Page 28 of Salvage Him

Seven

Brooklyn

As we pulledup to the club, I struggled tobreathe.

I had allowed Abbie to dress me in a fitted white button-down over a black corset that pushed my boobs up to the sky. She paired it with a short black leather skirt and black heeled boots. Short of the collar, I lookedthepart.

She went all out in a new Domme outfit she bought for the occasion—a pair of black leather shorts and skintight black leather jacket with lace cutouts. She finished the outfit off with thigh-high black leather boots. I wasn't sure where Abbie got her money lately. She wasn't the type to buy expensive clothes and fly first class at the spur of themoment.

My palms sweated, and a dull ache developed behind my eyes. I was self-conscious. I used to love this environment and feel right at home. I was more nervous about whether they would allow me back in. Like somehow the community in New York would tell Dallas how Iabandonedthem.

No one understood. At the time, I had nochoice.

"Will you relax?" Abbie leaned over and sniffed. "I can smellyourfear."

"Shut up." I pushedheraway.

Shelaughed.

The club wasn't far from the condo, situated under a highway overpass on the fringes of downtown Dallas. The gray concrete exterior and blacked-out windows made the building seem abandoned and old. We pulled up to one of two gates with akeypad.

"It’s 4247." Abbie read from herphone.

I punched in the code, and the gateswungup.

We drove through and pulled up behindanothercar.

A man in his leathers got out, came around the back of the car, waved the attendants away, and opened his passenger door. He pulled on a leash and a woman stepped out. She was tall, thin, and sophisticated but had the familiar air of a submissive in heractions.

My stomachfluttered.

One attendant drove their car away while I pulled up. Two attendants came out from nowhere and opened our doors at the same time. They were dressed inblack.

"Good evening, ladies." The attendant extended his hand, and I took it. He sensed my reluctance and pulled me out of the car. "Welcome to Crush. I will escort you to ourhostess."

I looked over. Abbie led the other guy. How were we placed in our roles when they didn'tknowus?

A short, shapely woman in a corset and leather mini greeted us at the door. Even in five-inch black strappy heels, she wasshort.

"Good evening." She extended her hand. "Yourinvitation?"

"Only if you say please," Abbiechimedin.

The girl blushed andsmiled.

Abbie in full Domme mode was nothing new, but she had stepped it up a notch. She exuded power. Abbie came heretoplay.

The hostess guided us to a small desk in the corner of the lobby. We showed our IDs and signed a confidentialityagreement.

We rode an elevator up one floor, and it opened intotheclub.

Abbie grabbed my hand and walked me into the main room. It was dim but not dark. Dance music played in the background. The place had an air of mystery and darkness, but it wasn'tseedy.

The bar covered the entire back wall. Everyone was in modest, appropriate attire—lots of black, lots of leather, and lots of Texas size hair andcleavage,too.

They looked like the people I saw every day. After work, they changed their clothes, and showed up here. From the screams and the sound of the whip from a far corner, they came outtoplay.

The familiar sound of a paddle as it connected with bare skin made my insides clench. I loved that feeling. I missed thatfeeling.