The Original Sinners: The Red Years
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“Master Griffin Fiske, meet my editor, Zachary Easton,” she introduced them.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Zach reached forward to shake Griffin’s hand. But Griffin kissed the center of his palm instead. Zach yanked his hand back.
“He’s gorgeous, Nora. Hot accent, too. Fucked him yet?”
Nora shrugged. “Just a blow job.”
Zach had the sudden urge to throttle Nora.
“Blow job on a British guy?” Griffin asked with some concern. “You’re a braver bitch than I. No offense,” Griffin said, turning to Zach. “I have a foreskin phobia.”
“Zach’s Jewish.”
Griffin nodded his approval. “Mazel tov.”
“Griffin, are you going to get our drink order anytime soon or will I have to report you to a certain someone for dereliction of duty?”
“Drink order, mistress. Give it to me.”
“Zach, do you want anything?”
Did he want anything? He wanted to get back in the Aston Martin right now and head straight for home. He’d thought he’d lived a wild life before he and Grace married—dozens of lovers, sex in cars, in parks, once with the maid of honor in the bathroom during a wedding reception, twice with the daughter of the dean of his college…loads of drinking, carousing, wild nights followed by tired but happy next mornings. But nothing he’d ever done compared to what was going on right in front of his eyes. A girl no more than twenty-five was being dragged by her hair past their table by a man about his age. He pushed her onto the elevator floor and put his foot on the back of her neck. Nora and Griffin barely even glanced in their direction.
“Anything that will put me into a coma,” Zach decided.
“No comas tonight. The Circle’s got a two-drink maximum,” Nora said.
“Two-drink maximum?”
“Griffin, explain,” Nora ordered.
“You see, blue eyes,” Griffin said, still kneeling on the floor. “This place doesn’t actually exist. No one knows it’s here. Not the cops, not the IRS, nobody but members, and the guy who runs this joint has so much blackmail shit on every member that we don’t breathe a word about this place to outsiders. So to avoid any unnecessary scrutiny, we play it very safe down here. No drugs, very little alcohol and safe words, safe words, safe words.”
“So, two-drink maximum,” Nora finished. “Better make it a good two.”
“Gin and tonic,” Zach said, picking the first hard drink that came to mind.
“Just mineral water,” Nora said.
“Oh…” Griffin said, his dark brown eyes turning gold with mirth. “Sounds like somebody wants to play tonight.”
“Up. Go,” Nora ordered and Griffin jumped straight from the floor to his feet in kip-up—a move Zach had only seen in the occasional kung-fu movie.
“Such a punk,” Nora said, watching him walk away. “Thinks he’s a sex ninja.”
“Friend of yours?” Zach asked.
“Kink buddy. But he talks too much so I have to gag him every time we fuck. Cute, isn’t he?”
“Delightful. He’s…” Zach didn’t complete the question.
“Bisexual. Very.”
“Was it absolutely necessary to tell him that we—”
“I blew you. You liked it. Get over it,” she said as a naked woman wearing only a tail feather held in place in a way Zach didn’t want to think about sashayed past their table. Nora didn’t even bat an eyelash at her. “Ever heard of John Fiske?”
“Of course. Chairman of the stock exchange, isn’t he? He’s your friend’s—”
“Yup, that’s Junior,” she said, inclining her head in Griffin’s direction. “The Fiske family is new money, old money, money money. Griff is New York’s biggest trust fund baby. He drives Soren up the wall. Soren’s very dignified. Griffin…not so much.”
“So who owns this club?”
“Kingsley Edge—he’s Soren’s best friend. Best friend when Soren isn’t trying to kill him that is. King runs the place but Soren’s top Dom here so he calls the shots when he’s in attendance. He can order anyone to do anything and they have to do it. Here all the Dominants are ranked by experience and level of dominance. Griffin’s lucky number seven.”
“Who’s number two?”
Nora leaned back in her chair, snapped her fingers and pointed at herself.
“I am.”
Zach’s eyes widened in shock.
“You are?”
“Zach, this isn’t a game, you know. I don’t just write it. I live it. I’m a Domme, a female Dominant. There aren’t a lot of us around. Most Dominants are men. Technically I’m Switch since I can top and bottom, but if I show up on your doorstep, get ready to say ouch. I’m not good at it—I’m amazing at it. So good at it that I’m as famous down here for my skills with a whip as I am in the straight world for my skills with a pen.”
“My God,” Zach breathed.
“No need for that. You can just call me ‘ma’am.’” Nora winked at him. Zach looked at her and knew she spoke the truth. He knew she was kinky but he never dreamed before now she was some sort of legend. No wonder she’d scared him from the moment they met—she really was dangerous.
“Your G&T.” Griffin returned to the table with their drinks. “And your mineral water, mistress. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Nora said. “Kneel.”
Griffin knelt again on the floor at Nora’s feet.
“Zachary, Griffin is demonstrating for us the attendant slave posture. Kneeling, hands resting on knees, thighs—” she said and put a foot on Griffin’s inner thigh and pushed “—wide-open. Very good, slave.”
“Thank you, mistress.”
“Slave, please recite for my guest the first rule of S&M here at the 8th Circle.”
“Hurt, but do not harm, mistress.”
“And the second rule.”
“Respect the safe word always, mistress.”
“And the third rule?”
Griffin looked at Zach before answering.
“No vanilla sex allowed…mistress.”
Nora broke into a wide grin. “Good boy. You are dismissed for the moment. But stay close.”
Griffin rose to his feet and leaned over.
“I’ll stay so close you’ll think I’m inside you,” he said in a stage whisper meant for Zach to hear and nipped at Nora’s neck. Zach tried to ignore it.
“Hurt but do not harm?” Zach asked. “What’s the difference?”
“Hurt is a bruise on the outside.” Nora sipped her mineral water delicately. “Harm is a bruise on the inside. If you’re a masochist, pain feels like love to you. Not being hurt is what hurts.”