Page 57 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

She made a small, pleased sound against my temple. The hand at the base of my neck stayed.

When the song got faster, she pulled back just enough to look at me. Her cheeks were flushed. Her pupils were wide.

She didn't let go of my hips.

"James is here," she said.

I blinked. "What?"

"James. From the last time. I just noticed him at the bar." She didn't turn her head to show me. She was watching my face. "He's been texting me all week. He didn't know I was bringing you."

"He's the one with—"

"The one I introduced you to. The Black guy. Tall, easy smile."

"I remember him."

"He's good," she said. The small private smile that had been getting more frequent lately. "I like playing with him. He's gentle and he's filthy and he does this thing where he—"

"Janice."

She laughed. "I'm just saying. He's good."

"You want to play with him tonight?" I asked.

"I want to play with him tonight, but only if it's okay with you. And only if you watch."

"In the public area?"

"In the public area." Her hand left my hip and came up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

The room slowed.

A hot tight ribbon pulled through my belly. My nipples hardened against the silk.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to watch?"

"Because I want you to see what it can look like," she said. "When you stop pretending."

She stepped back. The cool air rushed into the place where her body had been.

"I'm going to talk to him for a minute."

She turned and walked toward the bar, and I followed her.

The public play lounge was the same wide dim space I remembered from our second visit. Low padded platforms in a loose semicircle, gauzy curtains drawn back at the edges, mirrors along one wall doubling the room. Amber light made the air feel warm even where it wasn't. A couple moved together on the platform nearest the curtain, her hair fanned across his shoulder, his hand sliding slowly up the inside of her thigh. A trio on a chaise farther back. I only looked long enough to catalog three men. No one acknowledged our entrance.

At the far end of the lounge, set against the wall under a recessed light, was the cross.

Dark polished wood, a large rectangle with an X of thicker wood about six feet across, ankle and wrist cuffs at the four points. A ledge along the base for the bound person to stand on. On the wood backrest hung various tools and other things I couldn't readily identify with sex, though some looked like they might be for working with animals. I'd filed it under things other people did.

James was already walking Janice toward it.

He'd nodded at me when she brought me to the bar. He'd taken Janice's hand and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist with a slow tenderness. Thank you, he'd said to me, for letting her share this with you, and Janice had laughed and said I hadn't said yes yet, and James had smiled and said I would, and meant nothing aggressive by it.