about that guy he just didn’t like.
Selena slipped from her stool and together they moved to the dance floor, swaying slightly in time to the bass-and-drum combo.
Rae hated to admit it, but she’d felt relief as her husband had walked away towards the bar. Part of her recognized that they had reached the divide; NightWhere was her ticket into the places she had only dreamed of before…places that, honestly, she was afraid to admit that she’d dreamed of. It was not the place for Mark; he didn’t have the need burning inside his bones like she did. He couldn’t follow her here, not now. In the most private place, Rae walked alone.
She let the dark, pounding beat of the band sink into her bones as she slowly moved to the back of the club, back to where the slaps of leather on flesh resounded, even above the echo of the drums. Fingers reached out from the crowd to trail across her bare arms as she passed by. She welcomed their touch, but didn’t slow to answer their invitations. There was only one thing she wanted now.
The feeling of surrender.
The feeling of the dark, welling up through her skin.
“How can I help you?” a voice said from next to her. “My name is Kharon.”
Rae looked up and saw a man with large eyes watching her intently. His head was shaved, his face pale, his lips barely pink. The faint stubble of his beard looked like salt and pepper against his skin, and she found herself instantly imagining how it would feel rubbing against the soft skin of her breasts. He had that magnetism—that weird electricity that in just a moment of speech made you want to be closer to him. In the strobes of the dance floor, his features jumped and jagged, sharpened and smeared—he was both extreme and soft as the light shifted.
“I was looking for a woman,” she began, but stopped as he began to laugh.
“Aren’t we all?”
“She was here last time, right here in this room. I met her at the racks…she made me feel deeper than I ever have before. She whipped me…”
“This is not narrowing it down much,” Kharon said, again with an audible trace of humor in his voice.
“I need to find her again.”
The man stared at her until the silence between them was filled with nearby cries. Rae could almost count the pores of his forehead as she stared back at him, daring him to hold his game longer than her.
“I want to show you something,” Kharon said and began to walk away. Rae wasn’t sure what to think…but she began to follow. He stepped through the aisle of whipping racks, where five pasty-white men had volunteered to be flogged and cried out like wounded kids with every light blow.
Rae stepped past them in disgust. She could tell with a glance that they were dabblers—they flirted with the pain but, really, they craved the humiliation. She had no use for them and hurried to catch up to Kharon, who slipped into the shadows of NightWhere as easily as paper slipped away on the breeze. Something inside her demanded that she not lose him.
Her eyes found him again, just ahead, and she quickened her step. He opened a black door hidden in the black wall at the back of the club and Rae ran across the intervening space to follow. She caught the door before it closed and darted inside to join him in wherever it was he was going. But on the other side of the door, she realized that she had left…everything…behind.
When the dark door shut behind her, Rae felt suddenly alone in a room of shadow. The air seemed to glint with some kind of floating light… But it was a hazy, cottony illumination. The strangest, most ethereal beams bled from random holes in the dark. Rae stepped forward and a dozen bells chimed, announcing her walking presence. She felt nothing touch her. Even her feet seemed to move across air. But with the movement of every muscle, the room sang, betraying her feet.
Not so far ahead, she could see the man, still walking.
Bells chimed and sang as she followed, the cacophony
Selena slipped from her stool and together they moved to the dance floor, swaying slightly in time to the bass-and-drum combo.
Rae hated to admit it, but she’d felt relief as her husband had walked away towards the bar. Part of her recognized that they had reached the divide; NightWhere was her ticket into the places she had only dreamed of before…places that, honestly, she was afraid to admit that she’d dreamed of. It was not the place for Mark; he didn’t have the need burning inside his bones like she did. He couldn’t follow her here, not now. In the most private place, Rae walked alone.
She let the dark, pounding beat of the band sink into her bones as she slowly moved to the back of the club, back to where the slaps of leather on flesh resounded, even above the echo of the drums. Fingers reached out from the crowd to trail across her bare arms as she passed by. She welcomed their touch, but didn’t slow to answer their invitations. There was only one thing she wanted now.
The feeling of surrender.
The feeling of the dark, welling up through her skin.
“How can I help you?” a voice said from next to her. “My name is Kharon.”
Rae looked up and saw a man with large eyes watching her intently. His head was shaved, his face pale, his lips barely pink. The faint stubble of his beard looked like salt and pepper against his skin, and she found herself instantly imagining how it would feel rubbing against the soft skin of her breasts. He had that magnetism—that weird electricity that in just a moment of speech made you want to be closer to him. In the strobes of the dance floor, his features jumped and jagged, sharpened and smeared—he was both extreme and soft as the light shifted.
“I was looking for a woman,” she began, but stopped as he began to laugh.
“Aren’t we all?”
“She was here last time, right here in this room. I met her at the racks…she made me feel deeper than I ever have before. She whipped me…”
“This is not narrowing it down much,” Kharon said, again with an audible trace of humor in his voice.
“I need to find her again.”
The man stared at her until the silence between them was filled with nearby cries. Rae could almost count the pores of his forehead as she stared back at him, daring him to hold his game longer than her.
“I want to show you something,” Kharon said and began to walk away. Rae wasn’t sure what to think…but she began to follow. He stepped through the aisle of whipping racks, where five pasty-white men had volunteered to be flogged and cried out like wounded kids with every light blow.
Rae stepped past them in disgust. She could tell with a glance that they were dabblers—they flirted with the pain but, really, they craved the humiliation. She had no use for them and hurried to catch up to Kharon, who slipped into the shadows of NightWhere as easily as paper slipped away on the breeze. Something inside her demanded that she not lose him.
Her eyes found him again, just ahead, and she quickened her step. He opened a black door hidden in the black wall at the back of the club and Rae ran across the intervening space to follow. She caught the door before it closed and darted inside to join him in wherever it was he was going. But on the other side of the door, she realized that she had left…everything…behind.
When the dark door shut behind her, Rae felt suddenly alone in a room of shadow. The air seemed to glint with some kind of floating light… But it was a hazy, cottony illumination. The strangest, most ethereal beams bled from random holes in the dark. Rae stepped forward and a dozen bells chimed, announcing her walking presence. She felt nothing touch her. Even her feet seemed to move across air. But with the movement of every muscle, the room sang, betraying her feet.
Not so far ahead, she could see the man, still walking.
Bells chimed and sang as she followed, the cacophony
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