‘Not a chance. You’re coming with me. I want this guy to know exactly who I’m designing my masterpiece for.’
She made a strangled little sound of pained shame, then capitulated.
‘I suppose you’ll be unbearable forever if I don’t?’
‘I suppose I will.’
‘Come on then. Let’s find him.’
John Lindo’s workshop wasn’t far from Borough Market. It was in a street of thriving pubs and delicatessens, in a building that looked as if it had once been stables. Behind it, trains rumbled almost without cease, coming in and out of nearby London Bridge station.
Jason was the one to knock on the door for this appointment. It was opened by a mild-looking middle-aged man in heavy apron and gloves.
Jason introduced himself and the man smiled, recalling the appointment.
‘Ah yes. You called yesterday from Cinq à Sept. Do come in.’
Inside, the space was large and airy, all the light coming from front wall windows high up near the ceiling. A variety of workbenches and machinery stood on one side of the floor, while on the other was a fairly comfortable arrangement of old sofas and chairs with a makeshift kitchen occupying the corner.
Lindo led Jenna and Jason to this side of the room, heading over to the sink to fill the kettle.
Jenna couldn’t help but notice that the wall was rather interestingly decorated with all kinds of spanking implements hanging from nails. It made her scalp prickle and she tried to look away from the threatening leather and wood, but it was all around her, inescapable.
‘So you bought one of my pieces?’ Lindo said, turning to them again, having put the kettle on.
‘Yeah,’ said Jason. ‘A leather one, but I see you do wood as well.’
‘I do. Those are the materials I work with most, but I’ll turn my hand to most things. I’ve done some work in plastics too. How did you find it?’
‘How . . .? Well, it was in the shop.’
Lindo smiled, shaking his head.
‘No, I mean, have you given your new purchase a go?’
‘Oh, right, I see.’ Jason grinned, turning taunting eyes to Jenna. ‘Yes. It was just the job.’
Jenna cringed inwardly. Not that Jason had mentioned which way around the thing was done. For all Lindo knew, it could have been Jenna with the whip hand.
‘That’s good to hear,’ said Lindo. ‘Now, I have ordinary teabags, or I can offer some fruit and herbal teas.’
‘Ordinary for me,’ said Jason, while Jenna opted for blackcurrant and ginseng.
‘So,’ Lindo pursued, pouring the drinks. ‘Do you think it was better or worse than other examples you might have used before?’
‘Well, I’d say it was better,’ said Jason. ‘Because not only did it do the job, it was pretty as well.’
Lindo nodded and handed the mugs of tea to his guests before seating himself opposite them.
‘That’s my intention,’ he said. ‘I wanted to create something fearful and yet also beautiful. Something for the aesthetes among us. Of course, many of those who share our fetish are quite happy with a bog-standard belt or a wooden spoon, but I always thought the experience could be so much fuller, with the right implement.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jason, clearly excited by the discussion. ‘I get you. That’s why I came to you. When I saw your stuff in that shop, I felt like I understood what you were doing and really appreciated it.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so.’
Jenna, sitting a little bit back from this mutual appreciation society, felt a desperate nag of embarrassment within her. Hearing what she and Jason had done referred to as a fetish had shocked her, for some reason. Had she really travelled so far towards the margins of society? Perhaps it was the beginning of a steep slope, and if so, where would it end?
Like the discreet lady in the shop, she was confident Lindo would not go blabbing their sex secrets all over town. Nonetheless, she felt something like fear at the thought of allowing a third party to know what she and Jason did behind closed doors.