by Jordan Bell
They let me color on the tablecloths and eat endless breadsticks. It was a win-win for everyone.
Philomel had money. Old money. The kind of money inherited from stuffy white men and came with prestigious English names. The streets featured old fashioned lamp posts and houses made of brick. Rows of brownstones lined streets with oak trees and little black fences that warned tourists they did not have enough money to walk on the grass. Despite the haughty, old family money, it also sported an edge of eccentric quirkiness lost on the new rich. One hundred year old townhouses flashed jazzy purple doors, ridiculous garden gnomes, and doghouses like miniature versions of the adult house. There were also a lot of churches, bookstores, and chic vintage clothing shops.
We parked on Easton Street and walked three blocks to the address Kelli typed into my phone. November in South River brought cold wind but no snow. Tonight the clouds blocked the stars, made the sky endless and featureless. I pulled my purple pea coat closer to my body and scanned the building numbers as we passed.
The brownstones gave way to old warehouses turned condos which got taller with each block, until we found the one Oliver belonged to. It straddled old Philomel and new downtown, at least forty stories, glass and iron architecture, it’s base an old factory hollowed out to make room for the modern and vintage to collide.
There was no way I’d have anything in common with someone who lived like this. It had to cost a fortune to live in a building this nice, with a doorman and lock codes and a foyer with a waterfall bubbling down the brick façade behind the check in desk.
My dress did not look nice enough to even be allowed inside.
What if he took one look at my huge chest and poochy stomach and went, Nope. Nope. No way. No thanks. I’d thought about that all day. I thought, what if he’s like Thomas? What if he’s like Josh? What if he realized the mistake he made in agreeing to this and sent me on my way?
What if it went well and we ripped each other’s clothes off and I accidentally screamed Josh’s name?
What if. What if. What if.
I couldn’t do this.
“I want to go home,” I said to nobody and Kelli, at the front of the pack, announced, “We’re here!”
A doorman pulled open the door when she flashed her ID, checked her name on a list and we were in. I followed them all reluctantly, got on the spacious elevator, and headed up to the millionth floor.
There was no way this wasn’t going to end badly.
A doorman greeted us as we got off the floor and this time Kelli led the way, chatting about how great this place was and wow, did you see that view? It was hard to notice the view with my stomach wrapping itself into itty bitty knots and eating itself.
His door was one of only two I noticed on this floor and the closer we got to it the more I could hear the music whispering through the walls, thumping just enough to feel beneath my feet.
The door opened, Kelli hugged someone I didn’t recognize. Hands took my coat, and we were in.
The music was louder inside, not so loud you couldn’t hear the person next to you but not well. It piped through every room, a magic, throaty female voice who sang about love and danger. The condo was huge, room feeding into room feeding into room, balconies along the full length of one side, doors open to let in cold night air to cool off the sweaty heat of so many bodies. The lights glowed low and cast every beautiful person in long shadows.
I had no idea how many people were stuffed into this place, but enough to relax some of the dread. I wouldn’t have to talk to the host much if he had so many people to entertain. I loved music and dancing and free alcohol so this would be easy.
Sure.
The fetish community was a beautiful lot, all shapes and sizes and colors and ages. They were so possessed of themselves it was difficult not to ogle. Everyone was mostly dressed, some less than others in strappy leather outfits more costume than clothes. What hit me first was the color and texture, every single person different than the next. Leather, vinyl, metal, feathers, satin. Compared to the woman in a red leather corset dress, piles of curls secured to the back of her neck and threaded with tightly closed rosebuds, I might as well have been wearing a grocery sack. I was so out of place, but I loved them. I loved how gorgeously unafraid they were of looking just like they wanted to look, playing the part they dreamed of playing.
One girl, hardly any older than me, wore cat ears, a halter top, and skin tight pleather pants. I grinned. Her ears were cute.
She laughed and played with tiny gemstones dangling from the loop on her collar.
Her collar. The sight of it made my heart flutter. It was a symbol of power and pride and she clearly loved wearing it. She couldn’t stop touching it and I couldn’t stop staring at her black painted fingernails twirling the little adornments. It gave her a naked sort of vulnerability, screaming to everyone in the room – I am owned.
Jealousy ached deep in my belly. Someone had claimed her and no one would dare touch her without his permission. She knelt for someone, called them Master, or Mistress maybe. Someone adored her more than anyone else in the world.
“Hey.” Julie returned from the crowd to grab my wrist and shake me. “Earth to Kat.”
“What?” I shook my eyes loose and looked at my friend, my eyes wide with wonder and hurt. Then I saw it.
It wasn’t black leather or crushed velvet, no rhinestones or spikes. A thin, silver metal ring encircled Julie’s neck, a little heart dangling at the hollow of her throat. It was delicate and beautiful and I knew what it meant immediately. How had I missed it?
Owned.
Claimed.
Collared.
My heart ached and I took a step back towards the door. I wanted that. More than I wanted anything else.
Goddamn it, Josh.
Julie frowned and pressed against my side. “We got halfway across the room when I realized you weren’t next to me. Sweetie are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I got lost,” I lied, unable to tear my eyes away from her collar.
“You don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to. We could just go out on the balcony and dance our butts off. If that’s what you want. You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s ok.” I shook my head. “It means a lot to Kelli. I’m sure this is her way of trying to apologize for what happened by pimping me out to someone else. She means well, let’s just meet him and get this over with.”
She nodded and we moved through the crowd hand-in-hand, shoulders pressed together. It reminded me of high school, when holding hands with your best friend was no big deal but meant everything when you faced a horde of crazy teenagers just trying not to lose their minds completely.
We spotted Kelli near the kitchen waving at us, bright lights pouring out from around the door behind her. Tyler waited next to her, his face animating when we got close.
“There you are,” he said before kissing Julie’s temple.
“Here we are,” she said, but didn’t let me go. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Come on,” Kelli said, screwing up her nose in annoyance. “Oliver’s hiding in the kitchen being weird.”
“Because you know how I like them weird,” I said at her back as she soldiered in.
Despite the size of the condo, the kitchen was small, all stainless steel and sparkling marble. The breakfast bar was covered in alcohol, a wall of it to protect us from the rest of the party. There was only one other person in the room with us.
Oliver.
Julie and I stopped in our tracks. Tyler swore when he nearly knocked us to the ground. She and I exchanged wide glances and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was.
Yowza.
He was gorgeous. Unfairly so. He was photoshop pretty, dark brown hair perfectly coifed by some expert barber who designed hairstyles for celebrities. A few loose pieces broke from the sweep, this tiny flaw only making him more attractive, not less. He was taller than Tyler and Josh, wide shoulders and arms like p
it bulls. He wore a white button down dress shirt made of shiny expensive linen, sleeves rolled up messily to his elbows and collar unbuttoned. One glance and it was obvious this rumpled look wasn’t normal for him, everything too neat and close cut and orderly but for those few distinct markers of someone unmoored and trying to hide it.
I could spot my own. We were a small but mighty club of the lost and heartbroken.
He was leaning against the bar, slouching more like, colorful drink in hand sucking on a lime wedge. Shit, he made sucking on a lime wedge look elegant. I swallowed. Julie swallowed. Tyler snorted softly like maybe this wasn’t the first time women had lost their minds in front of his friend.
“Oliver.”
He nodded towards Tyler, a bored sort of acknowledgement, then eyed the three of us with a similar disinterest. Or maybe it was distraction. He exhaled and tossed the lime wedge at the trash before inhaling his drink in three gulps.
“You’re missing your party,” Tyler pointed out.
“I wouldn’t say I was missing it.”
Kelli beamed. “I want you to meet--”
“You can go,” he interrupted and turned away to start pouring more alcohol into his newly emptied glass.
Kelli faltered. “But you said…”
Oliver sighed with his whole body and shot her a wearied look. “Take them out of here, Ty. Go show them the balconies or ice sculpture or something.” He frowned into his drink. “I’m pretty sure there are ice sculptures. Maybe. Probably.”
Tyler nodded, then pulled on Kelli’s arm. “Kel. Julie. Kat. Let the man drink in peace.”
Kelli hesitated, her nose wrinkling at me.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, nudging her out as Julie and I started our retreat.
“Not you,” Oliver interrupted, pointing at me with his drink hand. I froze in place. “You stay.”
“Oliver,” Tyler shouldered the door open, giving his friend a reproachful look. “Don’t freak her out.”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter to him whether I was freaked out or not.
I stood paralyzed halfway between Julie’s outstretched hand and the Dom who looked like he’d had the same sort of morning I had. I looked at Oliver, beautiful and a little bit crazy. Then at Julie who looked at Oliver like she wasn’t convinced his being beautiful was enough to leave me alone with him.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I told her.
She nodded and let Tyler pull her out. I heard him tell her not to worry as the door swung shut.
Oliver was already pouring another drink when I gave him my attention. He had great shoulders, muscles filling out his shirt completely. I could feel the electric tension in his body though, restrained emotion a man like this never showed.
I wondered what secret he was hiding. I wondered if it was anything like mine.
I pressed myself against the counter, wondering why someone with a giant home had a kitchen barely bigger than closet. Everything looked new too, like he never cooked or used the pepper grinder or olive oil tucked beside the stove. I would have bet money that they were props.
“Well this isn’t awkward at all.”
He grunted in response, tipped back a shot of tequila and sucked a new lime wedge between his lips. He didn’t look at me, intent on the alchemy he was working between various bottles and his glass.
“Did you expect romance? I thought you were my pleasure slave for the night,” he said dryly. “I think I have your ownership papers here somewhere. I’m pretty sure that gets me out of having to pretend to be a gentleman.”
It took me a second to decide he was making fun of me and not being serious. Or at least, not completely serious. Even though he didn’t bother looking at me, I made a face at his back.
“You’re kind of an asshole.”
Oliver snorted and looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes, this incredible shade of green and gold and brown, swept down my body, lingering at my belly and breasts before flicking lazily back up to my face.
“Your friend badly wants to get you laid.” He shrugged and turned to face me, sulking back against the bar. “Is that what you want? A good lashing in my playroom?”
“Not. Even. A little bit.”
He stared at me, hooded eyes all liquid sex and not an ounce of charm. He didn’t blink as he raised his glass to his lips. “Good girl.”
I flushed and uncrossed my arms, uncomfortable by the compliment. And even worse, quietly thrilled that my mouth didn’t betray me for once.
“I…I should go find Julie and Tyler.”
“No.” He didn’t blink. Didn’t move aside from speaking the one word. “Let them have fun. You and I have no interest in what’s going on out there.”
Shiver. “We don’t?”
One eyebrow raised. “Not even a little bit.”
The way he looked at me, I felt like I was seconds away from being swallowed by a lion.
I crossed my arms again. “How do you know what I want?”
Oliver broke his stare and looked down into his half empty glass, eyes widening as if he was surprised to find it half gone and not liking it one bit. “Because you and I want to be anywhere but surrounded by happy people. Misery loves company, right? It doesn’t love being around couples who are perfectly happy, getting everything they fucking want.”
Little dominos collapsed inside of me and I believed him. The growly, hungry, unfed creature in front of me had the same look my heart screamed—It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
He smirked, crushing down his one solitary moment of vulnerability, and held out his half-finished drink to me. I took it from him, sniffed the cloying tequila concoction, and took a drink. It was surprising sweet, like cherries.
Then burned like dragon fire down my throat. I made a face, then took another drink.
“Your body says fuck me, but your thoughts are somewhere else entirely.” He tapped a finger next to left temple. “It’s in the eyes. Also, Kelli ratted you out when she tried to sell me your virginity.” His look clouded, his mouth turning down. “Something about being abandoned by your Dom.”
“She told you about Josh?” My stomach bolted, almost upending the alcohol I’d just consumed. My face heated, leaving me feeling pale and sick. “I’m going to kill her. How could she?”
Both eyebrows shot up. “She didn’t give me a name. That’s interesting. I know a Jo…”
“Don’t.”
“Behave,” he warned, straightening suddenly to his full height, chest puffed out. If I didn’t realize how dominant he was, I did then. I wilted. “Your mouth will get you into trouble if you’re not careful, little sub.”
“I’m not your--”
“Aren’t you?” He slouched again, the disinterest returning. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To be my pet? Did you wear something nice for me under that dress, little sub?”
Immediately I thought of the black lace panties I’d worn just in case. They stretched over my shape just to the bottom of my ass, and I loved how I looked in them. At home I’d imagined what it would be like to have them peeled off by a stranger who was not Josh but just as expert in the art of domination. I’d loved it, hated it, felt guilt and recklessness and excitement.
Now I bristled, shrinking away and baring my teeth at the same time. His disinterest made me hate him and for some insane reason made it unbearable that he clearly didn’t want me. I didn’t want him to want me in the slightest, but then I did.
This was crazy.
“As a matter of fact,” I tugged the hem of my skirt down, “they are gorgeous. Not that you’ll ever find out.”
“Did he tie you up?” he sneered, flashing canines at me. “Was it his rope you fell in love with? Or his belt?”
“Was she beautiful?” I snapped. “Your submissive? Did she wear your collar? Did she beg before she left you?”
There. His vicious grin vanished. His fists tightened on the edge of the bar and his whole body fou
ght to contain that strum of rage. That unrequited longing. Very small tremors shook his arms. I imagined him tearing the room to pieces if I opened my mouth again.
“Yes.” His voice was barely more than a growl. “She was very beautiful.”
I flinched and looked down into my drink that was his, already feeling its potency in my fingers and toes. He was right, my mouth was bound to get me into a lot of trouble.
“She’s a lot like you, actually. Very…” His eyes flashed down my body and I realized why he’d stared so hard at it before.
“Curvy,” I offered, feeling a blush warm my cheeks and neck. “Plus-sized.”
“Yes.” He mmmed at the memory. “More.”
“Smart too?”
“Smarter than me by miles.” A smile threatened to break his sour expression, just the hint of it at the corners of his mouth before he swallowed it whole. “She loves to read. Everything she can get her hands on.”
This was probably going to get me kicked out. Or killed. But I took a little step towards him.
“So, why isn’t she here?”
“No one sold me her virginity.” He exhaled and turned back to making a new drink for himself. “Why aren’t you tied to his bed where you belong, little sub?”
“I hate to break it to you but you got screwed on the virginity deal.”
“Well, fuck.”
He poured four different bottles into his glass, topped with a mint leaf just because. I didn’t think he actually looked at what he poured. I doubted he cared. He was angry and badly wanting to erase something. I could understand that.
“He doesn’t want me. That’s all.”
Oliver stilled and glanced over his shoulder at me. “I find that extremely difficult to believe.”
“He picked someone else.”
He swore softly and looked away.
“She’s engaged,” he told his drink. “And gone for good.”
“This is maybe the most depressing party I have ever been to.”
He barked a laugh and turned towards me, abandoning his drink mix. He closed the distance and took my drink out of my hands, setting it on the counter behind me.