Chapter Text
“This is without a doubt the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen,” Vi mumbled to herself, nearly inaudible beneath the loud music pounding in her ears. Not for the first time this evening, she wondered how exactly she’d managed to get herself into this situation, but she always arrived at the same answer. Money.
Even the tiniest studio in Piltover was twice the cost of her apartment back in Zaun and the Academy wasn’t exactly cheap. She’d known, once she moved to the upper city to start classes next semester, that she would have to find a new source of income quickly. The tiny nest egg she’d saved up for the last few years in preparation for university wasn’t going to last long. And with her only job experience being limited to bartending and manual labor, she didn’t have the luxury to be picky in her choice of employment.
Still, perhaps she should have paid more attention during her interview. Asked a few more questions.
Not that anything could have prepared her for this.
She stared wide eyed at a woman wearing fishnets and leather that did little to spare her dignity as she was guided through the crowded room by the silver chain around her neck. Despite the cuffs binding her wrists behind her back and the occasional sharp tugs on her leash, her lips were curled into an almost dreamy smile without a hint of shame or embarrassment. The woman pulling her along did so while wearing a confident grin and the sluttiest nun outfit Vi had ever seen, navigating through the throng effortlessly in her six inch stilettos.
She’d clearly dressed for the venue, though Vi knew for certain she was anything but celibate.
Vi stood behind the bar on the lower level of what, at one time, must have been an old church. But while the high ceilings, stone walls and marble pillars remained, anything that could be considered ‘holy’ had long since been purged. Gone were the pews, replaced by furniture of a completely different variety and purpose. The stained glass that lined the walls no longer depicted angels or deities, but devils and women in the throes of ecstasy. The echoes of old hymns and sermons had been swallowed by the crack of leather against skin, sharp cries and soothing words. Once a haven for prayer and redemption, Shrine had become a den of sin. A place to worship pleasure and pain in equal measure.
Never in her life would Vi have imagined tending bar in an upper class BDSM club.
“Can I get a whiskey sour?”
Vi snapped back to attention and turned to the new customer waiting expectantly at the bar. A beautiful woman with dark hair, cut into a stylish bob, and honey brown eyes waited patiently for her order, her chin sitting in her palm and her breasts resting on the polished wood of the bar. Her very bare breasts. Like most others in the club, she was wearing very little. A black leather collar encircled her slender throat and a matching corset hugged her waist. She smiled warmly at Vi as if this was the most normal interaction ever while Vi tried not to choke on air.
Doing her best to school her features into something that resembled neutrality, Vi gave her a stiff nod and quickly set about fetching bottles and glasses. She poured the simple drink while cursing her unsteady hands, then slid the glass towards the woman and stared pointedly at her face rather than allow her eyes to wander. “Drink token?”
The woman withdrew a thick, silver coin from somewhere within her tight corset and placed it delicately in Vi’s waiting palm with a wink.
“First time?” she asked loudly over the music before taking the smallest sip.
“That obvious?” Vi chuckled nervously.
The woman laughed. “Like a virgin at an orgy.” When Vi felt her cheeks begin to heat, the woman gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re all new at one point or another, babe. Just be respectful and try to enjoy the experience. You’ll be fine.”
“I just feel a bit out of my element,” Vi admitted, her focus drifting to settle on a woman bound to a strange looking cross. She was completely naked save for her heels and a blindfold and her pale skin was marred by streaks of red, bestowed by another woman wielding an instrument that Vi had only vague knowledge of. With each swing of her arm, strips of leather painted her partner’s body with new splashes of pink. It would seem like some kind of fucked up torture, were it not for the bound woman’s lustful cries of ‘thank you’ after every strike.
“You sure about that?”
Vi jerked her head back towards her customer to find the woman watching her with a knowing look. It was only then that Vi noticed she was biting her lip hard enough to bruise, her face and neck burning brightly. Fuck, what’s wrong with me? “I- I’m not- I don’t-”
With a bark of laughter, the woman waved off Vi’s stuttered denials. “Honey, you’re practically drooling on the counter.” Her grin only widened at Vi’s glare and she gave a light shrug. “Look, this place is designed for self exploration. I promise no one here will judge you. If it's not your thing, it's not your thing, but it’s clear that you are at least somewhat interested.” She gave Vi an obnoxious wink and tossed back the rest of her drink. “Anyway, I have to get ready for my performance. She really hates tardiness and I’d like to be able to sit down at some point this week.” She slid a crisp note across the bar along with her empty glass, then stood and stretched her arms over her head. Vi could do nothing to stop her eyes from staring at the soft, pillowy breasts put on display by the action.
“You should watch the show. We’ll be up on the main stage in just a little bit,” her customer continued, amused but seemingly not offended by Vi’s blatant ogling. “Oh, and I’m Emara, by the way.”
Clearing her throat, Vi gently shook her offered hand. “Vi.”
“Hope to see you around more, Vi. Perhaps on this side of the bar, sometime?” Emara gave her a teasing grin and a parting wave before slipping away without waiting for Vi to fumble out an answer.
Puffing out a breath, Vi reached for the used glass only to pause and gape at the bill Emara had left behind. A hundred dollars? As a tip? What the fuck?! She quickly looked around for her last patron, assuming it must be some sort of mistake, but Emara had long disappeared into the crowd. No one had ever tipped her that high in Zaun, but the upper city had always been full of rich snobs flush with cash. “Fuckin’ pilties, man,” she muttered to herself, pocketing the money and moving down the bar to serve another customer.
For a bartending gig, she certainly wasn’t having to make many drinks. The club limited each guest to two for the night, every alcoholic beverage requiring a silver token they were given upon entry. Mel, the woman who’d interviewed her a few days ago, explained that no one was allowed to drink enough to alter their state of mind. It was one of the two major rules at Shrine. Everyone must be “safe, sane and sober”, as Mel said it, and all play must be consensual.
After seeing first hand what the guests got up to here, Vi had to agree that requiring sobriety was probably for the best, but it really limited her customer base. She was selling more bottled water than anything. Fortunately, she was paid a high, flat fee each night so she wasn’t reliant on tips to make up the bulk of her income. Still, it gave her a lot of time on her hands and she found herself doing a lot more watching than mixing.
She watched as one woman slowly and meticulously applied a string of clothespins to the swell of her partner’s breasts. With each addition, her partner moaned and flinched, her bound hands straining behind her back. After several dozen were applied, there was a long pause to allow the tortured woman to catch her breath before the first woman tugged viciously on the string that bound each clothespin and tore them all from her flesh in the same moment. The squeal of pain that followed was enough to send a shiver up Vi’s spine and she found herself unconsciously pressing her thighs together.
Another woman wearing a blue baby doll dress with long blonde hair chatted animatedly with a few of her friends, all while sitting across a large man’s leather clad back. She sat casually with one leg crossed over the other, using him as her personal stool without anyone even acknowledging him. She was small, petite, but Vi could still see the man’s arms and legs trembling and she had to wonder how long this conversation had been going on. The leather mask he wore made it impossible to see his expression and prevented him from voicing his complaints. If he had any.
The woman being flogged on the cross previously had since been released and now sat in her tormentor’s lap on a nearby couch, sobbing into her shoulder while her partner gently caressed her hair and whispered soothing words into her ear. It looked endearing… sweet, somehow and Vi struggled to reconcile her being the same woman who’d whipped the crying girl’s skin raw only minutes ago.
Every now and then, Vi noticed couples moving up or down the stairs to the second level. She knew it to be a hall filled with various types of beds. Many of them were open to the public, only sheer red curtains shielding them from the rest of the room. A popular attraction for exhibitionists and voyeurs, Mel had explained, though Vi couldn’t imagine ever wanting to fuck in front of an audience.
Others were more private, locked away in separate rooms that required an additional fee to rent out for the night. They were essentially mini dungeons, equipped with their own tools, toys, ropes and bindings. During her initial tour during the day, Vi had noticed one of those rooms had a two way mirror, allowing others to peer within.
“You look like you’re settling in well.”
Vi whipped her head towards the familiar voice to find Mel sitting at the bar, looking far different than she had during their interview. Before Mel had been the picture of professionalism in a charcoal grey suit with light makeup and minimal jewelry. Even then, her beauty had been a bit of a distraction.
Now, she was gorgeous. Radiant.
The glittery golden dress she wore hugged her body perfectly with windows that left her waist and hips tantalizingly bare. Thick bangles jingled at her wrists and a chain necklace hung low around her neck, dipping into her cleavage enough to draw the eye. Her dark, curly hair was pulled up into a loose bun, showing off the multitude of rings dangling from her ears. Her eyes were artfully painted to match her dress, highlighting the deep brown of her irises. Her full lips, colored a rich gold that looked lovely against her dark skin, curved upwards in amusement.
“You’re gaping a bit like a kid in a candy store,” she said teasingly.
With a huff, Vi busied herself with wiping down the bar and willed her cheeks not to flush. Again. Gods knows she’s done enough of that tonight already. “I’m just- observing. I don’t really know much about this stuff. I’m not sure I fully get it,” Vi said honestly.
Mel rested her chin in her palm and lightly shrugged a shoulder. “Valid. It's only your first night and this type of lifestyle isn’t for everyone.” She eyed Vi for a moment before adding, “But you don’t look completely uninterested.”
“You’re actually not the first to tell me that tonight,” Vi admitted with a nervous laugh.
“Oh?” Mel asked, leaning forward with interest. “Who else?”
“A woman named Emara. She caught on to the fact I was new to all this pretty quickly.”
“Ah,” Mel hummed, seemingly unsurprised. “Well, it's not difficult to spot a newbie in a place like this and Emara is a veteran. She’s actually on staff. Does a lot of demonstrations and training classes for beginners.”
“Classes? Really?” Vi asked, surprised that something like this would be taught in any sort of structured setting.
“Of course! Safety is a pretty big deal in the scene. Using a pair of handcuffs to spice up your love life is one thing, but something like rope play is quite another. Learning to tie safe knots is essential to avoid causing serious harm. And don’t even get me started on fire or electro play. Having an experienced teacher can not only prevent serious accidents, but also alleviate a lot of the stress and anxiety for people who are just starting out.”
Fire play? What the fuck?
“She’d be good for you, I think,” Mel added suddenly.
“Huh?” Vi asked, confused. She was still working out how fire could possibly be used safely in a situation like this. She wondered if she should be worried someone might come barreling through the room like the Human Torch.
“Emara. She’d be a good mentor and partner for you, if you’d like to give some of this a try. Plus, she’s a switch so it would work out either way.”
“W-what? A switch?” Vi gaped at Mel, feeling like she’d completely lost the plot somewhere in this conversation.
Mel just shrugged, either ignoring or oblivious to Vi’s panic. “‘Switch’ means she likes to domme and sub. So she’d work out no matter which category you fell into.”
Mouth suddenly feeling very dry, Vi cleared her throat and shook her head sharply. “Uh, look, I’m sure Emara is great, but I don’t think this is for me.”
Mel watched Vi for a long moment, her dark eyes sharp and assessing. Feeling suddenly very naked and vulnerable, Vi returned to wiping down the bar just to avoid meeting the woman’s piercing gaze. Finally, Mel waved it off with a flick of her wrist. “If you say so. Like I said, it’s not for everyone. Just don’t write it all off because you’re afraid or ashamed. BDSM is natural and beautiful at its core. I’d hate for you to miss out on experiencing it due to fear.”
Vi just kept scrubbing at the already clean counter and said nothing. Somehow it felt like Mel may have hit a bit too close to the mark. Was she afraid?
A lot of what she’d seen tonight was strange and a bit terrifying, but also fascinating. She’d always thought BDSM was just about the fucking, the more extreme side of kinky sex. Now, she wasn’t so sure. While sex definitely played a part, it didn’t seem to be the goal.
She thought back to the woman on the cross, allowing herself to be bound and open. Giving herself completely to another, accepting the pain along with the affection. Little about the action seemed to be driven by the need for sexual release, but instead an exchange of control. A way to let go.
Vi searched for the couple now, finding them still cuddled together on a couch. The tears were long dried and she watched the woman place sweet, lazy kisses into her partner's neck. Somehow she looked far more relaxed than Vi would have thought possible after being flogged for nearly half an hour. Even with the red welts and bruises still visible against her pale skin, she seemed content, satisfied. Free.
Those were things Vi had not felt in a long time. Not since her parents died and she became the primary caregiver for her younger sister. So many years of her life had been swallowed by grief and poverty, the weight of it so heavy on her shoulders she could hardly breathe. Even now, with more than a few bucks in her bank account and Powder old enough to strike out on her own, she still found she couldn’t fully let it all go. As if the slightest misstep would see them lose everything they’d worked so hard to gain.
She looked again at the couple on the couch and felt her chest tighten with something akin to longing. Maybe even envy. And that scared the shit out of her.
“Oh, the show is starting,” Mel said excitedly, breaking Vi from her thoughts and bringing her back to reality.
The lights had dimmed, shifting towards the stage at the head of the room while the music volume lowered to a quiet beat. Several people wearing black shirts with “Shrine DM” written on the front and back began carrying things out to the stage, setting up like roadies at some sort of live band performance. Within minutes they had one of those strange, medieval looking contraptions that locked your head and hands between two planks of wood anchored into the floor. This one looked far more polished and modern than those she’d seen in history books, though. They also brought out a long table, stacked with various implements, which they set off to the side.
“Show?” Vi questioned, noticing that much of the crowd was gathering towards the front of the room as well. She remembered Emara mentioning something about a ‘show’ as well.
“Mhm, we put on live demonstrations a few times a week. Not so much a teaching session, but more so for entertainment. Its run by a domme we have on staff, so it serves as a bit of advertising for her private appointments as well,” Mel wrinkled her nose a bit before adding, “Even though she is very picky about who she accepts as clients.”
As soon as the crew were done and gone, Emara stepped onto the stage and a quiet hush fell over the room. She looked much the same as she had earlier, only now Vi took notice of the tight leather pants hugging tightly against her hips and thighs. Her arms were folded behind her back and Vi assumed they were bound in some way based on her posture. She stared straight ahead, ignoring the many eyes watching with eager anticipation, her lips curved into a small smile.
A moment later, the sharp sound of heels striking the hardwood floor echoed throughout the room. Each step was loud, ominous. Heralding the coming of something both powerful and terrifying. Vi swallowed unconsciously, her skin prickling with nervous energy. She found herself leaning forward against the bar, somehow drawn towards the mysterious woman who’d seized control of the room before even showing her face.
With a flourish of crimson curtains and long hair of midnight blue, a tall woman swept on to the stage and immediately stole Vi’s breath away. Even from across the room, Vi was utterly captivated by her beauty. Her face was all soft lines and sharp angles, a stunning contradiction that made her look both severe and authoritative. Deep blue eyes sat beneath perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowed with focused determination and Vi found herself trembling slightly beneath their intensity.
Rather than the black and leather that most of the audience wore, she was dressed in a light grey suit that seemed more appropriate for a business meeting than a BDSM club. It was form fitting, perfectly tailored to every curve of her body. In fact, the only leather she wore appeared to be the midnight blue gloves wrapped around her delicate hands and long fingers. The color matched her hair, Vi realized, as did her four inch stilettos that made her already impressive height seem staggering.
With steady strides of her long legs, she quickly approached the head of the stage and looked down on all those in attendance. Immediately, everyone fell silent, only the soft bass of quiet music audible through the room. Her eyes slowly scanned the crowd, taking in each face as if committing them to memory while impressing upon each person that she was in charge.
Then, her attention was on Vi and the world fell into utter insignificance. The only sound was the pounding of her heart, hammering against her ribs in an effort to escape her body and throw itself at this woman’s feet. She suddenly felt more bare than anyone else in attendance, her every feature weighed, her every flaw measured. Her every thought revealed. She could only shiver beneath the woman’s icy blue stare, bound and helpless until finally lips painted dark red lifted into a smile. So small, it was hardly noticeable. So quick, Vi wondered if she imagined it. Then, her gaze moved on and Vi could breathe again.
“Interesting,” Mel mumbled, but Vi hardly noticed. She was too busy fighting down the flush of heat in her cheeks while trying to stand on wobbly knees. Her eyes were locked on the stage.
“Good evening,” the woman finally said, her rich voice carrying easily through the room. Her confident tone and posh accent nearly had Vi melting into the floor. “We will be closing out the night with a bit of entertainment for you. You may call me Kira. I’m certain many of you know Emara,” she gestured towards the other woman on the stage before continuing. “She runs many different classes and demonstrations here at Shrine, but she so rarely gets to bottom these days and she’s been getting a little… pent up. Naturally, I have volunteered to sort her out.”
Light chuckles and amused whispers rippled through the crowd and Vi couldn’t help but notice the red tinge to Emara’s cheeks, despite her otherwise stoic demeanor. Then, with only a raised hand, Kira brought silence to the room again.
“I’d like to remind you all to be respectful and to not draw too near the stage for both your safety and ours. Feel free to continue engaging in your own play so long as it is in one of the designated areas. Oh, and last call for drinks is in fifteen minutes. Please remember to tip your bartender.” Kira’s eyes flashed towards Vi again with the smallest of smirks before she turned back towards Emara.
“Fuck…,” Vi whispered, swiping a trembling hand through her messy pink hair. She watched Kira with wide eyes as the woman slowly removed her jacket and folded it neatly on the table. Then she began to roll the sleeves of her white shirt up her slender arms to the elbows.
“Well, don’t you look smitten?”
With great effort, Vi peeled her eyes away from Kira to find Mel grinning at her like the cat who got the cream. “H-huh? No- I-,” Vi tried, but her brain was far too hazy to form words. She also knew denying it would be a lie and she had done nothing to mask the lustful thoughts that swirled through her mind when those piercing blue eyes were on her. Her body had probably telegraphed her every desperate thought to anyone paying attention.
Mel just waved off Vi’s fumbling with a laugh. “Oh, please. I’ve never seen heart eyes so big.” She leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes, but before she could speak, someone else approached the bar and placed a drink order.
And they were far from the only one. Now that it was last call, everyone seemed to be cashing in tokens for their final drinks. Vi was happy for the distraction from Mel, but for the next twenty or so minutes, she was only able to catch glimpses of Kira and Emara on stage.
To Vi’s surprise, nearly every time she managed to glance towards the stage, she found Kira already watching her.
Vi couldn’t help but imagine it was her nipples Kira was applying the silver clamps to, her gasps of pain and pleasure breaking from her lips with each twist of the knob. Her bent over and locked into the strange contraption, pants pulled down to her knees. Her sharp cries with every strike of the leather paddle against the bare flesh of her ass and thighs. Her moans and whines at every teasing touch against her exposed sex.
Kira watched Vi throughout it all and Vi wondered if she was imagining the same.
Vi practically shoved her last customer’s drink into their hands and immediately set her full attention back on the stage, seeking out those commanding blue eyes. She found them easily, watching her from across the room, sparkling with amusement at Vi’s haste to finish her work so that she could focus on the show without distraction. A dark eyebrow arched in her direction and Vi just smiled sheepishly in return.
A loud crack reverberated through the room, followed by a tired and muffled moan. Emara was still locked into the pillory (as Vi had learned through her customers), her head lifted to stare out at the audience who’d given her their full attention. Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy. Drool spilled around the red ball lodged in her mouth and dripped down her chin to the floor. Another strike of the paddle and she flinched and whined, her hands balling into tight fists. Another and her head dipped towards the floor, her knees trembling so hard that Vi could see it from the bar.
“Keep your head up, pet. It wouldn’t do to hide from your adoring fans,” Kira chided, her voice like velvet. She used the flat of the paddle to rub roughly against Emara’s weeping pussy, drawing out another whimper. With obvious effort, Emara lifted her head again, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Good girl,” Kira purred at her obedience, but her eyes were again on Vi, her lips curved into a smug smile.
Vi huffed, muttering “cocky bitch” under her breath, but she was chewing her own lip to hide her grin. When Kira didn’t look away, even as her paddle again met the soft, reddened skin of Emara’s ass, Vi’s thighs pressed together of their own will and she was shocked to feel just how wet she was.
After three more hits, Emara stomped her left foot twice against the stage and Kira immediately paused. She circled around to the front of the pillory and lifted Emara’s head with a finger beneath her chin, sweeping her dark hair from her face with an affectionate touch that somehow made Vi feel jealous.
With practiced efficiency, Kira quickly had the gag unbuckled and pulled from Emara’s mouth. Then, Kira kneeled next to the woman and they spoke far too quietly for Vi to hear. Moments later, Kira released Emara from the pillory, supporting her tired body against her own. She carefully led Emara from the stage, the crowd parting easily for them while simultaneously applauding the two women.
They both collapsed into a loveseat with Emara lying across Kira’s lap. Delicate, leather clad fingers carded gently through dark hair while Kira whispered soothingly. Emara snuggled closer into Kira’s lap, her eyes closed as she sucked in deep lungfuls of air. Her trembling hands clung to Kira’s white shirt while the rest of her body gradually melted into the couch.
The whole thing looked so tender, soft. Almost loving. Vi found herself clenching her jaw at the thought and when those familiar blue eyes briefly glanced in her direction, Vi immediately looked away and busied herself with her side work. The whole scene had left her feeling raw and confused. Untethered, somehow. A mess of unfamiliar emotions tangled uncomfortably in her stomach and she had no idea what to do with them. How to process. She was afraid to peel them apart, to look at them one by one. Terrified of what they may reveal.
Long minutes passed and Vi refused to look past the bar. She distracted herself with all the tedious tasks involved with closing down her station, filling the large dishwasher with dirty glasses, wiping down the bar and returning any used bottles to their appropriate places. At least she didn’t have a drawer to cash out. Any cash she’d received were tips specifically for her with no one to tip out. The silver coins she simply stuffed into a large glass jar and slid across to Mel who looked busy tapping away on her phone.
“You did well tonight,” Mel said without looking up from the screen, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration.
“Thanks,” Vi answered gruffly. Her throat felt tight, her mouth dry. She didn’t want to analyze why as she searched for the broom to begin sweeping the floors.
Mel’s sharp eyes looked up at her stiff response, clearly paying far more attention than Vi gave her credit for. “You good?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting as she easily picked up on Vi’s shifting mood.
Vi couldn’t stop herself from glancing towards the couch where Kira was still holding Emara tight against her, whispering against her ear while stroking her back affectionately. Just as quickly, Vi tore her eyes away again and swallowed around the bitter taste in her mouth. “Yep, all good,” Vi bit out, hating the gravely sound of her voice.
With a hum, Mel followed where Vi’s eyes had wandered. “Ah.” She turned back to Vi with a knowing grin that made Vi’s skin prickle with annoyance. Mel leaned across the bar and plopped her chin in her palm. “Jealous, are we?” she cooed.
Vi didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her own voice to deny her own ridiculous feelings. I mean, Kira certainly didn’t belong to her. She’d never even met the woman before, never spoken to her. How could she feel any form of attachment just because she’d received a few lingering looks from across a crowded room at a kink club? It meant nothing. It was just an act. A game. A scene, as they call it here. Nothing is real.
“It’s called ‘aftercare’,” Mel spoke suddenly, breaking through Vi’s dark thoughts. Her gloating grin had morphed into a softer, more sympathetic smile that made Vi feel even more guilty for her stupid feelings. “It’s a completely normal part of recovery and care after a hard scene. Or any scene, really. It can be damaging for someone’s mental state if they are not properly cared for after something like that. It doesn’t mean they are in a relationship.”
Not sure she fully understood what Mel meant, Vi looked back towards the two women again. Emara was sitting up now, nibbling slowly on a small chocolate bar while Kira gently rubbed at her back. At some point the clamps had been removed from her nipples, but they still looked swollen and angry. Overall, she looked far less shaken than she had a few minutes ago, her cheeks not quite so red, her hands no longer trembling. Now, she just looked exhausted.
“Those two are veterans and they’ve been working together for years. They’ve learned each other’s needs as well as their own,” Mel continued, watching the two women with clear affection.
“BDSM is more than a bit of rope play and a little light spanking. It can be dirty and exciting, bruising and challenging. It's beautiful and delicate, an intimate display of trust and care. We allow ourselves to be broken down because there is freedom in our destruction and we have faith in our partners to help piece us back together. It’s one of the most vulnerable forms of art and it must be treated with reverence and respect by all who participate.”
Mel turned to face Vi with a serious expression. “If you ever do engage in this lifestyle, do not ever play with someone who refuses you proper aftercare.”
Vi finally managed to swallow down the hard lump in her throat. She still wasn’t sure if she completely understood everything Mel was saying, but her boss was clearly very passionate about her business. About BDSM as a whole. Vi wondered briefly if she’d ever felt that strongly about anything. So much of her life was dedicated to survival that now that her life was finally coming together, she felt adrift in a sea of possibilities. Maybe there were things about herself that she’d yet to discover. Maybe BDSM was one of them. She certainly could no longer deny her interest.
Before she could open her mouth to respond, a tall figure appeared at the bar and every thought in Vi’s brain came to a screeching halt.
Kira.
The woman gave Vi a warm, if slightly awkward smile, and placed a dark blue card on the bar before sliding it meaningfully towards Vi without a word. Vi hesitated briefly before taking it. Somehow the small bit of paper felt heavy in her hand. She flipped it over with clumsy fingers to read the text.
Caitlyn Kiramman
Professional Dominatrix
(555) 555-6516
“Caitlyn?” Vi mumbled, confused, but when she looked up Kira- Caitlyn was gone and Mel was staring at the card in her hand with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
“Very interesting,” Mel said, a wide grin spreading across her face.