Crossing the Lines (32 page)

He must’ve met her on previous visits. The redhead didn’t sport a name tag, and the desk didn’t have a placard with a name. He slid his phone across the counter.

“Good evening, sir. You’re looking well. Any other electronic gadgets to check tonight?”

“Just the one tonight, thank you.”

Alice had been instructed to leave hers at home with Jay’s, owing to a rule against private photography at the club.

The girl locked the phone in a numbered box behind her. “May Emma take your wraps?”

“Yes, thank you.”

High heels clicked on the golden granite floor. An older woman in a tasteful black dress moved toward them. Not
old
old, but older than Henry. She took the coat Henry held out. Henry nodded to Jay, who smoothly removed his own coat.

He unfastened her buttons himself, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek as he pushed open her coat and Jay pulled it down her arms.

“All right, dearest?” His whisper rumbled in her ear.

So far. Except for the hammering in her rib cage like an imprisoned bird bent on escape. “Yes, sir.”

Henry pulled back and watched her for a moment. “Good.” He turned his head toward the desk. “Two red ribbons this evening, please, Tara. I’m not in the mood to share.”

Ribbons. He’d told them before they’d left the apartment. Reminders for Jay, but every rule and expectation was new to her.

The club’s ribbons announced a submissive’s status. Green signaled it was appropriate to approach and touch. Yellow meant the submissive could be spoken to, but touching would need to be negotiated. Red meant invisibility. Near nonexistence. Others could look, but addressing red-ribboned submissives or touching them in any way gave offense to the dominant who claimed them.

“The red ribbon by itself is not an indication of your novice status, Alice,” Henry had explained, his voice warm and reassuring. “It might indicate a submissive with triggers the dominant does not wish tripped, or a temporary punishment, or a possessive dominant willing to show off his toys but not share them. You will likely see several red ribbons and fewer green than you might expect. Many will be club employees or those paying for their attendance through consensual service. Unattached submissives, those who attend without an established dominant, often wear yellow as a safety measure and an invitation to discussion.”

She’d nodded to indicate her understanding, too focused on memorizing his words to speak.

“Once I’ve attached your ribbon, you will need to be on your best behavior, dearest.”

Her, sure. No problem. But Jay? Fiddly, bouncing-his-knees Jay?

One corner of Henry’s mouth lifted. “Yes, Jay as well. The two of you may freely converse quietly with each other, but neither speak to anyone else nor raise your eyes to meet theirs. Do not address me without express permission. When you do, address me as ‘sir’ at all times. If you need my attention, place a hand on my knee or shoulder and wait for me to acknowledge you.”

He’d paused, his serious expression encompassing them both. “Although your sexual contact will be limited to only what I instruct, you may touch each other for non-sexual comfort as you wish. If either of you feel anxious or notice anxiety in each other, do not hesitate, am I understood? And if you wish to leave, at any time, we will do so.”

She jumped at his light touch. He smoothed over the space between her exposed collarbone and the tops of her breasts. No coat now. Cool air kissed her skin.

Her own corset wasn’t so concealing as the one the hostess wore. Henry teased her exposed nipples, raising them to tight buds with the pads of his thumbs before tying the red ribbon in a bow at the top of the corset.

Jay wore a red band around his right bicep. Pure stud. Utterly fuckable, shirtless, showing off sleek, toned muscles. His formal slacks mimicked Henry’s, charcoal gray and well-tailored, but with a tighter cut and an easy-access snap front. One yank on the flap would spill Jay’s cock into a waiting hand. Or mouth. He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her.

They had the elevator to themselves, and the door had no sooner closed than Henry swooped in and kissed Jay greedily.

Her mouth moved with sympathetic desire as they kissed into the infinite distance of the mirrored walls until the elevator car came to a stop.

“Good boy,” Henry growled.

The doors slid open on the third floor. Henry wrapped her arm around his as though he escorted her to a formal function. He was dressed for it, and she lacked only the dress. Hell, the undergarments were formal enough to pass.

Jay fell in behind Henry’s right shoulder like he belonged there. Maybe he did. She’d have to track how everyone else behaved. She took in everything, careful to keep her gaze below head height. Accidentally offending someone and forcing Henry to apologize for her idiocy wouldn’t make for a fun night.

If she’d wanted a visual dictionary of the nude human form, she couldn’t have chosen a better place to stand. Men and women, both obviously aroused and not, passed through her field of vision in costuming ranging from elaborate to nonexistent.

An excitement, an energy, clung to the air and encouraged her own arousal. Bedroom-sized rooms lined the hall on both sides, with three true walls and one glass one. Wanderers watched at their leisure. Henry strolled, stopping at each.

She grew accustomed to the rhythm. Henry slid his arm behind her back, pulling her in and settling her in front of him. Jay sank to his knees beside them. Scenes played out in the themed rooms. Classroom scenarios, so far.

“All right, my boy?”

To her right, a woman in a short uniform skirt and too-small blouse earned high marks on her oral exam.

Jay nodded, the motion rubbing against her hip. His fingers rested on her calf. “Yes, sir.”

To her left, a man dressed as a schoolboy took a spanking across a teacher’s desk.

“He appears to be enjoying his spanking, doesn’t he?” Henry tousled Jay’s hair and lingered alongside her panties. “His mistress is careful with him.”

The woman, dressed in something like nineteenth-century schoolmarm chic, struck the man’s bare buttocks with a wooden paddle. His hands lay flat on the desk. Bent forward but not pressed to the surface, he rocked and his erection bobbed as every blow landed.

The paddle would make it too much for Jay. For now, at least.

But merging the scenes, combining design elements for optimum performance, slicked her with greedy desire. The evolving image pushed her craving deeper, pressed her back to Henry’s chest and intoxicated her with the rhythm of his breath.

“Alice has had a thought, Jay.” Henry plucked at the corset laces from her breasts to her navel. “She’s going to share it with us now.”

She squirmed, and Jay wrapped his arm around her leg in a reassuring squeeze.

“You needn’t be overly specific, my dear. But I want you to tell me, right now, which image aroused you.”

Footsteps and low chatter surrounded them. A couple stood no more than five feet away.

“Both,” she whispered. “Jay bent over while you wielded the paddle and I sucked him off.”

Hand tightening on her leg, Jay nodded.

“Mmm. Yes, that’s quite creative, isn’t it, my boy? Alice wants to reward you for playing a new game.” Henry’s breath stirred the hair beside her ear. “Beautiful. We’ll keep that in mind for a future night, shall we?”

“Yes, please, sir.” She hadn’t gotten the hang of calling him “sir” yet, but a thrill zipped through her every time she did.

They moved on. In a formal music room, a man wearing nothing more than a green ribbon around his cock feasted between the thighs of a woman sprawled across the top of a grand piano.

“A special treat for a good boy,” Henry murmured. “He serves with such enthusiasm.”

Jay swayed against her thigh with an inquiring whimper.

Henry clenched a hand in his hair. “But my boy would do a better job, isn’t that so, Alice?”

“So much better, sir.” Shoving aside her lingering discomfort with the audience watching beside them, she forced herself to speak up. “Like his tongue was made for nothing else.”

Jay’s straight back, his squared shoulders, made her slight embarrassment more than worth it. Her praise and Henry’s possessive hold eased his tension and fed his pride.

She hadn’t asked if he’d been to a club since Henry had pulled him out of his self-destructive spiral. Tonight might be a reintroduction for him, a setting as new and unfamiliar to him as it was to her. She should’ve raised the topic before they’d come here. Too sensitive a question for this public space.

Down the hall, more rooms, more scenarios, some arousing and others not, but nothing frightening. Nothing she wouldn’t have been willing to try herself.

The lazy sheik sprawled on a nest of pillows elicited boredom, but his dancers boasted excellent muscle control.

She leaned into Henry’s hand on her cheek, his knuckles grazing her as he twined strands of her hair around his fingers.

Gauze and silks and rippling bodies. Chiming bells on wrist and ankle cuffs. Henry liked to watch. Maybe he’d teach her to dance for him. Beckon to her the way the master called one of his girls to him with an outstretched hand.

Henry pulled away. “Em? There’s nothing amiss, I trust?”

The coat-check woman from downstairs? A shiver worked its way across Alice’s shoulders without Henry to warm her.

“No, no. All’s well, Henry.” The woman smiled, laugh lines deepening around her mouth. “No undesirables this evening. I’ve been keeping a close eye for you.” She came surprisingly close. Laying a hand on Henry’s shoulder, she lifted her heels and kissed his cheek.

Alice stood in mute astonishment.

“Merely my own curiosity.” She stepped back. “I didn’t want to disrupt your focus when you arrived, but I simply had to meet your beauties, if I may.”

“Giving me the chance to strut?” Henry slid a hand beneath Alice’s chin. “Look up, my dear. It’s all right.”

Nerves ate at her as she obeyed. How well did Henry know this woman?

The woman studied her for more than a minute. Two. Three. She couldn’t have been much older than Henry. Five years, ten at the most. But her distant inspection sapped confidence and raised fears of meeting Henry’s mother. Not measuring up.

Alice struggled not to fidget. She drew strength from Jay’s weight and warmth against her leg.
I am not intimidated. I’m right where I should be.

“You’re right, Henry.” The woman delivered a slow, regal nod. “Eager to please, with a spark of independence. You have your hands full, no doubt, but the reward will be worth the effort. She’s lovely.”

Henry kissed Alice’s temple and nudged her head downward.

The woman circled to Henry’s far side. “And young Jay. How wonderful to see him enjoying himself. I was so pleased you came in tonight. They’re beautifully behaved. You’ve every right to be proud.”

“They make it easy,” Henry said in a mild tone that edged into humor. “When they want to.”

The woman laughed. “I’m certain Victor said the same of me, many times.”

“And he loved every moment.” Henry resumed his caresses, outlining Alice’s cheekbone, and she nuzzled into his touch. “We may have a bit of fun later. Shall I send a runner to fetch you?”

“I’d be honored. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you direct, Henry.”

“I hope to have the opportunity more frequently in the future.”

“I hope you will as well.”

She wished she could see their faces as they exchanged farewells. But not so much that she’d trade away the delight of Henry tracing a path from her ear to her collarbone and back again with slow repetition.

They returned to the rhythm of watching and questioning and touching. The elaborate trappings, the periods and styles of the rooms, from the excesses of ancient Rome to a Wild West saloon to the silver-washed space age, seemed to heighten the experience for many participants. Sensationalism and formality.

She didn’t need a silly sham to put her in the proper mood. The familiarity and comfort of Henry’s touch did that. The deep shades of his bedroom, the softness of his sheets, the warmth of Jay beside her. She found truth in those things. Here lived falsity and desperate playacting.

The formalities seemed a protective ritual here, a necessity for allowing desires and vulnerability out in the open among strangers. At home with Henry and Jay, play had become a natural extension of their relationship, a deepening of their friendship. The reasoning behind Henry’s long wait to make her the offer shone with clarity under this new light.