Page 13 of Until I Own You

I want to crawl out of my skin.

I know they have to refer to us that way in the Underground, but I’ve spent enough time with Hazel up in the Lyons Pride, the night club that’s open to the public, to call her a friend. Feels weird to be treated as though there’s some power dynamic between us. “Hi.”

“Do you have some people available who might want to play dress up for a bit? I’ll pay if I have to.”

“No, if any payment is involved, it’s on me.” I step up to be even with Deborah.

“Nonsense. This is my idea. It will go on my bill. Or, more specifically, Michel’s.”

I can’t argue with the bank account of Michel Angelise.

Hazel calls out two women who are just hanging around close by. One is Mistress Morgona, a Domme, and the other is a sub, Penny.

“I have a couple of pieces of art here that I think may be of interest to the both of you, and I’d love to see how they would fit a body. Would you be willing to try?”

Penny smiles, her head down as she nods. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And you, Morgona?”

“Sure, I can play along. Let’s see what you have there.”

Deborah hands a piece over to each of them to put on. “We’ll do a little fashion show out here when you’re done.” She gestures to the stage in the main room of the Underground where often times there are burlesque shows or public scenes.

When they return, they get up on the stage and show off the goods.

And I’m stunned. Truly.

I’ve actually never seen this side of my work on anyone but me. I do well on social media selling unique, reproduceable pieces. But I’ve never had room for the more “edgy” looks. Probably because my brand is billed as “sultry for sweet girls” even if I also get customers more interested in having little rosettes and bows on their pieces than leather and latex.

Penny wears one of my earlier designs, a matching green set with a garter belt and stockings. Morgona wears something closer in attitude to the black number Deborah pointed out in my book, except this one is a dark blue corseted piece with a pair of leather pants that snap up the sides so they can be torn off in an instant.

“How do you feel, ladies?” Deborah asks.

Morgona shifts in her hip, swinging her long box braids to the side. “Hot. And comfortable.”

“It’s so comfortable, oh my god,” Penny agrees with an almost erotic eye roll. “I mean, I like a little pain and discomfort here and there, but not when it comes to clothes.”

They both laugh.

“Comfortable and sexy, that’s good.” Deborah gets up on the stage and begins to circle the models. “You’ve sold your tailoring abilities short, Bridget.”

I blush. “Well…”

“These leather pants, especially, I mean that is not easy to accomplish.” She lifts a hand and makes eye contact with Morgona. “May I touch?”

Morgona grins. “Only if you want me to punish you later.”

Deborah clutches her chest. “That shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.”

We all laugh.

Risking a lost hand, or eager for the punishment since she is apparently a switch, both Domme and sub depending on her mood, Deborah runs her hand down the length of the leather pants. “Sleek. Intense. Yet delicate.” She lifts her eyes to me. “Powerful, yet beautiful.”

My heart flutters. “You think it works?”

“Absolutely. And these stockings–” Deborah moves on to Penny.

I grin. “I can’t take credit for the embroidery. I had them done by an expert fiber artist. The filagree is placed so that–” I get up on the stage next to her and point to the way it swirls around the Penny’s thigh, “—it accentuates the curves of the body. To heighten the beauty that’s already there.”

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