Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Moving around the apartment, Lottie straightened the throw pillows on her new sofa.
She’d painted the entire place giving it a fresh look, one it desperately needed, and slowly put together the apartment in her style.
She didn’t want to live in the past and the place had that feel when she moved in.
Shortly after, she started packing up all the little things that Sway had left behind.
Moving to the kitchen, Lottie pulled out an open bottle of red wine and poured out the last glass from it. Taking a sip, she checked her nails. The polish color was the perfect red and matched the lipstick she had chosen for the night.
Sultry blues music played from the Bluetooth speakers placed around the apartment.
She’d designed the esthetics of her home with the intention of having girls’ nights, and dinners with her friends.
That hadn’t happened, though. Sighing, Lottie headed to take her bath and to start getting dressed for her evening.
Lottie stood wrapped in a towel staring at the contents of her bedroom closet.
She didn’t know why she was standing there trying to decide what she was going to wear.
She was going to wear the dress. The one she had given Sway.
The one that she’d put on multiple times with the intent of going out.
It remained in the garment bag hanging at the back of the closet. Right where she put it months back.
She knew how the damn thing looked on her.
How it felt decadent when she slipped it on the first and last time.
The big question on her mind was could she put it on and go to the club tonight?
It was a test of her willpower. Continue to hide inside her apartment or prove to herself she could go out for an evening.
Turning from the closet, Lottie walked over to the dresser and picked up the black linen invitation and flipped it open. She ran her fingers over the gold embossed words.
You’re invited to a night of Decadence
Place: The Red Door
Entrance: 9pm
Cocktails and Nibbles: 9:30pm
Entertainment begins: 10pm
“I can do this.” She’d always wanted to attend an evening at the elite club. She’d always ran with high rollers and had been added to more than a few VIP lists over the years. This was the first time she’d garnered an invitation to the BDSM club.
Checking the time, she had plenty of time to get dressed. Tugging the towel from her body, she tossed it on the bed grabbing up her robe. Wrapping herself in the satin kimono, Lottie headed for the kitchen. There was a bottle of wine she’d been meaning to enjoy, and tonight was the time.
Reaching in the cabinet, she took down a new glass.
Setting it on the counter, she pulled out the wine opener and plucked the cork from the dark glass bottle.
Pouring the rich wine into the glass, the ripe cassis wafting up towards her nose.
Lifting the glass she breathed in the boutique of blackberry and blue fruits.
Swirling the dark liquid she watched how it danced in the glass.
Lottie stepped into the soft light of her bedroom, the rich red of Bordeaux glowing in the dim light.
The faint, smoky notes of Nina Simone’s voice filled the space, wrapping around her like an embrace.
There was something about the way the music hummed in her chest that matched the weight of the wine in her hand.
She placed it on the nightstand, its deep hue contrasting with the cool tones of her room.
She moved to her closet, letting the rhythm of the song guide her steps.
A night out wasn’t something she did often anymore, but tonight felt different.
The wine helped loosen the edges of the day, and as she sifted through dresses, she considered the moment she was about to create—each choice an act of self-expression, an opportunity to step into something new, even if only for an evening.
She reached back out for her glass and took another sip, savoring the lingering complexity of the wine on her tongue, detecting a touch of chaparral. The entry was robust with notes of blackberry pie, black cherry, and had an impressive weight. It rounded out with a lingering touch of orange peel.
Something about the night felt full of promise, a quiet thrill that came with the anticipation of stepping out into the world after so much time spent in its shadows.
Returning to the kitchen she poured another glass. Lottie headed back to her bedroom where she could get ready for an evening out.
Opening the closet again, she slid all the clothes to the right until she got to the bag. Pulling it out, she hung it on the closet door and unzipped the garment bag. As the bag opened, the blood red vinyl peered out at her. Standing there she sipped as she admired the dress.
Staring at the dress, she thought it was perfect for an evening at an elite BDSM club! She was going out and she was going to have a damn good time. She’d wear the come-fuck-me dress and pair it with the new black stilettos that arrived earlier in the week.
Leaving the dress hanging on the door, she went to her lingerie cabinet and skimmed through her collection of dainties, picking out a black satin garter along with a pair of French silk stockings.
Laying the items on the bed, she sat down at her dressing table to do her hair and makeup in her signature style.
An hour later, she was two and a half glasses in as she stripped out of the kimono. Adorning her undergarments, Lottie sat down and slipped on the stockings. She stood up and turned her back to the full-length mirror in the corner. She loved the stitch line running up the back of her legs. Sexy.
Stepping into the shoes, she walked seductively towards the dress like she would approach a lover. She slid into the dress feeling like herself for the first time in a long time.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Lottie remembered how she felt the last time she stood in that very dress. Decadent, dangerous, and dominant. All three words that described her to a tee as she stood looking at herself. “I do look good.”
She grabbed her full-length black coat from the closet and tugged it on, buttoning it up, then grabbed her purse.
She got to the door; her hand hovering over the knob.
Sighing, Lottie turned and walked back to the kitchen and poured another glass of wine.
She drank it down, licked her lips, and squared her shoulders.
It wasn’t as if she was going to the club to have sex.
No, this was an evening of watching the art of sex.
Maybe a little voyeurism would help get her past her issues.
Determined not to let the memory of Dawson keep her from having a nice evening, Lottie opened the door and walked out.