We settled in our usual booth in the back right corner. When we'd first come here, we'd sat in the same place. Tanner said that this was his favorite spot because it gave him the ability to see around the entire club and to watch the shows unobstructed. Before he and I had gotten together, he'd used the position to see if there was anyone he wanted to take to a room. Now, he said it was perfect for just the two of us.
I slid around the circular booth until I was right next to him. I didn't have to wait long before he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me tight against him. I relaxed almost immediately. There was just something soothing about his touch, about having his arm around me. It was like, no matter what I went through in a day, no matter what problems I might've had, they couldn't touch me when I was with him.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice pitched low so that no one else could hear him, even if anyone had been inclined to try.
I shook my head. “Just the same old shit,” I said. “Nothing specific and nothing new. I just need to get out of my head for a while.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I'll take care of you.”
“Yes, Sir.” I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself enjoy his closeness, the scent of his detergent and shampoo.
There were times I wondered if he and I had gotten to a place in our relationship and simply stopped growing, stopped moving forward. I wondered if this holding pattern we’d had for the past few years was healthy. We didn't fight, and the sex was still great, but I couldn't help wondering if this was what we really needed.
This wasn't one of those times. Being here, like this, with him, reminded me of what was good about the two of us together. How well we did fit, how we complemented each other's personalities and needs.
“Open your eyes.” His voice held that note of authority that I wasn't to disobey.
I did as I was told.
“I want you to watch,” he said, his fingers skimming over the bare skin of my arm. “And I want you to think about what it's going to feel like when I do those things to you.”
Even as a waitress set a glass of wine in front of me, I focused in on the stage. Two people were climbing the steps. A man and a woman. I'd seen them both around before, but I'd never seen them perform.
The man was tall, muscular and blond. His face had a sort of rugged handsomeness to it, rough edges and a strong jawline. I was pretty sure Tanner had called him Alan. The woman was petite, barely hitting five feet tall. She had long dark hair that was pulled back in a complicated set of braids. Her skin was flushed beneath her normal caramel tone, and I wondered if it was embarrassment or arousal. Probably both. Her name was Melanie, I knew. I'd talked to her once or twice. She was a physical therapist, so we'd conversed about our similar fields and some of the extra classes I'd taken.
They were like Tanner and me – she being a Submissive to his Dominate, and a couple outside as well. And also like us, he had been the one to introduce her to this world.
We weren't, however, like them in one way. I was okay with some touching in public, but I wasn't an exhibitionist. Neither was Tanner. He'd never once asked me to perform with him on stage or anything like that, and I was grateful. Then again, a good Dom would never force his or her Sub into something they were truly uncomfortable with. There always had to be that little edge of excitement to the anxiety to make it okay, but there were limits.
“Alan's been planning this for weeks,” Tanner said, his lips moving against my ear. “It should be quite a show.”
I nodded, more in acknowledgment than agreement, though I didn't doubt his words. I was just too mesmerized by what was happening to form much of a response.
A bench was on the stage, but not just any bench, and definitely not the kind that a person sat on. It was the sort of bench that people in our circles used for...other purposes. Purposes that were about to be thoroughly displayed very soon.
Melanie was wearing a wraparound dress, overly modest for this sort of setting. Alan was wearing a pair of low-cut jeans and nothing else. Since the last time I'd seen him, he'd gotten his nipple pierced. The gold hoop glinted in the overhead lights.
“Kneel.” His voice wasn't loud, but it carried well. The acoustics in the building were amazing, allowing the audience to hear everything.
She knelt on the padded rail in front of the bench, her head down.
“Strip.”
Alan's voice held authority similar to Tanner’s, but the Sub inside me didn't respond to him. I hadn't come into this world alone, exploring my desires with different people. Tanner had taught me, groomed me, but he'd made me his girlfriend as well as his Sub. I'd never been with anyone else, never felt the need to. I knew some Subs felt like they had to submit to all Doms, but that wasn't me.