Chapter 15
James
Watching that woman on stage with her sub was mesmerising. So understated and subtle, but the way she held his gaze whilst he showed her how beautiful she is, was searing, like there was no one else around. God, what I’d do to have a woman like that.
I became so transfixed and engrossed in their scene that my cock started to get hard, and I crossed my legs in my seat to will it away. Unless I want to get it out and deal with it in front of everyone, which is still very much a step too far for me, I need a distraction.
I stand and turn towards the bar, searching for a refill.
My eyes fall upon the woman at the bar. It’s her legs that catch my attention, the line running up her calves like an invitation to look higher.
Her skirt catches the light, and the satin hugs her full curves, showcasing her thighs and rounded cheeks perched on the bar stool. I force myself to
Yes, Miss
look down as I approach; this is making it very difficult to get rid of my hard-on.
As I lean on the bar top, I look to my right, facing the woman. “Good evening.”
She sits there, looking at me with no response.
Well, shit, this is awkward. I’ve heard some Dommes want to be addressed by titles like Mistress, but I’ve been warned that it’s considered impolite unless she is my Mistress.
God, this stuff can get confusing. Why can’t I just talk to someone like a normal person?
“Okay, maybe I’ve made a mistake. Please excuse me. Am I meant to address you by a title to say hello?” I play with the drinks coaster in my hand, wishing I didn’t feel so embarrassed. What the fuck am I doing here? Maybe I don’t fit in after all.
“Oh, erm… Gosh, no. Sorry!” she sputters out.
She’s cute. She looks every inch a vampy queen in her corset and skirt.
Her full breasts are pushed up, but with a fine layer of black chiffon covering her chest and shoulders, providing coverage but sheer enough to glimpse what’s beneath.
The masquerade mask glints in the light, leaving only her deep blue eyes and full red lips on show.
She looks nervous, not what I’d expect of a Domme, but maybe I’m wrong and she’s a sub too.
“Hi, I’m, erm… I’m Belle.” She gives a bright smile as she holds out her hand, and I take it in mine to give it a
Alexandra Ravensbrook
gentle shake. Her long, slender fingers are warm and soft in mine, the feel of her skin giving me a shiver. It’s felt so long since someone has touched me, and Christ, I’ve missed it.
She gently pulls her hand away, making me realise I’ve held on to it for a little too long.
“Belle,” I say. “It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. I’m James. I haven’t seen you here before.” Not that I’ve been here much, but it’s been so long since I’ve tried talking to a woman I don’t know, and I’m a little out of practice. She’s so clearly out of my league.
She seems to relax a little in her seat. “Have you been a member long? This is my first night here.”
“Actually, no. I only joined about six months ago but don’t get down here much. Is it the first time you’ve joined a club?” I have a little spark of hope that maybe she’s just as new to all of this as I am and I won’t look a total idiot.
She looks down at her drink, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the stem of her glass like she’s trying to work out her answer.
“I just moved to the area. I worked at my last club for a few years. I tended the bar and got into the scene that way.” She pauses, and I realise I’ve been watching her fingers far longer than would be considered normal.
Yes, Miss
My eyes snap back up to her face, all thoughts of her fingers stroking anything of mine pushed firmly aside. She’s clearly more experienced than me.
“So, tell me, James. Do you like what you see tonight?”
Of course I do. She’s gorgeous. Her subtle confidence and glinting eyes captivate me. Her rounded hips and ass make me want to sink my fingers and teeth into them and feel that soft flesh give under my touch. She’d be a feast worth savouring.
“Are you asking if I like the scenes on stage, or you? Because it’s a definite yes on both counts.”
She laughs and looks down at the bar, a smirk playing across her soft lips.
“Well played, James. Very smooth.” She hesitates a little, looks at me with those deep blue eyes that remind me of a tropical lagoon, and then asks seriously, “James, do you like to sub or Dom? I’d hate for us to be looking for different things here and misunderstand each other.”
She’s nothing if not direct.
My mind whirrs while formulating my answer, and I decide to go with honesty. “Belle, I’ll be honest with you. I’m not entirely sure.”
I run my hand through my hair, starting to feel a little uncomfortable. She must sense this as she rests her hand on my arm. “Talk to me, James. Let’s figure it out,” she
Alexandra Ravensbrook
says gently, coaxing me into a feeling of relaxation. Her tone is soft, yet brooks no argument, and I feel like I can talk to her, open up, like we’ve talked for hours already, but it’s only been a matter of minutes.
“Alright,” I murmur, stepping back from the bar with my new drink in hand, sweeping my arm in front of me in a mock bow and motioning for her to join me back at the table. This isn’t a conversation I want at the bar.
She takes her seat at my table, crossing her legs at her ankles and leaning forward, elbows propped on the table, chin resting atop one hand and her drink in the other. “Okay, James. Tell me. What is it that brought you here?” she asks.
I sigh and lean forward, resting on my forearms and closing the gap between us, our faces now only a few inches apart. The thrumming beat of the background music reverberates through my chest, the bass strong yet low enough for us to hear each other.
I take a deep breath and decide to tell her everything. “I like to surrender control. To be directed in what to do, to give pleasure, for my partner to use me as she likes. I suppose that would be me being submissive. But sometimes, I do like to be the one in charge, just… not as often, I suppose.”
I look down into my drink, totally confused. Am I neither a sub nor a Dom?
Yes, Miss
“Ah,” Belle says. “Well then, James, you are what we would term a switch.”
“A switch?” I look up, confused. “What’s that mean for me?”
She relaxes and sits back in her seat. She brings her leg up to cross at the knees, giving me a glance of her lace stocking tops through the slit that runs up the side of her skirt. I shift in my seat, feeling myself getting turned on again.
“James, relax. It’s not terminal,” she laughs, prompting me to chuckle too.
I finally take a breath and relax a little.
“Switches are those who like to mix it up a little. I’m a Domme, James.
I like to be in control. I can be submissive outside of a scene, but not often.
Not often at all.” She trails off slightly, taking a steadying breath, her eyes dulling momentarily like a shadow drifting across her vision.
"Submissives like to be dominated, told what to do.
Switches often find they have a predominant style, either Dom or sub, but they also like to do a bit of both, depending on their mood.
They like to sample the best of both worlds.
And you, James, appear to be a switch." Her hand rests on my forearm, gently squeezing in reassurance.
She takes a long, slow sip of her drink, the liquid glistening on her full lips, capturing my full attention.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
"Is this new to you? Have you had someone to talk to and guide you? Talk about safety, boundaries, red flags?"
"No, never. My ex-wife wasn’t interested at all.
We ended up with very different needs, and since then, I’ve kind of drifted into this.
I started coming here to see if this was something I enjoyed," I say, feeling like a lost soul drifting along. This woman is so stunning and sexy, but she has a kind heart, too. It’s a beautifully heady combination; one I don’t want to resist.
Her breasts rise with a deep breath as she smiles at me but seems to falter a little as she stands from her seat.
She pauses a beat. "Then, James, I would highly recommend you find someone who can talk to you about this and guide you through your first experiences, someone you feel comfortable talking with and that you can bounce ideas off.
Goodnight, James. It was lovely to meet you. "
Smoothing her skirt down, she turns and walks away.
My stomach drops. I don’t want her to leave.
I want to keep talking to her. She could be that person, surely.
She’s so easy to talk to, despite how much I want to touch her, to feel those silky waves slip through my fingers, to run my tongue up those soft thighs, to squeeze her plump ass cheeks in my hands.
And her breasts? I could kiss them, bite them, and stroke them for hours.
Why the hell am I just sitting here? My heart pounds as my mind freezes, trying to decide what the hell I should
Yes, Miss
do. If I let her walk away, I may never see her again, but if I go after her, she might tell me she’s not interested, and I’m not sure how I’d deal with that.
Move, James. Move for fuck’s sake, my inner voice screams at me.
Heart pounding, I shoot up from my chair and jog across the bar to the foyer, desperate to find her, to see those eyes again. I search the adjoining rooms, scanning the foyer for any trace of her, but there’s no sign of her.
The hostess watches me as I run about. I approach her, breathless and panicked. My heart pounds in my chest, and nausea rolls through me as I think about never seeing her again. It all felt so right. I need to see her again. I can’t let her go.
"Did you see her? The woman with the black mask?" I ask the hostess, panting.
"I’m sorry, sir," she says. "She just left. You’ve missed her.”
I run out the front door and throw my hands up in hopelessness as I watch the black cab pulling away and down the street.