. On the contrary, Lace and Leather is elite. And as I said, you must be a VIP or have a referral to enter.

  Thankfully, I have Dr. Kizer’s referral.

  I slow my car as I approach the front circular driveway. Standing at the bottom of the large sweeping steps is a man in a dark gray uniform. While I usually notice a man in uniform, it’s his other accessory that catches my attention. He’s wearing a mask. It’s black and covers his nose with openings for his eyes, a simple party mask. I suddenly recall Dr. Kizer’s instructions. All visitors are to arrive prepared with a form of facial covering, something to keep everyone in attendance anonymous.

  Bringing my car to a stop, I roll down my wind
ow.

  The gentleman doesn’t say a word, only reaches for the door handle to help me exit my car and enter Lace and Leather.

  My voice quakes. “Um, I’m sorry. I forgot...”

  His full lips straighten as he nods. His voice is deep and his enunciation and timbre practiced to the point of perfection. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  I blink up at his thick neck and broad shoulders. “Maybe another—”

  “This is your first time,” he says, not as a question.

  Undoubtedly, my trembling grip of the steering wheel and my lack of preparedness all help with his assessment. And then I realize it was the code I was sent, the one I entered. It would make sense that the security for Lace and Leather knows the code of each entering patron.

  “It is.” My first time. I wave him off. “And it seems that I’m not prepared. Not to worry, I’ll come back another time.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he removes a piece of white satin. “White is for first timers. Next time, you will be prepared.”

  My pulse increases.

  That didn’t seem like a suggestion.

  I fight the urge to reply. Yes, Sir. I will be.

  “I-I um...”

  He opens the car door and offers me his large gloved hand. “Welcome to Lace and Leather. Our first-time guests are special. I believe Dr. Kizer sent you.”

  Again, he isn’t questioning.

  “Yes, she did.” As I stand on my high heels, my pulse kicks up even further until my knees wobble. I grip his hand tighter as the skirt of my black dress flutters lightly in the summer breeze. “Honestly, I’m not sure anymore if I should stay.”

  “I’ll show you to Dorothy.” With his other hand, he lifts the white satin. “First, you must put this on. I can help.” His grin grows. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and plan to leave.”

  Peering upward at the majestic mansion, I take in the warm golden glow shining from the windows as the sound of jazz music infiltrates the night air. “Will I...what if...I change my mind?”

  “Dorothy will show you around. You are free to leave at any time.”

  Inhaling, I nod, let go of his hand, and turn away, showing him the back of my head. “Okay, please put on the blindfold.”

  “It’s not a blindfold. Here at Lace and Leather we encourage you to use your senses. Sight is a powerful sense.” He eases the white satin over my eyes. Sewn openings fit perfectly over my eyes as the satin covers the top of my nose.

  Except that it is white and tied in the back, it covers me as his mask does him.

  After it is secured, the gentleman again offers me his hand. “Let me escort you up the stairs. The masks take a while to get used to wearing.”

  I place my hand in his, aware of how small I feel next to him. “Do you...? Are you...?”

  “Not tonight, ma’am. I’m working.”

  I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

  My shoulders straighten as he opens the door inward.

  This is it...

  Marji

  Before I can change my mind, I’m greeted. Standing at the ready is a pretty woman with red hair, wearing a black mask studded with rubies. “Welcome to Lace and Leather, I’m Dorothy.”

  “I’m...” I recall now that the instructions—the ones that mention bringing a mask—also say to use a pseudonym. I’m drawing a blank. And then I recall I spoke to my twin sister this afternoon. While I am certain she wouldn’t be pleased I would use her name for a BDSM club, I am also sure she’ll never know. Regaining a bit of composure, I offer my hand. “I’m Moira.”

  “Very nice, Moira. It’s unusual for Dr. Kizer to refer singles to our club.”

  “She said...” I don’t know how to finish that sentence since in reality, she didn’t send me.

  Dorothy’s hand comes up. “Unusual, not unheard of. We have opportunities for singles and couples alike.” She looks down at a paper in her hand. “I’ll give you a tour based on the questionnaire Dr. Kizer asked that you complete.”

  My neck straightens.

  I agonized over that questionnaire. It is probably easier to complete when planning this outing with a special someone. It is also probably easier when Dr. Kizer encourages desires and exploration. I neither have a special someone nor did I complete the questionnaire with Dr. Kizer’s assistance.

  “Okay,” I say. “If I try something and then change my opinion, is the questionnaire set in stone?”

  “Not at all, Moira. Trying is what is encouraged. There’s no right or wrong, only trying.”

  That sounds similar to what Dr. Kizer says.

  The entry where we are standing is separated from the main building. In its heyday it was probably a breezeway, a place to keep cool air or warm from entering the main part of the house. As Dorothy opens the large wood door, the music from before becomes louder. Stepping inside, I turn my head to see all around.

  Before us is a grand sweeping staircase similar to something out of a movie about a Southern plantation. Each room or hallway around the entry is isolated with large wooden pocket doors, yet the area doesn’t appear small.

  “In there,” Dorothy points to the closest large doors, “is the bourbon bar. Once our tour is complete, if you’d like to get a drink or mingle, that is the place.”

  “Do people meet in there?”

  “Yes. It’s a chic yet comfortable atmosphere.” She peers down at my black dress and tall heels. The dress is low-cut and the bodice hugs my breasts. The waist is tight but the skirt flows, falling to just above my knees.

  It is an outfit I rarely wear, yet from what I’ve heard about Lace and Leather, it seems appropriate.

  She smiles. “You’re perfectly dressed. We encourage more formal attire. It seems these days that everyone is casual. Unless you come in knowing your partner or partners, we work to maintain a level of anonymity. That encourages freedom to participate without fear of seeing the other person on the street or at PTO.”

  I inhale again. “Does that work?”

  “Quite well. Now, follow me.”

  Step by step, we ascend the staircase until we are on the second floor. “Up here are our private rooms.”

  My stomach begins to twist. “Dorothy, maybe...I don’t know...”

  “According to your questionnaire, you were interested in seeing.” She smiles reassuringly. “Viewing. Tonight, Moira, is about seeing and being seen. Your white mask indicates that you are new. No one will expect anything more than you’re willing to do. You also indicated that you don’t believe you are interested in being paired with a couple.”

  My head shakes. “No...I don’t...”

  Dorothy stops walking. “You also indicated you believe you are submissive.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. I haven’t spoken aloud about these things to anyone, not Dr. Kizer or anyone, and yet here I am. Instead of answering, I nod.

  “Have you ever acted upon those beliefs?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then the night is young. Perhaps you’re not submissive. Perhaps you’re a Dominant.”

  I feel my eyelashes against the satin as my eyes open wider. “I-I don’t...I’m not sure I would know how.”

  Dorothy’s smile broadens. “There are no rules other than respect. No matter which role you choose to try, remember everything is consensual. Safe words are established between individuals. In the meantime, no means no.” Leading me down a hallway, she stops at a door. “This is a viewing room.” She nods. “Are you still comfortable with viewing?”

  “A couple?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do they know I’m watching?”

  “They hope someone is.”

  I take a deep breath as she opens the door inward.

  “Come in, Moira.”

  The room around me is darkened, yet my eyes quickly adjust. To one side is a sofa as well as a table with two chairs. At the far end is a large chair and darkness. My mind is aflutter with what happens in this room.

 
Suddenly, the room fills with the sound of buzzing, yet I recall from what I’ve read that cell phones are strictly forbidden.

  “I apologize,” Dorothy says, lifting what appears to be an old-fashioned beeper. “I’m needed downstairs for a moment. Let me show you how to view and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Show me?”

  “Over here,” she says, leading me to a remote control lying upon the table. “With this, you can illuminate the window before you. Rest assured that the couple within is aware they may be watched. It is only with the participants’ permission that we would offer such a service.”

  My nose scrunches. “And they’re okay with it?”

  Dorothy’s smile grows. “There is something liberating, empowering, and downright tantalizing in knowing you’re being seen, that what you’re doing is not only affecting you and your partner, but others as well.” She hands me the remote. “It works mostly like a television remote. You can adjust the clarity of the vision as well as the volume.”

  “Can they see me?”

  “No.” Her head shakes. “Only if you want them to see you.”

  Trying to stay composed, I look down at the remote. “What is it like to be watched?”

  Dorothy smiles. “Your questionnaire indicated you could enjoy it.”

  “But I’m alone.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman about to watch something you’ve never seen in person. If you say no, then no one will watch you watch.”

  Watch me watch.

  “I’m afraid I may not be of much interest.”

  “Is that a no?”

  I shrug and take the remote from her hand into my shaky grasp. “It’s not a no, which I suppose is a yes.” My cheeks rise with the knowledge that I made my first decision of the night. “Will I know if someone is watching?”

  “Only if that person wants it known.”

  I tug on my painted lip with my front teeth. “I guess if the person doesn’t like what he sees, he won’t let me know.”

  “That isn’t always the case. Some voyeurs want to stay that way.” She looks down at the remote. “See that blue button. It would allow you to speak to the room you’re viewing.”