Page 20 of Red Velvet

"Business. My family is involved with Graves' business. I was there to represent them."

"Oh," she repeats, taking another sip from her wine.

"So, what do you think?" I ask, eager to change the subject.

Her questioning eyes meet mine.

"Of this," I clarify, adding a wide gesture toward the room.

She clears her throat while scanning our surroundings as if taking it in for the very first time. The night is still young, so the place is still rather calm and empty. I knew it wouldn't be crowded until later in the evening, as most clients tend to show up an hour or two before the midnight show. It's exactly why I asked to meet her this early.

"It’s very tasteful," she assesses. "Beautiful decor, very good wine…"

"Does it scare you?"

She inhales sharply, throwing me a look from the side. "This? No. Butthatmight."

My eyes follow as she points to the spiral staircase at the other end of the room.

"The playrooms are upstairs, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," I reply, nodding.

"They have different colors. Black, blue and—"

"Red," I finish, and our eyes meet in a quiet understanding.

"That's where we'll go," she assumes, her voice softer than before.

"Is that what you want?"

She nods without hesitation. "I think that'd be appropriate."

"Appropriate?" I repeat, chuckling.

I’m surprised at how serious her face is now, determination replacing all that nervous modesty from before. She presses her lips together, not elaborating, but not hiding her obvious eagerness either.

“Did your sister tell you what the colors stand for, too?”

She nods, and even in this faint light I can see the blush on her young cheeks.

“So you know the red room is all about—”

“Pain,” she finishes. “Spankings, whips, clamps—all that. Yes, I know.”

Her voice is trembling ever so slightly, revealing how hard it is for her to utter these words.

"And how do you feel about that?"

She meets my question with a blank stare, her cheeks blooming red.

"How do you feel about being spanked? Handcuffed and whipped?" I clarify. "Hard."

She releases a small gasp. "I-I don't know." Fear coats her words. She takes another sip of wine, shaking her head as she swallows.

"I’ve never tried," she adds. "How am I supposed to know how I feel about this if I've never done anything—"

"There's one way to find out," I interject, moving closer to her.

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