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“If you change your mind, I can make you forget about them in a heartbeat.” His grip tightens before he releases me and leaves.

That wasn’t so bad.

“An ex?” I turn toward the voice. There’s a guy two seats down from mine. He’s slick, built, and looks nice, but does nothing for me.

“No,” I simply reply, thanking the bartender for the gin and tonic.

“You look lost. Maybe I can point you in the right direction. What are you into?”

“I’m—” I can’t finish the sentence and blush instead.

“Don’t feel embarrassed, this is the place where your desires can come true. No judgment.” He points at a guy who’s sucking on a pacifier while snuggling on an older man’s lap.

“And it’s not always about sex. Some people just need to be someone else or their real self for a few hours.”

What is Uri doing here then? He can be himself at the base. Is there more to him I don’t know about? The thought hurts so badly.

“You look pale. Scott, a shot of vodka,” the nice guy calls the bartender. “Here, drink this.” He hands me the little glass a few seconds later.

As soon as I down it, a loud cough rips out of my chest. My throat is on fire.

“You fucking act like you need someone to take care of you. Are you a submissive or a little?”

“A what?” I gasp out, trying to clear my voice.

“Guess not. What are you doing here?” He looks at me with a curious expression.

“I told you I’m looking for someone.”

“We don’t do names here. Describe him.”

“He has long dreads and piercings all over his face.”

“I think that’s the Pain Giver. Does he have I’ll-kill-you-if-you-come-closer brown eyes?”

I nod with my mouth open in shock. “Pain Giver?”

“That’s what he’s called around here. I saw him going toward the rooms a few minutes before.

He always takes guys into room three.” He whistles, pointing to my right at a dark corridor.

“Once, by mistake, I entered the gallery and got a peek, but I’m not really into D/S, B what happens when I crash?

“I’m…what…am I doing…here? Such an idiot.” I can barely get the words out.

Another shot is pushed in front of me, and I gulp it down.

“Don’t feel stupid, just remember some people voted for Donald Trump,” the nice guy tries to joke, but I can’t find any mirth left in me.

He’s giving me a pitiful look. God, I hate that look.

“Drink.”

Another shot goes down.

“Better?”

“Worse.” The tears keep rolling down, but I’m not sure if it’s because of Uri or the burning sensation the vodka is creating.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were serious about him, I’ve never seen him with the same guy here. I expected more of an angry soap opera reaction.”

Maybe I should do that.

“I have to leave you now. My pet is here. Do you want me to call you a cab?” He pats my head like you’d do…a pet.

“No,” I sniff pathetically. “I have a driver and two bodyguards waiting for me outside.”

“Okay. If you decide to try something new, come visit us in room six. You can watch if you want.”

I nod as he leaves, but I know what I have to do.

It’s the reason why I came to the club. I take a couple of deep breaths and suck some courage inside my body as I slide off the stool and wipe off the tears from my cheeks.

I don’t feel drunk, and that’s okay, I need to see this with clear eyes. I need to see the Pain Giver .

I slowly but purposefully walk toward the black corridor.

There are gray doors on each side, the numbers are not in order.

I can hear a moan coming from room number nine, then a scream.

I quickly step away and keep going until I get to room three’s gallery.

My trembling hand grabs the knob, and I let out a long trembling breath as I open the door and step inside.

My heart feels like it is about to leap out of my chest.

“Cry for me!” It’s the first thing I hear. Uri’s voice, the exact same words and the exact same tone he used with me.

My stomach lurches, my whole present narrows down to him and him alone.

He steals my undivided attention, wearing black leather pants and a black button-up shirt with rolled sleeves.

In his hand is a long whip that almost reaches his bare feet.

It feels like I’m having one of my X-rated dreams where Uri is the protagonist. But my usual heart-pounding euphoria is missing.

A whimper resounds, and it’s like a veil is lifted from my eyes and I can see my surroundings. The king bed covered in black and gray silk sheets, the table filled with sex toys and condoms, and the whimpering man tied to a wooden pole wearing only lace lingerie and fishnet stockings.

The scene in front of me is like a mental punch in the gut. My stomach lurches again, but this time my dinner is dangerously close to climbing back up.

The guy turns his face toward me. He has a ball gag in his mouth, long black hair tied in a braid, pale skin, a frail constitution, and blue eyes so similar to mine but filled with utter ecstasy.

As soon as I realize how alike we are, I can’t keep it in anymore.

The contents of my stomach go right onto the red carpet.

I kneel on the floor near one of the chairs facing the glass wall and grab a napkin from the table on my right to clean my mouth.

My eyes move again to the scene of their own will. The long, thin, red marks on the man’s back are from the whip—the whip that Uri is holding. Those are the marks of envy and betrayal—a betrayal so deep, so bitter, it is making a hole into my chest.

Uri growls—such a hot sound. I can read eagerness and bliss in the tense lines of his jaw and shoulders, not for me but for him .

What did I expect? This is a sex club. And Uri likes to make people suffer. Why didn’t I ever connect the dots? He doesn’t find me disgusting. He simply doesn’t want to give it to me, but this guy, he looks like a regular for Uri’s attention.

I focus on him again and the pleasure filling his features.

Ones so similar to mine. Did I remind Uri of him?

It’s crazy, but when I saw them at first, I thought he stole from me when perhaps I took something that was his.

Uri just took pity on me because I was high, and then again when I was shaken up because of the stalker. I made all the rest up.

Can a heart shatter this quietly? Because mine has just exploded, but I can’t hear a single sound.

It’s like the carpet was yanked from under my feet, and I’m lost in the dreadful expanse of this club.

The strangled noise leaving my lips echoes into the gallery.

It makes Uri slowly turn toward the glass wall where I am.

For the first time in my life, I feel disgusted by the thought of him near me. Looking at me. Touching me.

An overwhelming impulse to flee the room engulfs me, and I yield to it.

I turn and once again run away. There’s a funny ringing in my ears, and I have to stop for a moment to lean against the black wall and take a deep breath.

My vision turns blurry, and I feel cold even though my heart is racing.

Everything feels fictitious, disjointed.

It shakes me down to my soul. The number seven on the door in front of me comes into sharp focus, and I remember the words of the nice guy at the bar. Was it room seven?

I hear heavy footsteps coming my way and a bellowing voice. Gritting my teeth, I turn the handle and get inside the room, quickly closing the door behind me. I don’t know if it was Uri or if he saw me in the gallery, but I saw him, and I wish I didn’t.

“Hello.” A male voice makes me spin around with a gasp.

It’s not the nice guy. It’s the other one. The one who hit on me after I sat down at the bar. He’s sitting on a chaise lounge with a glass in his hand. Is he alone? I don’t see anybody else in the room.

“Changed your mind? This must be my lucky night.” He smiles too smugly. Annoyingly so. But that dark, confident stare, I think it can help me right now.

“Can you really make me forget?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He slowly straightens and stands up like a panther ready to pounce. “If you are into certain kinks.” He takes a sip from his glass before adding, “The submissive kind.” His teeth shine under the rose lights.

“Sounds good,” I hear myself reply.

If he dominates me, I’ll become helpless, thoughtless. I won’t keep replaying that awful scene over and over in my head. In front of my eyes.

I see a sink on the right and go wash my face and mouth.

“No sex,” I tell him as I dry my hands.

“How can I not oblige? But know that I’d be willing if you reconsider,” he clarifies. “Safe word?”

I know what he’s talking about, and I don’t need to think too hard. “Four.”

“Four. Alright. Take off your clothes, leave the underwear on.”

Uri’s familiar scent washes over my senses as I remove my sweater and shirt, but the memory of him with that guy makes me move faster. My mind is reeling.

Am I really doing this?

“Red lace. Nice. Kneel on the bed. Arms out.” As I do what he orders, I notice he took the robe he was wearing off, and now he’s only in his blue silk boxers.

He ties my hand to the bed’s headboard tight enough to hurt. It feels good and off at the same time.

His thumb brushes over the number four burned on my inner wrist. “A lucky number, perhaps?” he asks me, still sporting that wolfish smile.

“The opposite,” I mutter.

His low whisper reaches my left ear. “You’re about to experience paradise.” Something cold brushes my back. It’s smooth and flat. “Just do what I fucking say.”

His voice feels wrong. Bile is coming up my throat again, but I stay put. I need this. Need to erase Uri from my head.

“Give me the pain,” I let out between gritted teeth.

“As you wish.” I can hear the delight in his tone.