I Married a Master(47)
Author: Melanie Marchande

When the car finally arrived, I stood nervously at my front door for a minute, fiddling with my lipstick before I finally shoved it back into my only formal purse (it was black, luckily) and stepped out onto the porch with a reassuring thunk, thunk.

Ben was standing on the curb already, waiting for me. Judging by the look on his face, he was hearing The Cars’ "Moving in Stereo" in the back of his head. It was nice to see him a little slack-jawed over me, but the frequency of it definitely made it seem less like a complement, and more like a constant state of being.

He, meanwhile, looked very much like his usual self – but with a bit of a sinister twist. As I got closer, I realized that his tie and his high-collared jacket were both made of dark, supple leather. He was holding a pair of matching gloves in his hand, and his pants seemed to fit a little differently than usual. Everything about him screamed alpha male. I couldn’t quite put my finger on all the subtle differences, but this wasn’t a businessman dressed for a day of work. This was a predator on the prowl.

I wanted him to devour me.

Stop it.

Shaking my head, I settled in for the ride. Ben seemed lost in thought, but I found him more captivating than usual to look at. This was another side of him entirely, one I’d never seen when he was just talking about this stuff. It was something words couldn’t quite capture.

From time to time, he lifted one hand to the side of his face and sort of prodding at his jaw, gently, wincing a little bit. I wanted to ask he was all right, but he seemed lost in another world.

The club wasn’t far, but it was tucked away in a corner that was safe from prying eyes, with plenty of room for cars to make pickups and dropoffs in relative privacy. There were two bouncer-types near the end of the cul-de-sac, watching for photographers and any suspicious characters who tried to get too close, I imagined.

Ben checked his phone as he approached the door. "Guess they’re already inside," he said. "Just stay close to me."

That sounded ominous.

The door leading in from the outside was nondescript metal, blending into the grungy city surroundings. But inside, there was a small, elegant foyer with two massive oaken doors that must lead to the rest of the club. Two more bouncers nodded to Ben, who nodded back, his hand resting at the base of my spine. I wondered if he had any idea how much that simple touch affected me.

Inside the double doors, everything was reds and blacks, low lights and pulsing music. But somehow, it wasn’t overpowering. There was something in the air – a hint, a promise of sin, but not quite enough to be unbalancing. I actually felt very calm, and moment later I realized it might have something to do with the music, which thumped at just about the pace of a low-key heartbeat.

"Over here." Ben led me towards the massive bar, and I realized Maddy and Daniel were standing there. I almost hadn’t recognized them in the dim light, with my attention so scattered by everything around me.

Daniel was dressed similarly to Ben, but it was my old friend who caught my attention. She was absolutely stunning, like some dark medieval princess, in a jet-black corset dress that accentuated her soft hourglass curves, and something I initially mistook for a choker before I remembered where I was.

Right. Collar. That was a thing that people wore.

It was just a simple strip of leather with a little silver padlock dangling from it, like a pendant. But I could tell from the way she held her head that she was proud of it.

"You look phenomenal," I told her, still slightly awed. It wasn’t just the getup itself, of course, but the utterly self-actualized way in which she wore it. I glanced at Daniel. There was still that hint of anxiety and defensiveness lurking around him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

He was so proud.

"Thanks." Maddy grinned. "You look pretty good, yourself. Where’d you get those boots?"

I shrugged. "They just showed up. Ask the mysterious benefactor over there."

Ben and Daniel had their heads together, talking quietly, and it didn’t seem like a fight was about to break out. So I decided to leave them alone.

"I’ll make sure to find out later," she said. "I don’t know what the hell I’d do with them. I doubt Daniel’s going to want to come back here."

"You might be surprised." I surveyed the rest of the room for the first time, noticing the variety of people mingling there. Most of the men were wearing very similar variations on formalwear with some leather accents, but there was much more variation in the way the women dressed. Some were much more revealing than others, but I did see quite a few corsets. None of them looked as good as Maddy.

"Can you breathe?" I asked her.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. It doesn’t have whale bones in it, or anything." She smirked. "It’s actually pretty comfortable. I got it from a very fancy costume place. I told them I needed Morticia Addams cosplay."

"Cara mia," said Daniel, appearing out of nowhere. His mouth twitched into a dark smile, and I watched Maddy’s whole body language change, subtly, and yet not so subtly, melting to him. "A word."

She followed him to a quiet corner, and I managed to tear my eyes away.

"So, that’s going pretty well," I said.

"Very well," Ben agreed. "So well we might not see them for the rest of the night. That wasn’t exactly my plan, but hey, whatever gets their marriage revitalized, or whatever."

I grinned. "I don’t know that it needs revitalizing, but let ’em have their fun. This place isn’t so bad. I don’t know if I’d want to hang out here all the time, though."

"I don’t," said Ben. "But it’s always been a good place to meet people. No one gets in without being thoroughly vetted. And it’s nice to hang out somewhere where everybody already knows your dirty little secrets."

"Huh. Like Alcoholics Anonymous," I said, without thinking.

Ben snorted. "You might want to avoid that analogy when you’re talking to other human beings."

"Sorry." My cheeks were instantly burning. "I didn’t mean…"

"I know you didn’t," he said. "Except you sort of did, didn’t you?"

I shrugged, uncomfortably. "I mean, sexual paraphilias are considered by some people…"

"Please," he said, his eyes growing suddenly hard. "Don’t start with ‘it’s a mental disorder’ thing. Studies show people who practice BDSM are more mentally healthy than the rest of the population at large. Not that any of that matters, because if something scares people or intimidates them, you don’t want to let any pesky facts get in the way of fear-mongering."