“No, it wasn’t. It was a fetish club.”
“Ooh, seriously? He never took me to anything like that. Was he hiding a side of himself from me?” Lydia wondered, though Milan had never been one to hold back, so she guessed the opportunity had simply not arisen.
“I doubt it. Milan is interested in everything to do with sex, I think. He likes to dabble and he’s extremely open to new experiences, as I guess you worked out.”
“Yeah. What was this place like then?”
“I would call it…interesting. I’m not really that way inclined, but parts of it got me quite, y’know… Other parts of it just made me want to run and hide. There were people dressed head to toe in suffocating latex and leather and stuff—gimp masks. I always find them frightening, don’t know why. Maybe because they remind me a bit of gas masks, which are scary objects in themselves.”
“Ugh,” Lydia shuddered. “Hate them. And air-raid siren noises.”
“And there were people in cages—one woman was cuffed into this cage thing that had a little space for her head, so guys could just go up to her and put their dicks in her mouth. She had this contraption between her lips that held them open.”
“Milan didn’t…?”
“No. He did join in with a whipping, though. A cute girl in a corset and stockings, getting her bum flogged by all and sundry. Actually, I might have given her a couple of strokes.”
“Did you? Did it…do anything for you?”
“It made me feel a bit squirmy, I think. In an ‘I wonder what she’s feeling?’ kind of way. More curious than anything. Milan said it wasn’t the pain she was getting off on as much as the humiliation. I can’t really relate to that, but I might have asked him to give me a little spank or two, just to see what it felt like…”
Lydia giggled. “And what did it feel like?”
“Quite nice, actually. He didn’t do it very hard, of course. I’m a coward when it comes to pain. I got my own back and did it to him. He seemed to enjoy it.”
“Really? Milan?”
“He’s a sensation junkie. If it feels good, he’ll do it.”
“That’s true.”
They sat in silent contemplation for a moment, Lydia replaying all the wild and wonderful things she’d done with Milan before she dismissed the thoughts with firm determination and picked up the thread.
“And what about Ben? Do you think he wants a good spanking?”
Vanessa grinned into her ice cream.
“We haven’t got as far as S&M yet, strangely enough. If we do, I’ll let you know, okay?”
* * * *
Ben was waiting for them at the railway station the next day, holding a large hamper in front of him with both hands.
They walked up through a pastoral idyll to the strangely named Leg of Mutton Pond, where they arranged themselves on tartan blankets and unpacked the goodies. Vanessa was ridiculously excited about having her friend and her lover together in a social situation, and she was full of rapturous exclamations about the beauty of the weather and the surroundings.
“Where do you live, Ben?” asked Lydia as he unwrapped chicken drumsticks from some tinfoil.
“Me? Oh, Wimbledon.”
“Quite handy for Vanessa’s place then.”
He looked up keenly, then his gaze switched rapidly from Lydia to Vanessa and back again.
“I don’t know…is it?”
Vanessa’s heart melted at his obvious conflict—he wanted to admit their relationship, but he didn’t know if she would approve. She saved him the angst.
“Ben, I hope you don’t mind, but I told Lydia. Or, rather, she guessed. What with the somewhat alarming number of text messages I was sending and receiving last