“What are you doing here Jessica?” Nate questioned, breaking the silence between them. “Tonight of all of the nights you could have chosen to walk through that door. What brings you here?” Jessica looked confused as she continued to sip her drink. She bought herself a few moments to think. “You don’t know do you?” he chuckled at her silence, aware of her obvious naivety. “I can tell by your face that this really is just pure coincidence.” An interested look spread through his face as Jessica felt him study her every movement.
She was frozen to her seat, unable to break his gaze. Nate straightened his broad shoulders and rested his hand purposefully on the empty table. “Something has brought you here, hasn’t it?” He smiled at her, a hint of jest in his words. He tapped the table as if the notepad was still underneath his long dark fingers.
“I – I don’t understand,” she muttered as another hot wave of embarrassment flushed her pale white skin. Nate leaned in closer, a devious glint in his eyes. “Lady Jessica,” he mocked, amused by her embarrassment. “You find yourself in the middle of what is affectionately termed ‘a convenio’; a meeting of minds. Call it a community get-together, if you will. One of my brother’s little parties for his select group of friends.” “Oh god, I’m sorry,” she sputtered and rose from her chair, grabbing her bag. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your party.”
“You didn’t intrude,” he replied gently. “This is still an open bar and you are welcome to drink here. I was merely curious as to why you came.” Nate traced his finger over the imaginary notepad and bent his head to whisper in her ear. He spoke very slowly to ensure that she understood every word. “Although, you should know that this is a fetish bar, my dear. Although I do so hate the term ‘fetish’. I have this belief that the word is only used by those not intelligent enough to experience all of life’s possibilities. After all, a fetish is merely an attraction to the non-conventional, and since all convention is relative…anyway, look around you.” Seated just a few tables away, a tall bearded man and his black-haired companion were in deep conversation. The woman who sat there caught Jessica’s eye, offering her a sly and seductive wink as she absentmindedly tapped a long thin riding crop against the leg of the table. Everywhere that Jessica looked, couples had begun to congregate and she felt a new tension in the room, a spark of electricity ignited the air. It was coupled with the thick aroma of lust. She sat momentarily paralysed with the fear of her new environment. Jessica looked back at Nate, her eyes wide; the blush that had nearly faded from her delicate skin was still evident at her ample cleavage.
He smiled knowingly and sat back in his chair. “You don’t belong here, Lady Jessica,” he said with a rasping whisper. “I think that you might belong, eventually, but not today.” He tapped at the table again with a long dark index finger. “You dare not speak of your desires do you Jessica? You dare not admit to yourself that everything you know about feminism, every single thing you have ever been taught about equality, simply doesn’t add up, not to you. You are desperate to belong, and yet you have never had anyone to belong to.” He paused to shake his head and took a long sweeping look over her heaving chest. “It’s such a shame; somebody should have claimed you long before now, but their loss will most certainly be our gain.”
Jessica felt her heart in her mouth as she sat silent, not able to get up and leave, somehow glued to the chair with an invisible force that was now way beyond her control. She felt utterly helpless under the intensity of his stare which was somehow so distant that she feared that he may see into the depths of her soul, or hypnotise her with his veracity, if he hadn’t already. She looked down at her leg and drew in a ragged breath as she suddenly realised that his large dark hand was placed securely on the inside of her smooth, creamy thigh. She flicked her gaze up to his face and opened her mouth in silent objection. “I know what you crave Jessica, I’ve seen it so many times before in women far less easy to break.”
Jemima Valentino is an English 30-something; married to an excessively patient man with two beautiful daughters and an excitable cross-bred mutt called Eddie. She is also a writer of dark paranormal romance, BDSM erotica and modern fiction.