Page 20 of Pretty Little Thing

The red door unlocks. I swallow hard. Point of no return, as they say. Then again, I already threw down twenty dollars to be here. Might as well get my money’s worth.

I step forward and push the door open.

Soft music greets me, a deep and moody track that definitely sets the mood. The lights are dimmer than earlier but much brighter over the Victorian chairs along the wall. The seats are mostly occupied by a wider variety of people than I would have expected. Some sit back in cocktail dresses and ties while others mingle in corsets and... full body latex suits.

I glance at my little, black dress. At least I’m not overdressed.

Or am I?

“Dom or sub?”

I flinch at the sudden voice next to me in the corridor. I look up into the shadowed eyes of a man in a gray suit with a bright, blond perm.

“Huh?” I ask.

“Are you a Dom?” he asks, enunciating. “Or are you a sub?”

I ease back from his hard, impatient stare. “Neither, currently...”

His eyes fall from my face, slowly gliding down my body to my strappy heels, and in that moment, he makes up his mind. He turns away and moves on to a tall woman in pink boots sitting in the nearest chair. He very audibly asks her the exact same question.

“Sub,” she says.

Once again, he turns and walks off. She shrugs and starts chatting up the girl in the seat beside her again. Guess he didn’t like her answer either.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty, little thing?”

I spin around and gasp at the hidden face. It’s a man — I think — obscured behind a skin-tight, black latex suit from head-to-toe. I squint, searching for eye holes. How the hell does he see out of that thing?

“Uh-huh,” I say.

“I’m Roger. You look familiar but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

I shake his hand and he squeezes my fingers. Hard. “Yeah, I’m new,” I say, hoping he doesn’t actually recognize me from somewhere else. There have been plenty of articles published about me in the last few years. I should have thought about that before. I would be walking around here in one of these bodysuits, too.

“Sweet! I remember my first time here. It can be pretty traumatic for a newcomer.” He laughs like a jolly child. “So, do you work around here?”

I shift awkwardly, double thinking this whole conversation thing. My eyes drop for a brief moment and I pause at the very obvious erection tenting his suit.

“Uhh... sorry...” I pause, forgetting his name.

“Roger,” he says.

“Roger, would you excuse me? My friend just arrived.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure! No problem!” He steps aside, his suit squeaking. “It was nice to meet you, mystery newbie. Give me a holler later if you’re down to fuck.”

He walks off, leaving me with a feeling I can only describe as whiplash.

I blink. “O-okay, I will...”

Maybe the quiet room isn’t the best place for me. Too much talking going on…

I take a quick step toward the stairwell. According to Melanie, the second floor is where the magic happens. Open rooms. Spying eyes. Come and watch a few scenes play out, whatever the hell that means.

I climb the stairs with one hand hovering over the railing. Again, the higher I go the lower the lights dim around me. That low bass music follows me up. It must be piped through a speaker system in the walls.

I reach the top and swallow hard. It’s more crowded up here but the air is still and quiet. Just a brief whisper here and there. A chuckle or two.

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