Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Harmon
I walk through the front door, lifting two fingers to the bouncer who pushes open the next door to allow me inside.
“Evening, Mister Stone,” he says in a low, rumbling voice, his gaze holding mine steady.
I tip my head, and walk into the dim hallway, down the deep red carpet that’s worn from traffic.
The walls are made of stone, the sconces letting off dull golden light, giving the place an almost gothic feel.
The door ahead of me is made of leather, padded, with studs placed in an artistic way.
This club hasn’t changed in twenty years, and I don’t expect it ever will.
Before stepping inside, I pick up the blue bracelet from the table in the corner, putting it on my left wrist. It hides under my sleeve, but I’m not the approachable type, so most stay away, anyway.
Those who do come to me are welcomed. I enjoy their curious questions, and the obvious and sometimes over-the-top flirting can be entertaining.
God knows I’m not getting much else from this place. I haven’t been lucky in a long time.
I come to Dark Rose enough that the staff know me and know why I’m here—what I’m looking for. They’re also aware enough to know that I’ve found it when I stop showing up for a long period of time. But they know I will always be back because it never lasts.
When I have a slave, the club isn’t needed. But it’s been a good place to frequent for years now, and so it’s my go-to when I am in need—and I have been in need for some time now.
I push through the doors, stepping into a darkened room with low, sexy music playing in the background. The bar across the room is lit up with red lights, every seat taken and the two bartenders rushing around smoothly to ensure everyone has what they need.
I go straight there, where Missy, a young bartender who has worked here for a few years, smiles at me, and asks, “Your usual?”
“Please.”
She nods and makes me my drink—whiskey neat. She swipes my card and asks if I’d like to leave my tab open. I tell her yes, then I find a dark corner to watch from while I sip my drink.
It’s the same routine every time I come here, and it’s not that it’s boring, as I do enjoy watching, I just wish there was more.
Dark Rose has become busier over the years, with acceptance of this lifestyle becoming more popular.
Nowadays, though, most of the clientele are couples looking for a third.
Which makes it more difficult for me, when that is the last thing I want.
Not only do I not share, but there isn’t a single part of a relationship that interests me.
Still, I have my needs. Though, I am growing tired and discouraged with this place, as I haven’t had a single prospect in close to a year.
There were a few men I spoke to, but none of whom were interested.
Some of the staff that I’ve chatted with have mentioned going online, but that feels so… mechanical. I understand shopping for necessities online—stores are a nightmare—but something as personal as finding a slave? It’s not right.
I sip my drink as I scan the crowd, watching and waiting. Couples flirt with each other and others, trying to decide if they’re the right one to take home. Singles talk to other singles. Solos sit and watch. Everyone inside wears a band—it’s policy to ensure a safe environment.
Red wants to flirt.
Green wants to date.
Black wants to not be bothered.
Pink is a couple looking for another.
But blue is the only color I care about.
Blue means they’re interested in alternative lifestyles. My lifestyle. It’s the only option there is for me. The only thing I want.
They are few and far between these days, since people have learned they can have their cake and eat it too.
Polycules and open relationships have become much more popular, so why settle with one person when you can have multiple?
And my other issue? Most of the people wearing blue bands are women—and that is not my taste.
I watch for a long time, my patience running thin, and I’ve already considered leaving three times. But I decide to get one more drink, and boy, am I glad I do.
He’s sitting on the stool at the end of the bar to the left, looking like a timid animal.
I’m not sure how I missed him when he walked in.
He wasn’t sitting there when I came up to the bar last time.
I must have been looking the other way or distracted by the fight that nearly broke out.
It happens now and then. People think they can handle this with their partners, and it turns out they can’t.
It’s why I could never consider that particular type of set up.
I can’t handle jealousy or someone trying to control my life.
I’m the one who needs control, in all aspects, and I won’t have someone else telling me what to do.
I’m forty-six, for Christ’s sake. I’m not a child and won’t be treated like one.
“What is he drinking?” I ask Missy, nodding to the young man I’ve been eying.
He’s just my type. Not too muscular, but not too skinny.
He looks healthy but not like he cares about being strong.
His dark hair is slightly too long, a few strands hanging over his forehead in a messy way.
It’ll give me something to run my fingers through while he kneels for me.
His lips are full and pink, and I can see how thick his lashes are from here.
He’s a pretty boy, and a pretty boy is exactly what I’m after.
“You should ask him,” the bartender says, winking at me.
Of course it’s not her job to scout people for me, or for anyone else, but I notice the way some of them assist in meetings.
They get a feel for people’s personalities and can tell if they don’t want to be bothered, even if their wristband says otherwise.
Something about this boy must tell her that he won’t mind me going up to him.
So, I do just that. Confidence is not something I am lacking.
I want what I want, and I’m not afraid to take it or persuade someone into it.
After I get my drink, I walk to the end of the bar and move between him and the woman beside him, who is talking to someone on her other side.
“Good evening,” I say, looking directly at him.
When he looks at me, his eyes widen, flick down to my tie and stare there long enough for his lips to part. Then his bright eyes dart back to mine. They’re the same shade as my tie, a beautiful sky blue. Crystal clear. It’s my favorite color.
He’s younger up close, but he looks tired. Maybe he’s been here a while. It is getting late.
“Hello,” he says in a soft, smooth voice. “Uh, good evening.”
“I’d like to buy you a drink,” I say boldly.
“Oh, uh, okay. Sure.”
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
He glances at his empty glass, before putting those beautiful eyes back on me.
“Vodka and cranberry, but it wasn’t very good.”
“May I suggest something else?”
“Please.”
I gesture for Missy, who comes over with a polite but knowing smile. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”
“My usual, and an orange tea for him.” I glance back at him. “Him?” I question, realizing I should have asked before assuming.
“Yes,” he says.
I nod in acknowledgement, and ask, “Would you like to go somewhere we can talk better?”
“Yes.”
Our drinks come a moment later, and I step back, giving him room to stand. “Which floor would you like to go to?” I ask as I hand him his glass.
“You pick,” he says quickly.
“Is this your first time here?” I ask as I walk with him to the elevator, taking the lead while keeping an eye that he’s following.
“Is it that obvious?”
I smirk as we step onto the car and press the button for floor three. “A little. But I will admit it’s endearing.”
The doors close and open up a moment later. We step into an open room that is much quieter than the one downstairs. Soft, classical music plays up here, drifting through small speakers in the corners. It’s a calmer and more relaxed setting.
“May I show you my favorite spot?” I ask.
“Yes.”
He’s agreeable, and I’m not sure if it comes from desperation or something else. Time will tell, I suppose.
Physically, he’s exactly what I’m looking for. Mentally? I’m not sure yet.
What I’m looking for in a man, is not for the weak. Anyone can’t jump into the role I need and be good at it just because I want them to. With training, some will be good, but some aren’t made out for it. Some don’t have a natural disposition for it.
It’s why I struggle to keep a slave in the first place and find new ones when they’re needed. But if it isn’t working, then we can’t force it. That does more damage than is worth it. My goal isn’t to hurt anyone—I just want my needs met.
My lifestyle isn’t for everyone, and I need to make sure I vet people properly before taking this a step further. It’s a long process, but it’s necessary. Without it, I could ruin my life—and theirs.
We make our way down the hall, him at my side, keeping my pace. His outfit is simple: black T-shirt, black jeans, and boots. He went for discreet, which I like.
I find an empty room and let us into it, shutting the door behind us. He lets out a sound I can only describe as a squeak, which I find delightful.
“Is this too much?” I ask as I take a step closer to him. “We can leave.”
I keep the disappointment from my voice, because I was truly hoping we could move this onto the next step. But if he can’t handle a little Kinbaku, there is no way he can handle what I will ask for.
“No,” he says, gazing at the glass wall ahead of us. “I just… wasn’t expecting this.”
“And what were you expecting at a sex club?”
He turns to me with a shy smile. “Fair question.” His attention goes back to the glass, focusing on the three women beyond it who are tied up in intricate designs. One rope is yellow, another orange, and the last red.
“Is this bondage?” he questions. I don’t miss the awe in his voice, and from that, I can tell he’d be fun to train.