It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust when something bright in the center of the room sends a sharp sting to my gaze. The floors are black and white marble, reminding me of a game of chess, and a glass swan sculpture rests on a large table in the center of a circular foyer. It’s lit from below and above with a soft, incandescent glow that shows off the facets and rainbow glimmers in the angles of the sculpted creature. It’s not glass it’s crystal.
Of course.
“I’ll be showing her around, and then we’ll finish in the gallery,” Dane says to the greeter.
“Enjoy.” The man holds up a white-gloved hand and points down a long corridor.
This place isn’t visible from the street, and I’m willing to bet money it’s not in any phone book or directory. My palms moisten, and I pray he doesn’t try to take my hand. He can never know how intimidating this place is.
Exotic lounge music pipes down hidden speakers, growing louder as we reach a large room at the end of a hall. Men’s laughter echoes off the high ceilings.
“Hi, Master Dane.” A woman slinks by in pure white lingerie wearing an eye mask with white feathers splaying out from the sides. Her head is held low as she addresses him. Lengthy white feathers drip down her backside, dragging on the floor while she walks in five inch, Swarovski-crystal-encrusted stilettos.
“Lauren,” he says, giving her a nod. He still holds onto me though I’m a half step behind him, and when we enter the room with the music and the men and the laughter, I finally see why.
All eyes fall on me the second we stand in the doorway. Dane’s hand slips to my waist, hooking me and pulling me against him. I breathe him in like he’s the oxygen I need to survive this warped little world I’ve just set foot in.
“This room is for open play,” he says. “The Swans in white are submissives and the Swans in black are the Dominatrices.”
A svelte woman in a shiny leather bustier with a matching g-string and a whip flashes me a red-lipped smile. I don’t see her eyes because they’re covered in a black-feathered mask. She, too, wears a floor-grazing tail.
“Well, well, well.” The drunken slur of a man’s voice originates from behind us. We turn to see an older patron with a greasy forehead and a tumbler of gin and tonic staring at me with a stupid grin on his crooked mouth. “Are we initiating today or what’s the deal with this one? Is she a free for all or what?”
Dane’s open palm presses into my hip followed by the dig of his fingertips.
“She’s with me, Donny. Move along.” The low growl of his words elicits an eyebrow raise from the drunkard.
Donny pushes between us, and for a second I’m sure he’s going to cop a feel on his way through, but to my relief he doesn’t. He’s just smashed.
“Did he touch you?” Dane’s lips reach my ears, his voice throaty.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good.” He releases me and straightens his collar before smoothing his hand down his front breast pocket. “This is a classy establishment, I can assure you of that, but there are some who were grandfathered in and given lifetime memberships. And some of them refuse to adhere to the policies.”
“It’s okay.” I want him to take my hand. Being protected and watched over, like I matter to someone, is a foreign sensation that creeps over and under my skin, simmering and settling like an old friend I never knew I missed. Dane wouldn’t want me reading into it, though, and I’m sure it’s all part of the package, so I force that warmth away like it was never there.
We leave the playroom and turn down another dimly lit hall, stopping before a set of black double doors. Dane swipes a card from his pocket and the lock on the door clicks.
“What’s this?”
Glass shelves line the walls, filled with what I can only assume are sexual toys and oddities. It’s set up like a store, though I’ve yet to see a price tag anywhere. A top-lit glass case displays a myriad of chokers with fabrics ranging from satins and velvets to leathers and lace. Some have sharp metal spikes while others have crystals and gemstones dangling from them.
Dane abandons my side, whooshing across the room to a shelf of see-through phallic objects. Only when I step closer, do I see what he’s looking at. He grabs a clear one and inspects it, for what I’m not sure. He moves to the next shelf, pulling a white package with some c-shaped object off the shelf. It’s still brand new and wrapped in cellophane.
These things are all for me. Obviously. I try to swallow as my nerves get the best of me, but my mouth is cotton.
“You doing okay?” he asks, his eyes scrunched as he scans the rest of the room.