Page 28 of Yield to Me

Chapter 15

The candlelight on the walls lit the lounge, and every sofa and bean bag chair was filled with men in suits, women in skimpy dresses, and half-naked human pets crawling along the ground, kneeling before their owners. Bass thumped through the walls, catching in my chest. I tugged Michael’s hand towards the bar. I ordered a glass of wine and Michael ordered a long island.

It was surprising how easy it was to get access. The guard recognized me but called ‘the boss’ to confirm that he said I could bring a friend to the dungeon. Owen hadn’t technically said it, but I figured Owen wouldn’t say no to me.

“Where do you know him?” the guard asked loudly, after clicking off the phone.

“Art school,” I shouted over the music.

And it was the truth. I figured Owen would recognize Michael from the Foundation’s events. Maybe Owen would even remember Michael from the night Owen introduced me to Wiles. I knew Owen had noticed how Michael’s jealous eyes had watched us from afar. It was hard to say if Michael was jealous of me getting male attention from a prestigious person, or if he was envious that I was meeting Wiles without him.

Michael and I walked through the place slowly, Michael taking it all in with a goofy smile.

“I thought these were a myth. They’re real,” he kept saying. I forced a smile. I was slightly annoyed by his astonishment as if he didn’t have the capacity to understand things beyond his own confinements. A woman in a gold bikini top, a gold masquerade mask, and skin-tight pants sprawled out like a cat on one of the sofas glanced at us, then stuck her nose in the air when I caught her eyes. I wondered if the woman could tell that Michael was a newcomer, that neither of us belonged there. Neither one of us had a membership.

Michael stared wide-eyed as we got deeper into the dungeon. The music was replaced with the clinks of chains and moans of people, sprinkled with the occasional scream. A woman in ballet point stilettos cracked a bullwhip on the back of a man. He shivered and cried each time she struck him. “So you’ve done these things?” Michael asked. He gestured at the couple, then his eyes went glassy as he saw a naked man in a standing cage, a globular metal mask covering his face, attached to the top of the cage. “Or did you just take photos?”

“A little of both,” a male voice said. We both turned and saw Owen, a simple black mask covering his eyes. Michael’s jaw dropped when he realized who it was. “We welcome all deviant artists here.” Owen paused, his eyes tracing Michael subtly. Michael didn’t notice, his eyes were transfixed on the woman dancing around a pole. “Even the occasional tourist,” Owen added.

Tourist? The word sounded accusatory. “Mister Lowell,” Michael said. They shook hands. “I’m Michael Lauder. Riley takes my photography class.”

Owen nodded. “I’m aware.”

“This is surreal,” Michael said, looking around the room. “Where do you begin with this stuff?”

The smile on Owen’s face slowly dissipated. Still, Owen graciously explained each piece of equipment to Michael, while I walked beside them, zoned out. My palms were wet with nerves. I hadn’t been this close to Owen since we had ended things, since the night he made me come so hard I had nearly passed out. The thought of his tongue tickling my thighs, oozing their way down to my sensitive area, made me feel warm, and it was worse knowing that Owen didn’t want Michael there. I knew I might be pushing my luck with Owen, but I thought he would be too busy hosting the party to care about the two of us. He was the one who had brought up the fact that we both were better off without each other, wasn’t he?

Michael slurped the rest of his long island, staring at the finished locker room. A woman was on her knees pleasing a nameless cock poking out from a hole in the shower wall.

“I need a refill,” he said. He turned towards us. “You two need anything?”

Owen shook his head, and I raised my still full glass. Michael walked away, looking out of place in a jean jacket and black leather pants. How could I have forgotten our masks? I scorned myself. I had purchased cheap ones at a party supply store, but I had accidentally left them at home. Luckily, Owen had taken his off so I felt less out of place. I turned towards Owen; his face was dark, covered by shadows. He stared down at me. The lack of emotion on his face made me feel like I had done something wrong.

“Is he what you want?” Owen finally said. My mouth opened in surprise, and Owen’s eyes flicked down to my lips, then back to my eyes. He still wanted me. “Are you sleeping with him, Riley?”

My mouth was dry, unable to formulate words. Even though I had learned to expect forwardness with Owen, I didn’t think he’d ask me that kind of question. Was it his business? I turned my head to the side. “Are you really asking me that right now?” I asked.

“He’s not worth your time,” Owen said.

“And you are?” I scoffed. “You don’t even know him.”

“Being a businessman comes with being able to read people. He’s insecure and impulsive; he doesn’t have the depth you need. And I know you, Riley.” He paused, glancing back to the stairs. “Being a dominant amplifies my ability to read you.” My body chilled at the word ‘dominant.’ I could feel my core yearning to know what he meant. “It’s my job to know you, to know what you want, what you can handle. He can’t give you what you need.”

“And what exactly do I need?” I asked. He held my upper arm, squeezing it in his hand, and suddenly I was leaning back against a piece of equipment. He pressed against me; the scent of smoke and cedar enveloped me, sending chills down my spine.

“Tell me, Riley. Does he know how to make your body shiver and tense at the same moment?” His hand crept down my arm, holding my waist. “Does he know what you’re capable of?” He gently stroked my cheek. “I know you, Riley. He won’t be able to make you weak with pain and pleasure like I can.”

My cheeks heated. Michael hadn’t made me come two nights ago, but that wasn’t the point. It’s not like I had told him that I wanted him to spank me, to grip my hair like he needed me now. I had just...screwed him. “You wanted to end this,” I said, turning away from Owen.

“As did you,” he said.

His assumptions about my sex life infuriated me, almost as much as the fact that he was right. It was unfair that he could point out these flaws in Michael, while simultaneously keeping me at a distance. If he didn’t want to be with me, he shouldn’t meddle in my choices. “This is bullshit,” I said.

“What?” he asked. He leaned in, his tongue tickling my ear in the barest touch. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

I pushed his arm out of the way, heading towards the stairs. “Make up your damn mind, Owen,” I said.

“Riley,” he said loudly. I turned, as did half of the people playing in the scenes around us. I flushed, embarrassed to disrupt their privacy, but I reminded myself that it was Owen who had shouted, not me. He was the one who had orchestrated the dungeon’s rules, and he was the one who had broken them. “Tell me I’m wrong.” His eyes said I fucking dare you.

I rolled my eyes and stomped toward the stairs. Regardless of what he thought, it didn’t matter what I said. But before I reached the exit, I looked to my left and saw Michael without a shirt on, a ballerina stiletto clad woman holding a cylindrical black machine in her grip, a purple strand of electricity dancing along Michael’s chest. He was grinning, laughing as she dragged the machine against his bare skin. The woman leaned into Michael’s ear, and his hips flexed, bucked out as if he wanted to press into her body. He hadn’t even noticed me standing there, watching him.

---