31. Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-one
Nate
Adrian had something up his sleeve. He never invited me to his club, not explicitly, and tonight, he had.
“There’s a rope show. Shibari. You don’t want to miss it,” he’d said.
I’d thought of a lot of reasons to say no. That was Samantha’s workplace. I shouldn’t have been invading—even though I was chomping at the bit to catch a glimpse of her.
It had been over a week. She’d left me at peace as promised, but I hadn’t found any serenity. During the day, I was antsy and anxious, and at night, practically climbing the walls. I missed her in a way that surprised even me. And I’d had time to think about all the reasons I’d asked her for more.
It wasn’t the sex. If that were it, we could have kept going as we were indefinitely. It was her. It was the way we were together. It was wanting to be part of her life in a more meaningful way—an official way that wasn’t predicated on faking something that felt real to me.
I was pretty sure it had felt real to her too, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
Still, ambushing her at work was the last thing I wanted to do.
And Adrian had had an answer to that. “It’s her night off. Don’t worry about it.”
I believed him because I wanted to. Even if Samantha wasn’t at the club, sitting in the dark in the back of the audience made me feel closer to her. It was a glimpse into her life. A taste of where she spent most of her time.
Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest choice, but avoiding feeling anything had gotten me exactly nowhere. So even if I left this club with my guts spilling out, at least I could say I’d chosen that. At least I’d know I was alive.
Adrian stopped by my seat, the spark behind his eyes unmissable even in the dim lighting.
“Are you ready?” He bounced on his toes like a sugar-hyped toddler.
“I…think so.” I sipped my drink, eyeing the stage. “You seem far too excited for me to trust you.”
He patted my shoulder. “Just enjoy yourself tonight.” He chuckled, and it had an evil tinge to it. “I think you will.”
He wandered off, and a glint caught my eye. He’d left a key on the table. I turned it over in my hand and ran my thumb over the “10” on the key chain. He must’ve dropped it by accident. I tucked it in my pocket to give back to him later.
It wasn’t long before the music changed and a lone woman walked onto the stage. She looked familiar from the last time I was here, and when she introduced herself, I knew why.
Madam Cara was dressed in a bloodred leather dress that barely contained her, but she didn’t appear to be concerned about any of her parts falling out. She roved around the stage with a length of silky white rope in her hands, telling the audience about the art of Shibari.
Then she invited two men on stage, one leading the other. She asked the smaller man if she could touch the much larger man. When she was given permission, she positioned him on his knees between them.
The smaller man stroked his partner’s hair as Madam Cara wrapped the rope around his head. He opened his mouth, allowing her to place a knot inside. She told us it was a monkey gag, and from the way the man shuddered when she secured it, he very much liked it.
For her next demonstration, she tied another man’s cock and balls in a way that made me squirm in my seat. I wouldn’t have put it past Adrian to have invited me specifically to see this. It would have explained why he’d seemed so damn delighted.
I pulled my gaze from the stage, decided to people-watch instead. Couples and trios dotted the audience, some watching the show, others intent on each other. I sipped my drink, wondering about these people. How long they’d been members. What they were looking for.
What was I looking for?
Something real.
Something I could feel and taste and touch.
A new volunteer took the stage, drawing my attention. Her long, lithe body was unmistakable. The lights overhead lit Samantha’s cornflower hair like a halo, stealing my breath.
She was wearing a simple black bra and panties, and her hands were clutched together in front of her. At first, I thought she was nervous—the way she was worrying her hands. Then I noticed one thumb rubbing along the length of the opposite one—the place I’d found that soothed her.
I sat up straight, almost lifting out of my seat as Madam Cara wrapped rope around Samantha’s torso. She was speaking, but the rush of blood in my ears was far too loud for me to understand what she was saying.
Samantha’s expression was placid, and her eyes were closed. I wasn’t sure if she was zoned out or enjoying being bound this way.
I couldn’t stay in my seat any longer, but getting up hadn’t been a conscious decision. One moment, I was at my table. The next, I was at the side of the stage, close enough to now see the prickles of goose bumps along Samantha’s flesh.
Madam Cara stroked Samantha’s cheek and whispered words of encouragement. Samantha leaned into her touch, her lashes fluttering, her chest rising sharply.
My hands clenched at my sides. Not from jealousy, but something…
I should have been the one encouraging her. Telling her what a good job she was doing and how pretty she looked with her arms bound in front of her. How perfect the red rope looked against her skin. How well she was doing being a statue.
The rope corralled her, knotting her wrists together and traveling up her arms and around her shoulders. It mapped the curve of her lower breasts and surrounded her waist, crisscrossing in elaborate channels.
Samantha’s head fell back, and her entire body swayed like a ship in a storm. I didn’t do much thinking as I took the stage and pressed my hand to her back.
Her eyes opened, slow to focus on me. Even then, they were cloudy and far away. “Nate.”
“Samantha.” I nuzzled my nose into her hair, breathing her in for the first time in what felt like years. “Can I pick you up?”
She stared at me for a long beat before her eyes fell shut and she leaned into me.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” She was a rag doll, completely pliant as I swept her into my arms, her head lolling on my chest.
Before I could walk away, Madam Cara said, “The knot on the base of her back—untie it and she will unravel.”
With a curt nod, I walked away, at first with no clue where I was going. Then I remembered the key in my pocket.
We were going to room ten.