Leather Bound. Shanna Germain
Читать онлайн книгу.
like talking.
I felt like hiding out in a dark room where no one could see me, and letting all of this go for a little while. Somewhere that I could hide in the dark and think and make some of this stupid sexual desire disappear. Somewhere that I could –
Suddenly, I knew just what I needed. And I knew just the place to get it. Dark. Quiet but not too quiet. Solitary but not too solitary. I grabbed my coat and practically ran to the front desk, where Lily was still hunched over her sketchpad, chewing on an eraser shaped like a robot. A mostly headless robot.
‘Hey, Lil, did you mean it when you talked about closing up?’
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘I changed my mind. You must stay here for ever and ever.’
She must have seen something in my face because she started laughing almost instantly and flapped her hands at me, headless robot included. ‘Go, please. I love you, but you’re starting to make me crazy.’
I leaned across the counter to kiss her cheek, and as I did so, I saw what she’d been sketching.
It was Davian’s face. Almost. Just a little off, although I couldn’t tell how. I tried to puzzle out what it was. The eyes, slightly off-kilter? No. Not the mouth either. Something else. But it was definitely him.
‘Guess I’m not the only one with the hots,’ I teased, tapping the edge of the drawing with my finger.
‘No,’ she said. Her tongue stud flashed silver between her teeth. ‘It’s just that I do remember him from somewhere. But not here, I don’t think. I don’t know.’
‘Well, if you do think of it, let me know, ’kay? And I’ll open tomorrow. On time, I promise it!’
‘Mm-hm’ was her only response as I slipped out the door.
* * *
Leather Bound is in a part of town that most people, locals and tourists alike, just call the Sweet Spot. It’s this little area – two streets, maybe six or seven blocks long, of mixed business and residential – that’s known for being a bit risqué. It’s not a gay district per se, just a sexy district.
Most of the smart businesses play up the theme, giving themselves double-entendre names, like ours. And it works. It’s safely naughty. So if you want to bring your best friend somewhere for her bachelorette party, you’ll probably head here. Maybe stop by Cream for a cup of coffee, then head to Lashes & Lace for toys, then on to Cock’s Tail or one of the other half-dozen nightclubs that offer a naughty ambiance.
I asked around before we opened Leather Bound here, but no one seemed to know why this area is here, or where it came from.
It’s a good place for Leather Bound. Although we’re not specifically focused on sex books, we definitely do our fair share of sales in that direction. Plus, the rent is cheaper than anywhere else, we get more walk-in sales and it’s easy to get to almost anywhere from the store.
Like to Lashes & Lace, which was just around the corner a couple of blocks and down the street. I practically ran there. Now that I had a mission, I had someplace to put all my nervous energy.
I slipped in the front door, the little bells tinkling to mark my entrance. As far as sex toy shops go, Lashes & Lace is high-end, deluxe and very, very lush. The walls are painted in a lovely crimson, and the lights are kept soft and dim. There’s more a sense that you’re walking into someone’s home. If that someone owned a couple hundred sex toys and had a fetish for leather paddles as wall art.
A woman I didn’t know was behind the front counter, her ample curves tucked into a leather corset dress.
Perfect. Anonymity was the key thing I was craving at the moment, and that made things so much easier. And sweeter.
Walking past her, I caught her eye and gave an ‘I’m heading to the back’ gesture with my hand. She nodded. Sometimes I loved wordless exchanges.
A wide black curtain hung at the back of the store, and I parted it to step through. Here, it was even more dimly lit, soft cream walls and flickering electric lights that guided you down a long hallway. Doors opened off either side. I wasn’t surprised to find many of the doors marked FILLED, even in the middle of the day. L&L was known for catering to couples and tourists who wanted a clean, safe place to act out their fantasies.
I slipped down the hall until I found a door that read EMPTY. I swiped my credit card and, when the door clicked open, I stepped inside.
The room was small but cosy. Three walls were covered with long roll-up shades. I knew from experience what lay behind the fabric: floor-to-ceiling windows. On either side, the windows were two-way. If you opened those, whoever was in the room on the sides could see you. Along the wall opposite the door was a one-way window. You could watch the action, but they couldn’t see you.
I know a lot of exhibitionists, those people who get off on fucking in front of people, and I’m thankful for them because I like to watch, but I’m not one myself. The thought of being in front of people, of having sex in front of someone else, makes me feel breathless and weak, as though my legs won’t hold me.
At a basic level, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to let myself go and enjoy it, knowing that someone was watching. It’s more than that, though. I just don’t know exactly what. Maybe it’s the introvert thing. Or a trust thing. Trusting them, trusting myself.
But to sit in a dark corner and watch someone else get off? Yes, please. When I was little I wanted to be Harriet the Spy or Nancy Drew, looking through people’s things for clues, watching through keyholes, discovering the forbidden. That desire has changed over the years, it’s grown up from secrets and clues to sex and lust, but it’s never gone away.
I pushed the button on the wall facing me. As the shade began to slowly rise, I settled into the chair that smelled slightly of antiseptic, anticipating the view.
L&L doesn’t advertise what shows are coming up or send out event listings, so you never know what you’re going to get. Sometimes it’s a couple, clearly into exhibitionism, loving every second of being watched. Sometimes it’s famous porn stars, working a whole room full of bodies, orgy-style. Once Kyle came with me and we watched a threesome, two laughing, giggling women lovingly suck off a man on his knees. It was fun to watch, and we’d fucked on that fantasy for days, but at that time I’d realised something about my voyeuristic tendencies: I like it best alone.
Last time I was here, there was a gorgeous man lying on his back, bound in cream-coloured ropes that contrasted with his ebony skin, his cock beautiful and erect. No one came in or out of the room while he was there, and he never moved or opened his eyes. He was like a statue, a bound, breathing man of stone, only his cock twitching, tiny movements that were almost impossible to see. It was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
This time when the shade slipped up, giving a small clunk as it hit the top, I sucked in my breath at the view. In the larger room, silhouetted by a single lamp that showed off her body but hid her face in the shadows, a woman sat in a small folding chair. Her long brunette hair fell about her shoulders in waves, and her hands were held, possibly bound, behind the back of the chair.
A tiny tattoo – the small shape of something dark that I couldn’t make out from where I sat – rested in the hollow of her throat. She wore a black button-down shirtdress that hugged every curve. It was open from her upper thighs down, showing off a pair of old-fashioned garter clips attached to seamless black stockings. Her chin was lowered, but her green eyes were raised, her gaze apparently resting on the man who stood off to her side.
He was mostly outside the halo of the light, but I could see he was fully dressed in an impeccably pressed pinstriped suit, the cut accentuating his wide shoulders. It was all very 1950s, right down to the hat he wore. The space he took up was larger than his actual body, a presence that was incredibly sexy even through the window between us.
He held a pair of long-handled scissors – the only shiny thing in the room – his hands already settled into the large black handles. As he brought the scissors