“It’s a good night for you; you also just made a cool thou in the taxi.”
His response is the most lascivious grin I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face—it travels right into my girly parts—as he takes my hand and we enter the store.
It looks like an ordinary jewelry store—nothing different at all. The saleswoman is a blonde, mid-forties, tan and fit. She immediately assesses Ian, up and down. I know what she’s doing: besides ogling his beauty, she’s appraising him for wealth. Having worked in an upscale shop, I know how these commission hounds operate—especially in New York, where they can tell volumes about a person just by his or her shoes.
Ian is cool as he asks, “May we shop in the rear store, please?”
Blondie nods impassively and steps over to a door, rapping her knuckles on it twice. I hear it unlock and then the door opens and Ian leads me inside.
Oh my God.
Inside the rear store is a sex shop that has every imaginable (and many unimaginable, believe me) toy and accessory anyone could ever want for sex. I’ve never seen anything like it and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see it again. It’s the dildo section that causes me the most distress while also fascinating me: every shape, size, color, and material, is on display. Are there people who will shove anything remotely phallic up there? I gape at Ian and he smiles reassuringly before he begins to completely ignore me. Oh, that’s right: I’m the sub—or second-class citizen—tonight.
Taking my wrist, he pulls me toward a counter that has silver and leather chokers. It takes me a minute before I realize what I’m looking at. Not chokers, dear stupid Ella.
Collars.
There’s a thirtyish woman in purple hair and black leather, manning the counter. If I had to choose one adjective for her, I’d pick formidable even before female. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes,” Ian replies smoothly, “I’m looking for a gold or sterling collar. Something with clean lines, simple yet elegant.”
The woman looks at me curiously as I watch her. Ian catches her glance and whispers in my ear. “Eyes down, Ella.”
Oops. I’m a bad submissive, apparently. After a second, I realize that eyes-down is actually a kindness in this place. I hope he doesn’t think I’m going to kneel on this scuzzy floor, though.
“I like this one. Do you agree?”
I look up to answer him, only to realize he’s speaking to the saleswoman, not me. Apparently I’m not to be consulted for my own collar—and that sounds just so wrong.
“Yes, that one would look lovely on her.” She hands it to Ian and he sweeps my hair to one side to put it around my throat. “Yes. We’ll take this one.”
Chancing a glance up, I see the woman looks delighted. I take a wild guess that the collar is pricey and she just scored a hefty commission.
“Here’s my credit card. Don’t close out the balance until we’re finished shopping.
“Of course, sir. Will she be wearing the collar or would you like it packed up?”
“Wear, I think.” Still holding my wrist, he leads me to the other side of the store. An older man, also in black leather, is managing this side and I immediately feel way more uncomfortable, especially seeing the items Ian is homing in on. Oh, no.
“May I see that one?” he asks the man. “The one with the gemstones?”
The man says nothing but efficiently removes the item requested, handing it to Ian. I sneak a peek, trying to figure out what it is. It’s sterling silver and it’s thicker on one side but the narrow side ends in a wider piece and is surrounded by those gemstones. I’m not sure but I think it goes up a person’s butt so the gemstones stick out—jewelry for the ass is taking the whole concept of adornment a bit far, in my opinion.
While I’m keeping my eyes down, Ian buys some other things. I don’t even want to look anymore: I’m so ready to leave. After he pays for the items he’s selected, he asks for the use of a private room and the redhead ushers us through yet another door. I feel as if each door sends me into an alternate universe. Now Ian and I are alone in a small red and purple room with a huge gilded mirror and an antique plush-velvet couch.
He sits on the couch. “Ella, come here. This,” he holds up the silver thing, “has been sterilized—I just watched the salesman do it. I’m going to put lubrication on it and insert it in you. I want you to wear it until we get back to the hotel. Any questions?”
“Just one. Where are you going to insert it exactly?”
“In your pretty little hindquarters.”
“I don’t think so, Ian.”