Page 23 of The Laughing Game

He chuckled. “Oh, my darling. I’m very good at drawing things out, don’t worry.”

I thought about the video I’d watched with the Dom who had teased his submissive for so long and my mouth went dry.

“Fuck.”

“Look, Gideon and I have a session booked in the Bordello on Friday…”

“Yes,” I said.

“Pardon?”

“I want to go with you.”

“Why don’t you join us in the gaming parlor. We can have a drink and discuss…everything.”

“You don’t want me to come to the Bordello?”

“Angel. Of course I do. But I’m not sure you’re quite ready for all of that. You just asked me to go slow.”

I had asked him to go slow. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Yes. You’re right. Drinks in the gaming parlor sounds great. I’d love to.”

“Excellent.”

“Except. Fuck,” I said, remembering that my car was out of commission.

“Hmm?”

“My car’s in the shop and it might not be ready this week.”

“That’s fine. We’ll come and get you. Text me your address. And, Angel?”

“Yes?”

“I. Can’t. Wait.”

* * * *

I couldn’t stop thinking about Friday, but I didn’t know what to wear.

I didn’t own anything particularly fancy, besides a few business suits. My fashion tended to be on the conservative side, although now that I was stretching the definition of my sexuality, it might be time to expand my wardrobe. Except I didn’t know where to begin and it was too late to find anything for tonight.

The men who went to Maverick Molly’s tended to dress well. Probably because it was supposed to be a Victorian gamingparlor, and harkened back to a time when people of a certain social class dressed up to go anywhere.

Surely I could dress myself. But I’d been standing and staring at my closet for much too long, thinking everything I had was too plain for a night out at Maverick Molly’s. Why hadn’t I realized this sooner than the day of? Although, without my car, I wouldn’t have been able to go shopping anyway.

I started pulling things out of my closet and trying to figure out what might go with what. I didn’t realize the time until I got a notification and a text.

It’s Gideon. We’re outside. Are you ready?

I was standing in front of my closet in my boxer briefs and a button-up shirt that I hadn’t fully committed to. I texted back.

Sorry, I’m not ready. I don’t have anything to wear. Can you help?

A reply came soon after.

Of course!

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