Chapter Eleven
Sutton
Dominus opens the bathroom door, startling the blonde woman on the other side, her hand hovering in the air just seconds away from knocking again. Stunned into a stupor by his parting instructions, it takes me a moment to realize it’s not just any blonde woman; it’s my blonde bestie.
“Oh!” Mo exclaims. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you…”
Her words trail off as my masked man steps past her, inclining his head in silent acknowledgement, then he disappears into the hallway.
Mo hurries into the bathroom and pushes the door shut, then locks it and flips the light switch upward. I blink at the harsh light, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the fluorescents after so long in candlelight.
Spinning to face me, she whisper-yells, “Holy shit, are you okay? Who was that? Where have you been? Have you been in here the whole time? With the door locked…? Why was the door locked? What were you doing?” She huffs when I don’t answer right away, then continues, “Seriously, Sutty, are you good? Are you okay? You look… you look flustered.”
Mo pulls her layers of ruffled tulle up around her waist, then settles onto the toilet, going commando again as usual. “Fuck, I’ve had to pee for ages.”
I bark out a laugh, then bring my hand up to cover my mouth, speaking against my palm. “I’m sorry, Mo, I guess we were in here for a little while.”
“Yeah.” She scoffs, then her eyes narrow. “You’re bright red, girl. What the hell happened in here?”
My eyes flick to my reflection in the mirror and I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me.
My mask is askew, hair somehow disheveled even though I can’t recall his hands sifting through it. My cheeks are red, but the flush doesn’t stop there. It travels down my throat to my chest, disappearing into my dress. Reaching behind my head, I untie the satin ribbon and remove my face mask.
“I’m… good?” I grimace because that’s a terrible response, but also… I’m good.
Better than good.
I haven’t come like that in, like… ever.
With a grunt, my best friend stands and flushes the toilet, then unties her mask and pulls it off her face.
“You’re good? With a question mark? Are you not sure?
” Reaching past me to wash her hands, she eyes me in the mirror’s reflection.
Her eyes flick frantically over my face, my chest, down my body and back up again.
“What were you doing in here? Did you just have a random hook-up with some Ghostface wannabe?”
Shaking my head, I drop my hand, then turn toward the sink, bracing myself with my hands splayed out over the cool porcelain countertop. “That wasn’t a Scream mask, Imogen.”
“Whatever.” She snorts. Her gaze flicks to the door, then back to my reflection in the mirror. “Did he do something to you?”
I shake my head, hating the lie, but not ready to share what just happened to me. For now, this is my secret, my moment.
It feels… I don’t know, sacred.
Her eyes remain wide, searching, still unsure. She knows me well enough to know that something happened in this bathroom, but she’s not pushing me for answers. Which is good, because I’m not sure I have the words to explain what I just did.
After a moment, she finally exhales and says, “He was so big.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “You certainly have a type.”
“What?”
Mo snorts. “Never mind, girl. You can be delulu.”
Frowning, I turn on the cold water to cool my wrists. Good grief, I’m about a thousand degrees past overheated. “He was so hot.”
“How do you even know?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror, lips twitching on a smile.
“He took off his mask?”
I shake my head.
“Sutton! You couldn’t even see his face!” She shakes her head. “He could look like Freddy Krueger under there.”
Somehow, I don’t think he does. I’m also, curiously, not sure I care.
“I’m not going to spend time with him for his looks—”
When her eyes practically bulge out of her head, I slam my mouth shut, realizing I’ve said too much.
“I’m sorry, what now?” She reaches past me to turn off the water, then hands me a towel. It’s one of those fancy, custom throw-away paper towels, embossed at the bottom with the same intricate, gold rabbit logo that was on the invitation.
The Rabbit Hole. I sigh as I trace my fingertips over the gold embossing. I don’t know what I expected when I came here tonight, but it wasn’t this. I’ve never felt so… so freed.
Per the company website, which was damn near impossible to find before I accidentally stumbled upon that forum, The Rabbit Hole was created and overseen by a woman and geared toward the pleasure and safety of all clientele, but with an emphasis on their female-identifying clients.
From what little I’ve experienced thus far, I’d say the people behind this club know what they’re doing.
With just one meeting, my masked man could read me like a book and knew exactly what I needed from him.
Sure, he made me speak my thoughts aloud, but that’s all part of the rules.
Rules and guidelines that, though extensive, stem from safety and consent above all else.
In a world where safety and consent are rarely centered, this feels like a godsend.
I’ve only just met Dominus, but he was clear about consent, adamant about verbal communication. I bite my lip to keep from smiling—
“Hello?” Imogen snaps her fingers, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I toss the towel into the bin and take a deep, steadying breath. Then I look her in the eyes and tell her the truth. “I’m going to join.”
“What?” she shrieks. “Y-you,” she sputters, “you didn’t even want to come!”
Laughing, I lift my hands in surrender. “I know, I know. But now…” I shrug. “I don’t know, I think I’m interested, you know? Like I want to…I don’t know…”
“Expand your experiences?” she says with comically wide eyes.
Chuckling, I nod. “Yeah.”
Mo crosses her arms and leans back against the counter, staring at me as she shakes her head slowly. “I had no idea you were so secretly kinky.”
I level her with a pointed look. “You’re literally the only person who’s seen my bookshelf.”
“True, but…” Her eyes narrow. “Real life and fantasy don’t often cross.”
“And yet…” I motion to our surroundings.
“Honestly, I never really thought about this kind of thing in real life. It was always separate, like a world only fictional characters got to participate in. The fact that it’s real…
” I shake my head, biting down on my bottom lip to keep from grinning like a maniac.
The fact that men like Dominus exist has me floored. Butterflies dance drunkenly in my stomach. My cheeks heat as memories of the way he touched me flood my mind.
The way he spoke to me…
The way he knew what I needed even when I didn’t…
Mo’s lips purse as she watches me work through my thoughts, then she shrugs. “Okay, well, I’m like the total opposite…” She grimaces. “I don’t think this is for me.”
My eyes widen, then I lean in. “Did something happen?”
“No, God, I just… I don’t know, everyone’s in like leather and latex, and I haven’t found a single guy I’m attracted to. Half of them are old enough that if I called them Daddy, they might actually think I’m their long-lost daughter.”
I snort, then cover my mouth. “I’m sorry I left you out there to fend for yourself.” Slipping my hand into hers, I give it a gentle squeeze. “We can go.”
Her eyes narrow. “What about your serial killer?” She waves her free hand around her face. “Leatherman.”
Dominus.
Rolling my eyes, I open the bathroom door and tug her out into the hallway. We’re both holding our masks in our hands, so anyone could see us and recognize us, but honestly, I have my doubts that anyone we know would be at an event like this.
As anticipated, no one calls out our names or stops us on our way out the doors of the mansion.
After a brief wait, our ride finally arrives at the gate, then makes the long ascent up the driveway.
We leave without incident, though a lingering twinge of regret blooms in my chest as we begin the drive home.
I’ll miss my masked man’s performance, but it’s not like I’ll never see him again.
I know exactly where to find him.