Page 1 of Take Her

1

RHAIM

The very first thing I noticed about her were her ankles—because the shiny catsuit she was in was an inch too short to cover them.

They were a stark white in the darkness of Vertigo’s debauched basement rooms where anything—and anyone—could be bought.

I’d been sitting at the well-stocked bar sipping wildly overpriced whiskey and idly watching the door for company, because despite paying my membership fees it’d been a long time since I’d bothered to come down here. The bouncer remembered me, as did some of the other patrons, and I gotten more than one welcoming nod plus a few hopeful stares. But the people who still knew me knew what I liked best.

Being alone.

It wasn’t that I was a voyeur—on the contrary—but that I didn’t enjoy any of the burdens being a committedly good dom required. Building a relationship, trust, having a flair for public exhibitionism, a tolerance for aftercare—I was just as aware of my own flaws as I was of everyone else’s currently in this room.

Which was why when she came in, in her too-short shiny black catsuit and her strappy black heels, I would’ve bet a stack of hundreds that her fetish costume had come from the Halloween store.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful—she was; the catsuit left no doubt of her figure, which was just curvy enough to grab while being taut enough to bounce a quarter off of—but she was anxious, and I didn’t recognize her, so that meant that she was not for me.

I wanted a sure thing, with someone who already knew I was an asshole.

That didn’t stop her from trotting up to me at the bar, like a nervous yet still-sexy filly. Her long, dark brown hair was in a high ponytail, and it splashed in waves down around her shoulders, giving her a somewhat pony princess look.

All she would need to complete it would be a bit in her mouth, hoof-boots instead of heels, and a propensity for crawling.

“Hi,” she breathed, flashing me a smile.

I took a moment to stare her down before responding, hoping that it might quiet any further attempts at conversation. “Hello,” I said, and turned away from her, observing the rest of the room while shielding myself with my drink.

That didn’t stop her from tapping me on my shoulder.

“Is this seat taken?”

The music was loud enough I could pretend to ignore her. Or I could show her my true nature and just get up and walk away—I owed no one my time.

She tapped me again though, more insistently, not catching the hint. “Um, this seat—was someone else—” she asked.

I looked back with a sigh, caught her shifting slightly as she anxiously pulled down the sleeves of her suit, and I realized her predicament. Her store-bought catsuit was too tight—the only safe place she could get away from the torture of her heels was beside me, at the bar, with its higher stools she could lean on—because if she sat down in that get-up, there was a good chance it would rip.

“I suppose it’s free,” I said, gesturing to it with the drink in my hand.

Her smile—showing off the best teeth Daddy’s money could buy, I was certain—somehow turned even brighter. “It’s my first time here,” she confessed.

“I had guessed,” I said slowly, then remembered the club’s rules and narrowed my eyes a bit. “Where’s your minder?”

Only friends of friends could get into this place and you had to sign off on whoever you brought, at least for the first time. It helped keep the community safe.

She fluttered a hand over her shoulder. “He went to talk to someone.”

“And abandoned you?” I questioned the man’s judgment at once.

She gave a soft laugh. “It’s not like there’s murderers down here.”

I cocked one eyebrow up at her. “How can you be so sure?” Her eyes widened, and it was my turn to laugh. “I apologize. That was a sorry attempt at a joke. Have a good night,” I said, standing and picking up my drink for a location change.

Her expression spun on a dime, looking a little stunned. “Would you like to know a secret?” she quickly asked, over the thumping bass.

And apparently, I had invited this on myself, by being kind. “Not really,” I said, begging off.

“I don’t have a minder,” she said, pressing quickly on.

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