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Felix

After one of the worst blind dates of my life, I knew one thing for sure: I was done with dating.

My goal in meeting the stranger had been to rekindle my Dom side. It hadn’t gone well, to put it mildly. Trying to clear my mind, I stepped onto the sidewalk outside of the swanky Italian restaurant where we’d just had dinner. The Chicago air was brisk, a little chillier than I was used to experiencing having recently moved from the sweltering Arizona desert. Naturally, the climate shift was something I would have to adjust to over time.

I was new to the area and trying out the social scene for the first time since my move to the Midwest a couple of weeks ago. The relocation had come at a great time, as I was still recovering from a recent and messy divorce.

I wrapped my jacket around my chest a little more snugly, debating on whether to take the L train back to my new apartment which I had acquired thanks to an inheritance from my favorite Uncle Al. The inheritance had come as something of a surprise to me. I hadn’t even known I’d been in the running to receive it until two months ago, and the process and planning of moving halfway across the country had been in full swing ever since.

I tossed a grim glance over my shoulder. I didn’t see my disaster date anywhere, thank goodness, and good riddance. I shuddered at the cringy memory of our forced conversation over spaghetti and red wine. I had spent every excruciating moment watching the minutes tick by and trying to drum up an excuse to wrap the date up quickly.

“So much for a Tinder date,” I said to myself and let out an exasperated sigh. “No more internet dating apps for me.”

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and picked up my pace. If my body was in motion, I wouldn’t be as cold.

My fingers skirted over something in my pocket. I had completely forgotten about the business card my date from hell had given me. I stopped walking, scoffed and plucked the card from my pocket in order to inspect it for a spark of anything interesting.

Ironically, the only good thing that had stemmed from the date was this business card. Apparently, the guy had an investment opportunity in a night club in the heart of the city that he had deemed extremely popular.

I smiled as I read the inscription in wide set neon letters.

Tiger’s Eye. Join us for a night you’ll never forget at the trendiest—AND ONLY—BDSM club in downtown Chicago!

I yawned, debating whether I should call it a night or extend my efforts to prevent another night of solitude. I wasn’t sure if it would be worth my while to check out this club for a firsthand experience.

My date and I had not been compatible on any level whatsoever. When I tried to order for him, he protested a little bit but eventually caved. I also noticed he had some wandering eyes and I wasn’t convinced he was invested in me or our conversation in general.

I had ended the date abruptly, saying I wasn’t feeling well so I could get the hell out of there without a stream of invasive questions or an invitation back to his place.

I was still trying to establish myself in a new environment, and it was a slow process, slower than I had anticipated, but I was patient with myself and the crawl.

I craved the concept of putting myself out there and adapting to the social scene, trying to find activities to engage in that would enlighten instead of bore me. I wanted to reignite my Dom side.

As I walked, my thoughts drifted to my divorce. My ex-husband and I were like gasoline and a match, the inevitable outcome was a heated explosion.

Evan and I had a good run, and we’d given it our best shot. In the end, we just weren’t meant to be. Our compatibility bar was so low that I couldn’t even see it in the end.

Evan was too uptight and controlling. I’d had to hide my needs for years with him, so now that I was single and on the hunt for companionship, I was ready to dive into my Dom side and release it, exploring it in ways that gave me freedom and options.

I had trekked a long and grueling road with Evan, always suppressing my preferences, and now I felt like that part of me was sizzling to get out, like a constant current of electrical energy charging through my veins.

Although, I wasn’t always submissive with Evan. I smiled smugly, reminiscing about the times where I’d tried to have the last word and won. Those were the highlights of the marriage for me, even if they had been few and far between. I’d cut my losses—and my pride—and moved on as best I could.

I figured that moving to a different city and establishing an almost entirely new identity for myself was the best fit to mold my future. I was ready to let my true personality shine.

My new inheritance gave me the once in a lifetime opportunity to quit my job and take some time to figure out my place in the world and what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

“You don’t have to map out the rest of your entire life tonight, Felix,” I reminded myself with an ironic chuckle.

That was just part of who I was. I always had to micromanage everything, including my own thoughts. I blamed that quirky trait on my mother.

I came from a broken family and at best, had a rocky background. My mom moved us from town to town. I never had any real stability or routine I could cling to as a youth. My mother feared structure as if it was a demon chasing her, so I never got a chance to have a normal childhood and be a normal kid.

I’d had to grow up fast and I had been relatively self-sufficient for as long as I could remember. I tried to take care of my partners in relationships, but some appreciated it more than others, leaving me newly divorced at the ripe old age of thirty-three. I didn’t mind it. I was still young enough to immerse myself in the dating scene.

My mind drifted back to the nightclub and the possibilities of hot men I would undoubtedly find there. I imagined grinding hip to hip with a sexy guy with a five o’clock shadow, not a full beard but just enough to create a little tickle and a scratch. The visions brewing in my head pounded an erection between my legs that throbbed in my pants.

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