he & She by Wayne Clark

Author:Wayne Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: midlife crisis, alcohol abuse, depression and loneliness, aging acceptance, books about bdsm, books about femdom, books about sexuality
Publisher: Wayne Clark

CHAPTER 17

Ming Empress

The session time actually ended up being later instead of earlier, 8:30.

“And it’s not the usual place,” she said at noon that day. “It’s around the corner from you. If I beat the crap out of you, you can still limp home.”

The pre-session taunts, threats and teasing provided the soundtrack for his day.

“It’s between Seventh and Eighth. Find the door that says PB on it. It’s downstairs. Tell them you’re there to see me.”

He arrived early. At first the blonde at the desk at the bottom of the stairs couldn’t find a record or the appointment.

“Does she work for us, or is she an independent?”

“Indy, I guess.”

“That means she rents dungeon space from us,” she explained. She rummaged through some papers on the desk, pushed aside the magazine she’d been reading, and finally checked the computer.

“Nope. Nada.”

His heart fell.

“I know it’s tonight,” he said. “She’s leaving the country tomorrow.”

“OK, honey. You said you’re early. We’re not booked big time tonight. If she doesn’t show up you’ll get your pick of our mistresses. Come here,” she said, getting up, walking a few feet to her left, and opening the door to a tiny, windowless room with dark green walls. He hesitated. He glanced downwards for a mini second at her high heels, and then up her fishnet stockings, which came to an abrupt end at a short black skirt. She held the door open for him. He had to brush by breasts to enter.

“There are some magazines on the table beside the chair.”

Other than an old Newsweek, there were only nightlife listings and bondage and discipline ads, some European, some local, from glossy to newsprint. No stories, just photos of doms and dommes and dungeons with all the usual promises — he felt he was becoming an old hand — and contact information.

He stopped at one dungeon ad. It was for the dungeon he was now waiting in. He learned that PB stood for Pandora’s Box. He remembered watching a TV show about it. Apparently it was famous. Though he was still in Midtown, he felt he had definitely gone uptown in dungeons.

After rifling through the other publications, he put them aside. There was only one domme he wanted to think about. He stood and did some stretching exercises. They got rid of the sway back that settled in after a day of sitting at a keyboard. Tights were unforgiving. The stretching also got him breathing deeply again. Seeing her had continued to be like Christmas morning as a kid, excitement holding his chest in a bear hug. He had to inhale.

A knock. The receptionist poked her head through the door.

“She’s here. She’ll get you after she changes.”

It was 8:37. He didn’t know whether the clock was already clicking on the hour he would pay for. From a large Apple Store bag, he took out his tights. He’d be ready when she came to get him.

Minutes later, she ushered him into a vast room with a ceiling that must have been two basketball hoops high.

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