Page 6 of T is for…

Her turn.

Tara looked around the Subs’s Garden again.

The Subs’ Garden was a suite of rooms. Normally the space felt almost empty, but since there’d been an all-club meeting, everyone was here. All around her the other subs were chatting and prepping. Some were sitting silently, looking anxious as they waited to be called to a playroom or courtyard by their new game partner.

She wondered which one of these people was going to be Nathan’s partner.

Tara winced, tucking her e-reader back into her locker before going to the long counter and dropping onto a padded stool.

Thinking about Nathan was a bad idea. She was rather proud of how she’d handled running into him. It wasn’t the first time they’d huddled against a wall to talk shop, though usually it was a hotel hallway at some conference or other.

Tara took a comb from the elegant box on the long counter and brushed through her hair. It looked okay, but wasn’t glossy and lush. She needed to do more than just wash it with a shampoo bar, but she’d never been good about a hair care routine the way her sister was.

Soon that would change.

Everything about the way she took care of herself would change.

She pulled her hair into a long ponytail at the back of her head, gaze skimming the reflection of the room and people around her.

This would change too.

This was the last weekend she’d be here.

Maybe this checklist game was a good transition into what came next. A remarkable end.

Tara rubbed lotion into her forearms, elbows, and neck, her focus on what the future might look like. Anxiety and joy in equal measure made her heart race.

She was lotioning her legs, more for something to do than any devotion to skin care, when the intercom in the ceiling clicked on.

“Sub Tara to the Iron Court. Wear a robe.”

Tara stilled, anticipation and a touch of nerves sliding through her. Now she was second-guessing her decision not to read some kinky romance. It was harder for her to submit when not aroused. But surely her “partner” would want to do some scene negotiation and maybe setup prep. Hopefully during prep she could come back to the Subs’s Garden and get herself properly ready.

The fact that she’d been instructed to wear a robe strengthened the idea that this was just going to be a “nice to meet you, what are you into” conversation and maybe scene negotiation, not jumping straight into anything

Tara stood, tugging at her club attire, before heading for her locker and grabbing a knee-length, sapphire-blue robe she usually wore for meals. The blue looked good with her complexion, but the soft clingy microfiber wasn’t exactly sexy the way shiny satin was.

In those moments, her mood shifted from pensive to anticipatory.

Tara checked her reflection one more time. She was smiling. The confusion and consternation she’d felt during the announcement had been replaced by excitement. Tonight felt right, this game the perfect way to end her time at Las Palmas.

Tara stepped out into the night, headed to meet the partner who would dominate her.

Tara shivered a little as she stepped into the Iron Court. Each of the three “courts” referred to a Spanish-style square building with an open-air courtyard in the middle. In the Iron Court, the garden didn’t have plants. Instead, the covered hallway lined the four sides of a haunting, statuary-filled space. Each of the doors that opened off the hallway led to a playroom.

These playrooms were designed for the darker and more intense scenes, many of them resembling medieval dungeons rather than elegant bedrooms.

Tara’s excitement didn’t dissipate, but it was tempered by caution. The point of the game was to push people to try new things. Both new partners and new kinks.

Where the other two courtyards had greenery and seating areas, here there were heavy concrete statues depicting moments from BDSM play.

Looking around, she wondered what letter she’d been assigned. She knew at least one of the playrooms had a cage in it, so maybe C for cage. She glanced around the eerie garden.

The small stage in the center of the courtyard would be perfect for some sort of auction scene role-play—though she didn’t think “auction” was actually on the club’s checklist. She just liked that trope in books.

Tara stopped beside the stone form of a naked woman on her knees, head bent, legs spread. She glanced around, a delicious shiver of fear working its way down her back.

A shadow moved, and for one fanciful moment she thought a statue had come to life.

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