Page 52 of Always

“Once or twice, though I doubt you would remember.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Emily Loring.”

Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell. But I’m always polite. “Of course. Nice to see you again.”

“Are you alone tonight?”

“For now,” I reply.

Her smile is immediate but subdued. “Looking for some fun?”

I take another sip of bourbon. “Maybe. What do you have in mind?”

She closes her eyes slowly and then opens them. “I think that’s up to you.”

I take another sip. She’s a good submissive. She knows exactly what to say to get what she’s after.

I breathe in deeply and then exhale. “Anything I want?”

“Of course.”

“What are your hard limits?”

“Fire.”

“We don’t allow fire play here.”

“Then I have no hard limits.”

“What about breath play?”

She closes her eyes, a dreamy look on her face. “I live for breath play.”

Interesting. I’m ready to tell her I’ll take her to my private suite for a scene as long as she understands there will be no sex involved when I recognize a golden opportunity.

“Emily, why do you enjoy breath play?”

Her eyes glint in the dim light, a secretive and almost feline smile gracing her lips. “The control,” she replies, her hushedvoice barely audible over the husky tones of the jazz music. “The power you have over my very life. It’s raw and primal. It’s…exhilarating.”

I study her for a moment, intrigued by her response. “What’s your safe word?”

She takes a moment to answer, as though caught off guard by the question. “Freedom,” she finally says.

A peculiar choice, but then again, people choose their safe words based on personal associations. I lean back against the bar counter, considering our conversation and her responses.

A part of me wonders if she truly understands what she’s asking for with breath play. There is an element of danger and significant trust involved in such an act, especially with someone unfamiliar.

Precisely why I won’t engage in it.

“Are you willing to do a scene without breath play, Emily? Because I’m not interested in going that route.”

“Of course. It’s not a requirement.”

“What about sex? Is that a requirement for you in a scene?”

She hesitates, and I can see the uncertainty flash across her eyes.

“No,” she finally says. “While it heightens the experience, it isn’t necessary for me to find satisfaction.”

I run my fingers along the rim of my glass. I’m intrigued by Emily’s directness, her willingness to trust, to give herself over so completely. She might be what I need tonight, a momentary escape.

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