As we walk down the long hallway, things get a little weirder. There are rows and rows of rooms with big glass floor to ceiling windows, and each one seems to have a different theme. One looks like a castle with all sorts of torture devices, and I bite my lip, trying to keep my commentary to myself. I can’t hardly believe people are doing community theater in there. I don’t want to admit it, but it kind of turns me on, thinking about kinky people acting out their fantasies for everyone to see.
The next room has a big four post bed with what looks like a cage underneath it. There are whips and handcuffs hanging neatly from pins on the walls. “People use these rooms? Like every night?” I ask. “What is that cage for?”
“Everybody has their kink, Mia. I’m not here to judge. I’m just here to profit.”
He squeezes my hand and I wipe my fingerprints from the glass window with the sleeve of my sweater.
“And what’s your kink?” I whisper in his ear.
“You.” He kisses my forehead. “And a couple other things that I’m sure you’ll find out about in the near future.”
Heat pools between my thighs. I have no idea what my kink is, but I wouldn’t mind letting him run wild on me through this place until we found out. Obviously, after hours. I don’t think I could ever have sex with other people watching.
“I know you like being tied up,” he says with a devious grin. I can’t look him in the eye. Last night I don’t know what possessed me when I wrapped his tie around my wrists, but I’m glad I did. Maybe deep in my subconscious I have a little submissive streak. All day every day I fight for my independence, but having a soft place to land where I can just let go just might be my kink.
I think about the handcuffs I found in the back of his car the other day, and how my mind immediately went to a perverted place. “Are those your handcuffs in the back of the car?”
His jaw tightens and he raises his eyebrows. “I never really intended on using them that way, but I don’t hate that idea.”
I don’t know if it’s being here in this place where so many people have collectively explored their dark desires, or the way his hand travels down my back and onto my ass, but I am ready to tear his clothes off right here.
We get to the end of the hallway, and through the glass window I see Magda, hanging upside down from the ceiling on some sort of leather contraption. Her hands are bound, and her legs are spread, and Fabian is walking around her tugging on the restraints. I instinctively cover my eyes, feeling like I’m looking at something I’m not supposed to be seeing.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Serafin says casually. “You can come in if you like.”
I look at him like he just grew a horn in the middle of his head.
“They just installed that swing today,” he says. “They’re just making sure it’s secure.” He starts to laugh, and I realize they’re both fully clothed, Magda’s gray sweatsuit about as chaste as anything I’ve seen in my life. “You think I’m going to just walk you in here and throw you in the fire?”
“Hi guys!” Magda shouts. Her face is bright red from hanging upside down. “It took us all day, but I don’t think we’ll have to worry about anybody ripping the ceiling tiles out again.” She swings her legs around to the best of her ability, bouncing up and down. “You wanna give it a whirl, Mia?” She giggles, and I feel like such a nerd because I thought what Serafin and I have been doing lately is spicy and kinky. It already feels like he’s taking me to another planet when we have sex, I don’t need to purposely defy gravity in one of those contraptions.
“I will respectfully decline on her behalf,” Serafin says.
“Awe bummer. You know, every woman who walks in this door has been trying to convince this man to come play with them, Mia. Maybe you can bring him out of his shell.”
“You included?” I want to ask, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Not my scene, Magda. I don’t need an audience to get off,” he says politely. I realize he doesn’t see this place as his own personal playground, but a business, and that makes me feel a little less jealous. If he wanted Magda, he could’ve had her a million times over.
“Yeah, nobody wants to see you beating your dick raw while you cry about how lonely you are,” Fabian says, patting him on the back. “Thank God you came along, Mia.”
“Let’s go talk in your office,” Serafin says as I try to hold back my laughter.
They walk off and Magda lets out a disgruntled huff as she flails around, trying to figure out how to get herself out of the mess of straps and cuffs.
“I’ll help you.” I walk over and examine the swing, looking for the best place to start. I might not completely trust the woman, but I don’t think dropping her on her head is necessary. Not yet, at least. I unhook her arms first, and like a trained gymnast, she swings herself upward, freeing her legs one at a time and landing on the floor on both feet.
“Shit, you’re kind of strong,” I muse. “I can’t believe that’s your first go at that.”
She laughs her loud cackle, “I’ve been doing yoga for ten years now. Everybody says it helps keep you calm. The only thing it does for me is teaches me how to bend myself into a pretzel.”
“I mean, I guess hanging out around here, twisting like a pretzel has its benefits.”
“Don’t I know it,” she says. She walks over to the mini fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, handing me one. “Hanging out here is where I get my calm, to be honest. There’s nothing like complete submission.”
“Is Fabian your dom?” I ask.
She laughs and shakes her head no enthusiastically. “Fabian is a good man. We’re just having fun. Nothing like you and Serafin’s story. That’s like something out of a fairy tale. Two young lovers separated by their family, finally brought back together. It’s so romantic.”
It’s pretty fucking warped if you ask me, but at least I don’t have to spend my nights in a place like this to try and find my calm. Twelve years of flailing and failing was more than enough. I don’t judge her for her hobbies, I know my addictions are hardly healthy. She seems happy, safe, and free from judgement here, and I guess at the end of the day, that’s all we can really ask for from our lives.
“Do you know anything about his family business?” she asks. “Forgive me if this is too personal, but how do you reconcile going from one side of the law to the other?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask. Fabian warned me she was the kind of person who asked a lot of questions, and maybe she’s just trying to make polite conversation, but it makes me really uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I swear. Sometimes I come off as abrasive. I’m sure you already realized that. I guess what I meant to say is you’ve probably seen a lot of stuff in your day.”
“I will tell you with all honesty, Magda, the stuff I saw with my ex husband was worse than anything you could possibly assume the Kings are doing.”
“I kind of suspected that,” she says. “I’m sorry, let’s talk about something fun.”
“No, I kind of appreciate it.” I take a long sip from my water bottle. “Most people don’t have the balls to just put stuff like that out there, even though I know it’s what everyone is thinking when they look at me. I know a lot of people have a lot of assumptions about me.”