managed to get dressed. They took the stairs down rather than waiting for the old elevator. Outside there was a brisk, salt-scented wind, but Shaye looped an arm over her shoulders, keeping her warm at his side as they walked.
Was this supposed to feel so much like a relationship, walking out on a Sunday morning to get coffee?
They reached her favorite spot two blocks away, a tiny cafe called
Insomnia. There he ordered for them both and paid for the coffee,
and they took a seat at a small table next to the window. Outside the city was waking up, the stores opening. The first tourists of the morning strolled by in their shorts and their San Francisco sweatshirts while Devin and Shaye sipped their coffee in companionable silence. He was the first man she could remember ever feeling this comfortable with, that they could be together without talking, yet there was never any sign of tension, of needing to fill the silence. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” His hazel eyes locked on hers. They glowed with deep shades of amber and chocolate, and a tantalizing sheen of green. “There's a place I want to take you, a special place.” “Oh?”
“I know you're new to this, to the whole bondage and discipline thing. But I think you'd love this place. I know already you can handle it.”
“What is it, this place?”
He drank from his paper cup, swallowed, and she was momentarily distracted by the working of the muscles in his throat. “Think of it as being like the Ring, but for a more sophisticated crowd. Sexual sophisticates you could call them.”
“I'm hardly that sexually sophisticated.”
“Maybe not in the sense they are. But you have what it takes. I can see it in you, Devin.” Even his vague description sounded enticing, if a bit frightening. But if he wanted her to go anywhere with him, she would. She didn't want to think about why. “Tell me what it's like.” “It's a sort of secret society, so I can't tell you much until you agree to go. But it's in this old mansion. A beautiful, elegant place. The crowd ranges in age, but we'd be at the younger end of the spectrum. The people are beautiful. And it's pretty intense, I'll tell you that.”
“Intense how?” But without even knowing any more details, the idea was making her heart pound in anticipation. “Intense in that these people are very serious about what they do, about what we do. Sort of Old Guard. Formal. There are a lot of rules. You would have to remain silent unless spoken to. That kind of thing.”
“Would you . . . put one of those collars on me?” He paused, seemed to think for a very long time while he bit down on the plush flesh of his lower Up, making her want to kiss him again. “Maybe. Eventually.” Another pause, then, “The collar means something to these people. To me. It's not merely a symbol, part of a costume. But yes, if I take you there, I would have to collar you before we went back again. That's how it works. I would present you to the group the first time, for consideration. Theirs, yours, mine. After t h a t . . . yes, there would be a collar. But we would talk about it first. We would both have to understand exactly what it means.” He stopped, shrugged, looked a bit flustered. His eyes were shuttered, and she couldn't read what was going on in his head. She wasn't even sure what was going on in her own head, about this collaring thing, how talking about it made him appear nervous and unsure, something she'd assumed he never was. But she couldn't help but imagine him putting a collar around her neck. The idea made her warm and shivery inside.
“I want to go.” She knew it with a certainty that didn't surprise her, somehow, even though it should have.
“Take some time to think about it, Devin.”
“I don't have to.”
“Do it anyway.”
He smiled at her, but she could see he was serious and wouldn't accept her answer just yet.
“Okay. I'll think about it.”
“Talk to me now. Tell me about your
Was this supposed to feel so much like a relationship, walking out on a Sunday morning to get coffee?
They reached her favorite spot two blocks away, a tiny cafe called
Insomnia. There he ordered for them both and paid for the coffee,
and they took a seat at a small table next to the window. Outside the city was waking up, the stores opening. The first tourists of the morning strolled by in their shorts and their San Francisco sweatshirts while Devin and Shaye sipped their coffee in companionable silence. He was the first man she could remember ever feeling this comfortable with, that they could be together without talking, yet there was never any sign of tension, of needing to fill the silence. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” His hazel eyes locked on hers. They glowed with deep shades of amber and chocolate, and a tantalizing sheen of green. “There's a place I want to take you, a special place.” “Oh?”
“I know you're new to this, to the whole bondage and discipline thing. But I think you'd love this place. I know already you can handle it.”
“What is it, this place?”
He drank from his paper cup, swallowed, and she was momentarily distracted by the working of the muscles in his throat. “Think of it as being like the Ring, but for a more sophisticated crowd. Sexual sophisticates you could call them.”
“I'm hardly that sexually sophisticated.”
“Maybe not in the sense they are. But you have what it takes. I can see it in you, Devin.” Even his vague description sounded enticing, if a bit frightening. But if he wanted her to go anywhere with him, she would. She didn't want to think about why. “Tell me what it's like.” “It's a sort of secret society, so I can't tell you much until you agree to go. But it's in this old mansion. A beautiful, elegant place. The crowd ranges in age, but we'd be at the younger end of the spectrum. The people are beautiful. And it's pretty intense, I'll tell you that.”
“Intense how?” But without even knowing any more details, the idea was making her heart pound in anticipation. “Intense in that these people are very serious about what they do, about what we do. Sort of Old Guard. Formal. There are a lot of rules. You would have to remain silent unless spoken to. That kind of thing.”
“Would you . . . put one of those collars on me?” He paused, seemed to think for a very long time while he bit down on the plush flesh of his lower Up, making her want to kiss him again. “Maybe. Eventually.” Another pause, then, “The collar means something to these people. To me. It's not merely a symbol, part of a costume. But yes, if I take you there, I would have to collar you before we went back again. That's how it works. I would present you to the group the first time, for consideration. Theirs, yours, mine. After t h a t . . . yes, there would be a collar. But we would talk about it first. We would both have to understand exactly what it means.” He stopped, shrugged, looked a bit flustered. His eyes were shuttered, and she couldn't read what was going on in his head. She wasn't even sure what was going on in her own head, about this collaring thing, how talking about it made him appear nervous and unsure, something she'd assumed he never was. But she couldn't help but imagine him putting a collar around her neck. The idea made her warm and shivery inside.
“I want to go.” She knew it with a certainty that didn't surprise her, somehow, even though it should have.
“Take some time to think about it, Devin.”
“I don't have to.”
“Do it anyway.”
He smiled at her, but she could see he was serious and wouldn't accept her answer just yet.
“Okay. I'll think about it.”
“Talk to me now. Tell me about your
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