By the time the train pulled into the station, I was struggling with an inconvenient heat between my thighs, wishing that I had been a) alone in the carriage and b) wearing fewer than four layers. Under my coat, my jumper dress, my tights, my knickers, a furtive humidity radiated out, soaking my underwear, demanding attention I couldn’t give without criminalising myself.
The vibration of the engines beneath the prickly seat had almost tipped me over the edge, so it was a relief, in a contradictory kind of way, when they ceased and I was able to step out into cold, head-clearing air and concentrate on finding the pub.
It was in a quiet backstreet close to the dockyard. The row of sleek, shiny motormonsters lined up outside denoted a bikers’ pub – a nice choice, I thought. There might not be an actual correlation between bikes and BDSM, but the two seem to rub along together quite well.
I stopped halfway across the gravel car park and looked behind me. Should I stay or should I go? I could just nip off over to West Quay and go for a browse through the shops instead. Catch a movie at the neighbouring multiplex, overdose on popcorn and self-loathing, go home.
‘Nice boots! I think I saw some like that in last month’s Elle.’
From the doorway, a snub-nosed blonde laughed over at me, beckoning madly. I recognised her from her MasterMe profile – BadLilBunny in the flesh.
I didn’t move. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘They’re only from the market.’
‘Shepherds Bush?’
She had stepped down and was crunching across the gravel towards me, still beaming, a naughty little angel in Seven jeans, with an Australian accent.
‘Shepherds Bush?’ I repeated, not understanding.
‘You know. The fetish market. I love that Victorian lace-up style.’
‘Oh, no, no, just the market under the old Tricorn centre. Sorry, are you ..?’
She held out a hand.
‘Maz,’ she said. ‘Aka BadLilBunny. And – you’re going to think I’m insane if you’re not – but I’m guessing you’re AtYourService?’
‘Umm,’ I hedged. This was my last chance to back out. Say, ‘No, certainly not, I’m a churchwarden called Gladys,’ and make a run for it. But her smiley, welcoming aura won me over. ‘Yeah, that’s right. Keris.’ I took her proffered hand and shook, congratulating myself on my presence of mind. After all, how many Cherries of my age could there be in the area? I didn’t want any curious Googling fingers linking my bare spanked arse to St Sebastian’s. Keris could be the bare spanked arse. Cherry could be the rest of me.
She giggled and pulled me rather abruptly into a hug.
‘I’m so excited to have another girl in the group,’ she confided. ‘The guys are going to love you. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink – newbie privilege. What do you like?’
‘Uh …’ Did I necessarily want to lose my inhibitions today? Maybe not. ‘I’ll have an orange juice and lemonade, thanks.’
The pub was dark and creaky and, despite the smoking ban, there was a kind of tobacco-laden feel to the air inside. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out that the ghost of a pipe-smoking Harley rider sat by the fireplace on the night of the full moon.
Maz pushed me into the corner furthest from the dartboard with an explanatory chirrup of, ‘This is Keris, guys, do your gentlemanly thing,’ before flitting off to the bar.
A lanky guy in spectacles and a Killers T-shirt leapt up and offered me a place on the bench beside him.
‘Hi,’ he said effusively. ‘Are you AtYourService?’
I nodded, blinking around me. There were two other men there – a massively bearded man in dusty leather trousers and a older gent in a smart shirt and chinos combo. It seemed Maz and I were the female contingent.
‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘You must be – Soton_Spanker?’
‘Justin,’ he said with a nod. ‘This is Rev and this is Lawrence.’
‘Rev?’ I looked at the biker and snickered. ‘You don’t have a dog collar.’
‘As in revving a bike,’ he explained, raising an eyebrow. ‘No holy orders taken. Though I might be in possession of a collar or two. I don’t wear them myself though.’
I experienced a frisson, hyper-aware of the fact that I was a submissive girl surrounded by doms. Daniella in the lions’ den.
‘You’re new on the scene,’ remarked Lawrence.
‘I didn’t even know there was a scene.’