“Do you still want to go to Power Exchange with me tonight?”
Another nod.
“Even if Cree isn’t around?”
He pauses for a moment but eventually nods again.
“Do you want to be my submissive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you like to give it a try? We can stop at any time. You’re in complete control of that.”
No answer. I try to wait patiently, but I still get nothing.
“Please, Rocco.” I turn just enough to be able to look at his face though he doesn’t make eye contact with me. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Again, I have to wait for him to respond. I’m going to have to learn to be a lot more patient, but I want this. Right now, I’m willing to do just about anything to get him to comply.
“I like the idea of someone else telling me what I’m supposed to do,” he finally says. “If someone else could make the decisions for me...I think that might be good.”
“If you’re my sub, that’s exactly how it would be. I’d be the one making the choices for you. You just have to do what I say.”
“I think I like the idea.” His voice is so soft, I can hardly hear him.
“I need a straight answer.” I move my hand to the back of his neck, resisting the urge to grab him by the hair to make him answer. “Do you want to do this?”
“Yes, we can do it...at least try it.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I move my hand back around to run my fingertips over his jaw. He’s stubbly, and the feeling against my skin makes my thighs clench. “I do have one condition.”
“Condition?”
“At some point, I want you to tell me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“Yes, you do.” I lean forward a little and almost reach out, but I feel like it might be too soon. “I may not be a psych major, but I know something happened to you—something big. If we’re going to do this, I want to know what it was.”
Chapter 3—Rocco
“All right,” Casey says, “we’re here.”
I don’t look up. I know where I am before Casey walks around her beat-up Mazda and opens the passenger door. I turn to place my feet on the asphalt and stand facing the doors to Power Exchange.
The building is large and nondescript. No sign advertises what goes on inside, and people who attend are discreet outside its doors. Once inside, we’re both waved in quickly. As regulars, we don’t have to go through the check-in and waiver process of the newcomers. Casey responds when the door monitor asks her a question, but I don’t engage. I’m not one to be social, so I don’t look around to see who is here that I know. I don’t smile and wave at anyone as we head up the stairs.
Casey stops as we reach the landing and sticks her hand into a box full of paper wristbands. She pulls out a red one and tells me to hold out my wrist.
I’ve never worn a wristband before, but I know what each one means. Green means submissive and available to play with others. Blue is for dominant and available. If someone is open for either, they’ll wear both colors at the same time. Orange is for dominants that aren’t taking on new subs, and red is for a sub who has been claimed.
“You all right with this?” she asks as she wraps the paper around my wrist and secures it with the sticky end.
I place my fingertips under the edge of the band and twirl it around my wrist. It feels strange—not bad, but different. That’s what confuses me. Different usually feels bad.
Cree has often worn a blue wristband, but it never even occurred to me to put one on. I was never looking for someone. Power Exchange was just a place Cree had the space he needed to tie me in private. My place wasn’t big enough, and Cree had roommates. This place just made sense.
I glance at Casey as she wraps an orange band around her own wrist. The bright color is in sharp contrast to the all-black ensemble she’s wearing. Although I've seen Casey look out of place with her outfits on campus, her shiny black corset shirt, laced up the front instead of the back, tight miniskirt, and fishnet stockings fit in perfectly with the attire of other dungeon-dwellers.