Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

The bed sits on a raised platform, dominating the room. In the corner, a burgundy leather sofa with a matching chair creates a small sitting area. The colors are a perfect accent to the rich brown and beaten gold of the paint and curtains.

Along one wall is a line of wood-stained cabinets with gold knobs. I drift toward them and pull on the closest knob. Hanging from hooks is an assortment of restraints. There are padded cuffs, satin ropes, straps, spreader bars, and blindfolds. I trail my fingers along them, testing the flex and softness. Every object is made with or covered in buttery soft leather or silky fabric.

I move to the next cabinet, following the white rabbit down the BDSM rabbit hole. Feather ticklers, soft floggers, nipple clamps, paddles, and vibrators galore. By the time I finish my perusal, my mind is ablaze with possibilities.

Zed shifts my attention to some of the ‘furniture' spaced throughout the room. There's a swing I find perplexing until he elucidates. By the time he finishes showing me where my feet and ass go, I'm having flashbacks of my first foray into the world of gynecology.

"So what you're saying is, I sit there," I say, pointing to the incredibly small seat that looks more like butt floss than an actual spot to sit, "and my feet get strapped into these things?"

"Precisely."

"That's an awful lot like putting my legs in stirrups so the gyno can look up my cooter." Using Blanche's term gives me a special thrill.

Zed laughs. "Never having shown my nonexistent cooter to a gyno, I can't say, but I will tell you that your cooter will be on full display in a plethora of ways."

"A plethora? You mean like a plethora of pi?atas?" He doesn't get the reference, which makes it funnier. I cross my arms and study the device. "I hope that thing is bolted securely to the ceiling so I don't fall on my ass."

My squire laughs and tugs on the chair. "Have no fear. Like everything in this room, it's securely fastened," he winks, adding, "and has secure fasteners."

I snort. "I bet."

We spend another few minutes moving through the room, my anxiety and excitement heightening with every gadget that's revealed. The room itself is surreal, transcending reality into a realm of sexual fantasy. The space is air-conditioned, but by the time we leave, my body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and my heart is pounding.

He follows me out and locks the door, quirking an eyebrow when I stop and fidget.

"Am I, um, going to officially meet Darien in there?" I nod toward the closed door .

"No. We want you to be at ease before you are entertained by the delights behind that door. There are numerous social spaces where the two of you can get to know each other a bit before getting to know each other ."

"Very funny. You should try the comedy circuit," I say dryly.

"Where do you think they recruited me from?"

The mental picture of Zed on a stage in a comedy club makes me giggle. "Was that after your Netflix special? You know, it's too bad you couldn't nab that fresh score on Rotten Tomatoes. Maybe next time."

"Critics." He shakes his head, grinning at the game we're playing, sensing it eases my anxiety. "The audience loved it. A full popcorn bucket."

We leave the building and make our way along a winding path. He points out various locations where Darien and I can have our formal introduction. I choose a small courtyard surrounded by tropical plants and trees that create shade and privacy. White Adirondack chairs form a circle around a tiled table. It's peaceful and private. Although I know the latter is an illusion. Somewhere in this space are cameras. Someone is always watching.

"Will you be here when I meet him?"

"Would you like me to be?"

I nod.

He smiles, a look of supreme pleasure on his face. "I'm honored. I will leave if and when you indicate the desire for privacy."

"Thank you." And I mean it. Zed is a lifeline in all of this craziness. I gaze about the courtyard, pleased with the location. A breeze rustles the leaves, shifting the light fabric of my dress. I flatten the billowing material, then look up sharply at my squire. "I get to wear this when I meet him, right?"

"Silly girl." He shakes his head. "Accepting the offer of a Master is your official transition to Novice. Novices do not wear clothing in the presence of their Masters."

Great.

Sandals, plus the barrette holding my unruly hair out of my face, are all I'm wearing when I arrive at our designated meeting spot that afternoon. Darien is there, once again clad in a loose-fitting pair of pants that tie at the waist and a matching tunic. His deeply tanned skin is lustrous against the light fabric.

My steps falter at the edge of the courtyard. Zed takes my elbow and guides me forward, whispering, "A world of self-discovery awaits you."

I give a subtle nod and move with him, eyes glued to Darien's face. My new Master comes forward, clasping my hand and leading me to a chair. He sits next to me, his knee brushing against mine.

"Eden." His voice is deep and sensual, coming out as almost a purr.

It's a good thing I'm sitting down, because I think the sound of my name on his lips makes my legs tremble. They'd probably give out on me if I were upright. "Darien." Did my voice shake? Crap. Now I sound like I've got a schoolgirl crush, which I do, but that's not the point. I glance at Zed, who lingers beneath the huge fronds of a palm tree. He gives me an encouraging smile.

Fixing my attention on Darien, I try to recall one of the questions I'd come up with earlier, but the tropical heat is causing early dementia, and I can't remember a damn one.

Darien rests his hands on the arms of his chair. I notice they're rather large, and according to urban legend, which I subscribe to when it suits me, large hands mean a large package. It would be impolite of me to try to catch a glimpse of said package, but I do anyway. Sadly, his pants are too loose, and the judges are out.

He watches me watch him, and suddenly, the humidity isn't what's making me feel flushed.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he asks.

"Huh?"

Head tilting, causing a lock of black hair to fall just perfectly across his brow as a slow smile spreads across his face. "I'm not surprised, considering the state you were in when we met."

"I don't… what?"

Darien smiles fully, and I think I've been whopped in the head by one of those palm fronds, because the effect on my body is instant. Leaning forward, his large hands hanging from the arms of the chair, he says something that acts like a key, picking a lock on my memories, "I recruited you."