‘Kinky what?’
‘I know, weird name. Apparently there’s a coffee shop attached. Anyway, he said, he and Rachael were big fans of this club and had had several amazing nights there. Was I interested in joining? It’s by recommendation only, but if I were up for it he’d put my name forward. I said, “Why the hell not? Can Sophie join too?” Of course, he said. So he’s gone there today to register us.’
‘I see. And the challenge?’
‘We’ve done bondage. We’ve done spanking. We’ve done domination and submission. But we’ve never done it in public. Have we?’
‘That time you handcuffed me to the balcony …’
‘That doesn’t count. It was dark. Nobody could see you.’
‘So, you want us to go to this club so you can do stuff to me while people watch?’
‘Essentially. Does that appeal?’
Of course it appeals. I have a well-developed submissive side, so this has been a long-term fantasy. Whether it will be quite so exquisite in reality remains to be seen.
‘It could do. I need more details.’
‘We have to go to the club to meet the owners – kind of an interview. Dr L. will let us know when we can do that. Then, I guess, we pick a club night and just turn up. Anything goes, apparently. I’ll make a list.’
‘I know your lists.’
‘I think you’ll find this pretty easy, compared to that last gig at least, so I’m going to have to get my diabolical thinking cap on.’
‘The one with the skull and crossbones.’
‘Yeah. That one. In the meantime, perhaps we should rehearse. A dry run. Though dry might not be the right word.’
‘Ho ho.’
‘I don’t like your tone. Fetch the hairbrush. And be quick about it.’
The resounding smack on the bum with which he sends me on my way stings pleasantly all the way to the bedroom. But that’s not the only cause of the tingly throb in my pussy. The ghost of future kink hangs over the immediate scene, heating it up with the promise of depravity.
***
‘I know they’ll accept you with open arms. It’s me I’m worried about.’ Lloyd smoothes down his hair for the thousandth time and practises a cold-eyed stare into my mirror compact. ‘I don’t even own a pair of leather trousers,’ he complains. ‘They’ll see straight through me.’
‘Don’t be stupid. There’s no correlation between the amount of leather worn and the effectiveness of the dom.’ I lower my voice a little. This tube train is packed.
‘Don’t call me that. It makes me feel weird.’
‘What, a dom? That’s the part you have to play.’
‘I know. But it sounds inhuman. I don’t like it. I’m just a person who likes to mess about with whips from time to time.’
‘So you’re a dom. Don’t make such a fuss about it. At least you don’t have to be a sub! That’s even worse. Makes me sound like a baguette.’
An unforced laugh chases away Lloyd’s nervous witterings. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty horrible. Can’t they think of some better names? Sexier? Can’t I be a … tetherer. A cuffer. A whipper. No, there isn’t anything, is there? I’ll stick with dom.’
‘As for me, what can I be? Pain slut? Fuck toy? No, it’s all horrible. Submissive it is.’ I sigh. ‘What about master and servant?’ I start humming the Depeche Mode tune. ‘I quite like that.’
‘So do I. Except you’ll never in a million years be my servant. Or my slave. Alas and alack.’
‘You can whip me all you like but I’m not ironing your bloody shirts. We’ve had this conversation before.’
‘No we haven’t. I’ve never asked you to iron a shirt. Why would I run a hotel with a massive laundry and then iron my own shirts?’