Page 17 of Going Deep
Grant and Anna rose to follow Simon and Lola out, Anna shooting her a thumbs up behind Grant’s back that had her stifling a giggle. And then they were alone.
Amusement shone in his green eyes as he rose to his feet and held out a hand. “Well, then. Shall we?”
Before she could let herself think about it too much, she slipped her hand into his and rose from the chair. Standing in front of him, she realized her heels gave her enough height to put her eyes level with his mouth. His sensual, wicked mouth.
Oh, balls.
His eyes twinkled with humor, giving her the uncomfortable feeling that he could read her mind, then he squeezed her hand and turned to lead her to a narrow set of spiral stairs.
“These are the back stairs,” he explained, keeping her hand tucked firmly into his as he climbed. “The main stairs are on the other side of the club.”
“Why two sets?” she asked.
“These are original to the building, and I liked them so much I couldn’t bear to tear them down. But the play on the third floor can get intense, and it’s not uncommon for someone to need to be carried down. So we added another, wider staircase, and an elevator.”
“Oh.” Carried down?
“Relax,” he said, a laugh lurking under the words. “No one’s died yet.”
“How reassuring,” she muttered.
His chuckle was rich and appreciative. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on.”
He pulled her up the last stairs and into another open space. There was no one there, but bright lights illuminated the various scene areas. There was another cross like the one downstairs, and an area on the wall that held shackles at various heights. A sawhorse type thing with leather padding sat next to a wooden chair with the middle portion of the seat cut out of it.
She frowned at it. “What?—”
He glanced at the chair, then at her face. “A submissive can sit, yet still have all the tender bits available for play.”
“Well, that’s handy,” she said, eyes wide.
“Yes, it is,” he said, amused, and walked on.
Other pieces of equipment stood at various points throughout the room, and she realized how crowded the space would be if all the equipment was in play. Lots of people, she realized, all of them watching. Or being watched.
The twin sensations of desire and unease made her shiver.
He tugged her along to the end of the room, and they entered a short hallway lined with doors and windows.
“These are private rooms,” he explained. “Theme rooms.”
“Themes?” she echoed.
“Some people like fantasy play, so these rooms are set up for that. There’s a medical room set up as an old-fashioned surgical suite, complete with an observation gallery. One of the rooms is set up like a Victorian parlor, another like a woodland clearing. There are beds in some of them, equipment that matches the theme in others.”
Ginger lifted a hand to point. “What are the windows for?”
“Well, they’re private rooms in the sense that no one else can come in once they’re in use. But the windows are there for viewing.”
“Viewing?”
“Observing,” he explained, watching her face. “Some people enjoy being watched, others enjoy watching.”
“Can…” She wet her lips. “Can they close the curtains or something if they don’t want to be observed?”
“They can,” he replied, “but all the rooms are monitored, either in person or electronically, by a dungeon monitor.” He nodded to the end of the hall, where a man sat at a small desk in front of a wall lined with monitors.
“Oh.” She swallowed. “So, if the curtains are closed…”
