The Dominator (45 page)

As John spoke to him, Tommy looked at me quizzically for a minute and then changed his mind and next thing I knew we were back in the SUV limo and headed with them: Ben and Olive, John and his wife Katie Cupcake or whatever, and Leo and that Heather woman. The other couples that had been at dinner and the show had made their way back to their hotels or homes. I was a little queasy at the idea of attending a strip joint and was very surprised that Katie Cupcake wasn’t being ushered back to her hotel instead of being here with us. I tried to not let my anxiety show. Tommy was rubbing his thumb across my knuckle rhythmically, maybe reassuringly.

In the limo the energy started to shift and suddenly Katie Cupcake took her wavy blonde hair down from her updo and licked her lips and then leaned into John and whispered something that was obviously very seductive. A look passed between them that made me feel like a voyeur. It was actually arousing to see them look at one another that way. Tommy leaned into me and whispered into my ear, “You good?”

I nodded. He let go of my hand, kissed my earlobe, put his arm around me, and then his fingertips skated down my shoulder. I noticed Olive’s eyes on us. I smiled at her and trained my eyes on the window, watching the lights of Sin City pass by.

The club was dim with strobe lights, had a lot of thrumming bass that I felt in my chest, and looked pretty standard as far as I knew from what I knew about strip joints, which was limited to what I’d seen on TV and in the movies.

It was smoky and packed. We were ushered by a giant of a doorman dressed in a suit through the crowd, past the stage that was littered with poles and cages that all had scantily dressed females on, in, or attached, and down a back hallway and into a theater-like small arena with a stage that had a big screen on the back and heavy black curtains on either side. Tables filled the floor and then there were several levels of tables overlooking the stage area as well. The theater was full, except for several small tables, in the center floor area that had been saved as ‘reserved’ with small tabletop signs.  That’s where we were seated. It was Tommy & I, John and Katie Cupcake at one table and then Olive and Ben with Leo and Heather at the next table.

Drinks were brought, Katie Cupcake and I were drinking cosmos, Olive had a chardonnay, and the guys plus Heather ordered beers. Tommy and John were discussing something about construction or something, I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention but they seemed like good friends, very comfortable with one another. I was feeling way uncomfortable about being there. I’d been feeling uncomfortable in my own skin for the past 24 hours or longer.

The lights went down and then an MC, a beautiful sparkle-covered longhaired redheaded woman dressed in a top hat and glittery bodysuit tuxedo, announced it was the end of an intermission. Then there was a couple on the stage dancing this awesomely choreographed number that was a tribute to Dirty Dancing, the big number “Time of my Life” But then things got weird because then it was suddenly obvious that she, the “Baby” in the act was actually a she-male and the Patrick Swayze stand-in went down onto his knees and pulled his penis out from under the dress and gave a blowjob.  The Patrick Swayze got his pants undone and had no penis and ‘she’ was finger fucking him. So the guy was a girl and the girl was a guy but with real boobs. I was gob smacked.

I looked to Tommy, wide-eyed, and he gave me a little shrug with a half a smirk.  I couldn’t see the reactions of John or his Katie Cupcake because they were sort of sitting closer to the stage and had their backs to us but I glanced over and Leo Denarda was grimacing at Ben and Olive was laughing. Leo’s date was watching with rapt attention, chewing gum with her mouth open. The audience evidently approved judging by show of their applause.

The next act consisted of two nude women doing acrobatics from long ribbons that came down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and artistic and dirty. Way dirty. Their boobs defied gravity, were so obviously fake. I spotted Mrs. Katie Cupcake grab her husband’s bulge and lean in and whisper something into his ear. Ooooohkayyyy then… Mrs. Katie Cupcake Soccer Mom was clearly pretty kinky.

And I was feeling a little bit tipsy. I’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner, wine in the limo, and now had almost a whole cosmo into me. I was about to break the seal and needed the restroom. As the curtain opened and an upbeat song I didn’t recognize started I leaned over and whispered to Tommy that I needed the ladies’ room. Katie Cupcake heard me and said, “Me too,” and then linked arms with me before Tommy could do more than purse his lips.

“Your fiancé is so tall, dark, and hunky, Tia. I’ve met him several times and I bet he’s a handful in the bedroom,” Katie Cupcake said to me while washing her hands. She was definitely tipsy, or more than tipsy.

I smirked, “Oh you have no idea…” I almost flashed my throat at her but changed my mind, logic winning out over my own slight tipsiness.

“I’d like to,” She fluffed up her hair while looking in the mirror and then puckered her lips and put lip gloss on, “You two into group play?” Her eyes darted in my direction.

“Uh, no.” I said flatly, my eyes wide as I tried to de-clump some of my eyelashes with my fingernail.

She shrugged, reached into her purse, and pulled out a little marijuana box-shaped pipe, “Pity. My Johnny doesn’t mind sharing as long as he can watch. I feel the same. If you change your mind I bet Olive would be interested, too. She’s had her eye on ya awwwlllll night.” Katie Cupcake took a haul off the pipe and then motioned to offer it to me and I waved my hand. I didn’t need to be high right now. I was having enough trouble holding my alcohol.

I winced at the swap / group sex bit.  Olive wasn’t unattractive, if you liked the curvy pin-up shaped accountant type, which many would, but I wasn’t in the least bit bi-curious. What was with this group? Clearly Ben put it together well. Tommy was into kink, too, he’d introduced me to it. Wait; were
his
dark sexual tendencies common knowledge?

We walked back to the table amid heavy bass that was thumping in my chest, it seemed, and there was a new drink there for me and Katie Cupcake. The curtain closed on whatever act was ending and a moment later rose again and I recognized the beginning of the song Wicked Game. I knew the Chris Isaak version but this was arranged a bit differently. This guitar-playing singer sat in the corner in the dark on a stool while he sang. It was an acoustic arrangement and, I thought, more powerful than the version I knew, the singer, so very soulful.

A second set of curtains opened and revealed a spotlight-drenched big four poster bed that was artfully unmade.  There was also a screen behind it with images of a bi-racial couple in a collage that flashed through a slideshow of their life together, living a happy-looking life, walking a border collie, eating dinner together staring into one another’s eyes, and curled up cuddling with a bowl of popcorn.

Then another light shone down on the couple themselves.  He was a tall and muscular attractive bald black man with a chin strap beard. He stood on the stage in just a black G-string and towered over her, a petite woman with a blonde pixie haircut dressed in leather pants and a black corset with platform boots. She was the woman in the images but she looked almost nothing like her. She looked like she’d transformed from kindergarten teacher to Dominatrix. He had a long braided black leather riding crop in his hand. I felt sick for a second and then confusion set in as he handed it to her and got down to his knees and bowed into a stretchy yoga-looking pose, his gaze directed at the floor. She circled him and then lifted his chin with the toe of her boot. He looked up at her lovingly.  Then she lifted her chin toward the bed and he climbed on and laid flat on his stomach, spread eagled. She cuffed him to all four posts with handcuffs that were already attached and then proceeded to sweep the whip up and down his body gently. The screen went from pictures of them licking ice cream cones, feeding baby ducks at a pond, riding on a Ferris wheel smiling together, and then zoomed in to a live stream of his face and he was still looking at her lovingly.

Then she started to whip him. I jolted at the sound of the crack of the whip and at the visual. There was a look of pain on his face on the screen and at the sound of the crack and bite of the whip I started to tremble. But as the soulful-sounding song played on and lamented about love and dreams and feelings and wickedness, his face read like he was enjoying it. Her eyes continued to focus on his face and behind the hardness and Domme persona the love on her face was unmistakable.

My heart was crumbling, watching the scene and listening to those lyrics. It was like tears were sitting right in the middle of my throat. My hand came up to cover my mouth but then I felt Tommy’s fingers gently around my wrist. He pulled my hand down away from my face and onto his lap and gently rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand. I knew without looking at him that his eyes were not on the stage; they were on me.

As the song hit a series of high notes at the end the man was untied and they wrapped their arms around one another and lay in the bed and held each other and the screen zoomed in to both of their faces on the bed, both totally at peace, totally in love. They both got what they needed from that scene.

Then she straddled him and fucked him slow and sweet and as they both cried out their orgasm together, the curtains closed and the applause roared.

The show continued with other acts but for me that was it, show over; game over.  I stared ahead for the next 3 acts but I saw nothing. I was just in my own head. When people clapped, lights came on, and there was no more music I was numb getting to my feet. My legs felt like they were practically boneless. I couldn’t even look at Tommy right now. His hand held mine that entire time, squeezing, thumb skating back and forth. I knew his eyes were on me that whole time and strangely, they felt like a blanket; covering me, cloaking me.

We said our goodbyes and got into a taxi outside the club as the rest of them were off to have drinks back at Ben & Olive’s. Tommy declined the invite and Olive got very pouty. Thank God he declined. I’m sure they had
some
party in mind!

Tommy stood outside the cab while I was in it talking to the other men for a minute and then shook their hands and got in with me. He took my hand in his and kissed it and we rode in total quiet back to the hotel.

After I washed my makeup off and brushed my teeth and stepped back into the bedroom he said, “What do
you
need tonight, baby?” He’d taken his bowtie, jacket, and shirt off. The shirt was on the bed.  I’d been standing there taking my shoes off and my earrings out. My eyes were fixed on the silver chain around his throat. His eyes were fixed on me.

The way he said it made sense. What do YOU need? Because he got what HE needed last night. At least he was trying to reciprocate.  I guess.

I thought about it for a minute while he undid his pants and took them off and laid them on the chair beside the bed with his tux jacket. He straightened the waistband of his black boxer briefs.

“I’d like to be alone,” I said softly and met his eyes and I could see by the shift, the shock on his face, that it probably felt like a slap in the face to him.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, then skimmed his bottom lip with his teeth for a second, then I was sure for a second he was going to turn on his heel and give me what I wanted but instead he shook his head, “No. Not that. I won’t ever sleep somewhere away from you if I can be beside you. I don’t care if I’m mad at you, if you’re mad at me, we sleep beside one another. What can I do to make this better? I know I fucked up last night, I fucked up huge. Tell me how to fix it. Please, baby.” He took a step toward me. I took a step back.  He stopped.

I closed my eyes and sighed and then let the dress fall to the floor and then sat on the bed and pulled his white dress shirt over my head, undid my bra under the shirt and pulled it out one of the armholes and tossed it on the chair with the rest of his clothes, and then I got under the blankets. 

He’d stood there quietly watching me while I did all that. Then he got in beside me and pulled me close, “Baby?”

“What if you can’t fix it?” my voice was barely a whisper.

“Please don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that,” his voice was strangled-sounding. “I want to make love to you. I need to make you feel good. Tell me what I can do to make you whimper for me and put your arms around me because you want to, not because I’ve told you to. Let me show you how much I love you.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin. But I didn’t want to feel good. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t know if there was anything he could do to fix things.  How could there be? I wanted to sleep and forget everything I’d seen tonight. Forget everything that had happened last night. Sleep it away, all of it.

His palm swept up from my shoulder to my face until his fingers weaved into my hair near my ear. “Tia, baby?”

I reached up and fingered his dangling necklace without touching him.  He kissed the tip of my nose.

We needed to talk things out and figure this out if we were going to have a future that wasn’t just me pretending to be okay. But I wasn’t ready to talk, I was still processing. And I didn’t know if talking would do anything at all, anyway. He was in control. He made the rules. I was just a participant. Willing or not. I didn’t know if I could be okay with it. With any of it. But he was waiting for an answer.

“Just…” my voice caught.

His eyes widened fractionally as he urged me, with his expression, to continue.