Page 53 of Renegade
She shakes her head vehemently. “There are a ton of people here just watching. I don’t think I’m actually going to have todoanything tonight, after all.”
My heart sinks a little with disappointment. I was looking forward to at least seeing her sweet little ass squirm for me one more time, even if it was in public and I couldn’t do anything to relieve the need it would no doubt create. She starts talking to the woman standing next to her, who sounds like she’s something of a regular. After a few minutes, Gemma asks if she knows a guy who works here named Valor.
“No,” the woman says, almost shouting to be heard above the music. “Maybe he’s upstairs. Does he work the bottom floor or the top?”
“Um, what’s the difference?” Gemma asks.
“This level is open to the public. Upstairs is where all the fun, private stuff happens.” She pouts. “But tonight, they’re having some sort of members-only event—a casino party, I think—so no one is allowed in unless they’re on the list. But you could ask the guy working the door when it opens if he knows him. Should only be another fifteen minutes or so.”
We’ve been here for an hour, and we’ve only been to the part that’s open to the public? Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t know better and started here, because a couple of drinks and thirty minutes of dancing has erased the tentative look in Gemma’s eyes. Now she looks like the Gemma I love—ready to kick ass and take on the world.
I decide it’s definitely a good thing when we’re finally allowed upstairs. This is the real deal…and I see why clubs like this are casually referred to as dungeons. All kinds of equipment—some of it looking like it belonged in the Spanish Inquisition—fills the room, and most of the women are wearing wrist cuffs and collars. More than a few are topless. But it still somehow maintains an air of classy sophistication. I quickly find Bruce, aka Iron Crow, my contact who got us on the list, and he introduces us around to many of the partygoers, who seem like regular, genuinely nice people once you get past the leather and whips.
“What brings you to San Francisco?” The question is posed by an attractive guy a few years older than me with dark blond hair. While it sounds innocent enough, he’s staring at me with an intensity that belies his casual tone.
“This is Logan Stanford,” says Bruce. “He owns the Dominion.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand. “Thank you for letting me and my girlfriend come.” Gemma smiles engagingly, and I wish like hell my lie about her being my girlfriend was true. I mentally shake my head. We’re here for Liam. I look at Logan and make a snap decision. Sometimes, like with Connie Morris yesterday, you just have to go with your gut and lay it on the line.
“Gemma and I are trying to finish our friend Liam’s bucket list. He was a Navy SEAL, and he was killed in Pakistan a few months ago. The Dominion was on his list.”
That sparks a plethora of questions and condolences from the dozen or so people we’ve been talking to, and after a few minutes I add casually, “I think there’s a guy who works here that he knew. Name’s Valor. Is he here tonight?”
Logan’s hazel eyes are piercing, but he just smiles easily. “Not yet. We’ll see if he turns up later. We’re glad you’re here. Bruce says you’re in the lifestyle?” He cocks one perfectly arched eyebrow at me. The challenge in them is clear.
“Yes,” I lie smoothly. “So that makes this check mark an easy and pleasurable one.”
He nods toward Gemma. “Cuffs are mandatory for submissives tonight.”
“Right.” I open my bag and pull out the wrist and ankle cuffs, which I put on Gemma while Logan watches, that faint smile never leaving his mouth.
“Excellent,” he says. “And what is your bet tonight?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your bet. With your submissive.” He turns to Bruce. “You told him it was casino night?”
Bruce nods. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him about the side bets.”
Logan turns back to me. “We’re playing Texas Hold’em. There’s a two-hundred-fifty-dollar buy-in per couple, and we play for money in the usual way, but for most couples, the side bet between the dom and submissive is the fun part. Many utilize the rooms and equipment here after the game to…shall we say…collect their debt.” He smiles. “So what’s yours?”
It’s obvious that while the owner of the Dominion is guardedly cordial, he wants to make sure we’re who we say we are—an experienced couple who are here to play. It’s time to go all in. My eyes find Gemma’s. Holding her gaze, I say, “If I win, I can use any toy on her—for as long as I want.” Turning back to Logan, I say conversationally, “She’s not a big fan of the flogger.”
“Indeed,” Logan says, his smile warmer now. “And if the lady wins?”
“Then she can pick what can and can’t be used.”
Gemma props one hand on her hip and narrows her eyes at me. “And on who! And I fully intend to win,” she adds cockily.
“You’ve got a feisty one on your hands,” Logan says with a grin. Leaning in so only I can hear, he adds, “They’re the best kind.”
I taught Gemma how to play poker the summer after graduation—when she’d often spend the night at my place to avoid the sleazebag who’d just moved in with her mom—and two hours later, we’re both still in the game. Gemma is the last woman left at the table. Many of the women who have lost are now kneeling next to their doms, one actuallyunderthe table, and the doms who have lost all their chips have already wandered off with their submissives to claim the spoils of their victory.
“How did you get so good at poker?” I tease Gemma.
She flashes me that smile that squeezes my heart like a vise. “I learned from the best. And remember, I was just in Vegas a month ago with McKenzie, honing my skills.”
The table takes a break, and I go to the bar for another drink while Gemma uses the ladies’ room.
