Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Thanks to my internet surfing, I’d probably flagged a number of bots to track my internet history and learned a stack of new words that I’d never heard of before. Terminology such as Drop: for those emotional exhaustions that took place after a scene. Similar to what I’d experienced after Nick and Hunter had finished with me. Dungeon: the place where a scene took place. Dungeon Monitor: an overseer of safety and consent—which I supposed that was what Hunter was in his big top. Edge play, impact play, breath play, role play, and blood play. So many plays. So many tricks and temptations and—
“You alright, standing there all alone?” A woman dressed in a flowing black dress that trailed on the floor behind her smiled. Her dark stunning skin soaked up the lowlights of the club and her short cap of tight curls made her savagely sharp bone structure look as if she had blades beneath her skin instead of cheekbones.
I swallowed hard and nodded. “I...I think so?”
She chuckled with a bell-like laugh. I didn’t know how she did it, but my heart skipped into a little crush. Thankfulness that she’d talked to me. Gratefulness that she was so kind.
“First night?” she asked with a cant of her head.
“That obvious?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She grinned, taking in my choice of ‘street legal’ attire. I’d decided to go with a suggestion I’d seen on a Fetlife community board and took their question to heart: if my father saw me in this outfit would I die?
Well...no chance of that happening, but...if my boss saw me, at least I wouldn’t be mortified.
Smoothing down the same black dress I’d worn when I’d gone to Spectacle of Secrets, I stepped down the two stairs, leaving the entry foyer behind. Two bouncers had checked my ID and asked me a bunch of supportive questions to check I was here of my own free will and knew what stepping inside entailed before even allowing me to get to this point.
“I’m Ella.” She held out her hand, a droplet of condensation from her champagne glass glittering on her fingers.
I slipped mine into hers with a quiet laugh. “Seriously? That’s my name.”
Glancing around at the milling men and women—all dressed neatly and normally—she smirked. “Real name or nickname?”
“Nickname?”
“You’re welcome to go by your given name of course, but some of us prefer a pseudonym.” She grinned. “My real name is Mary, but...my nickname is Ella.”
“Well, I suppose seeing as there’s already one Ella here, I better come up with another.”
She laughed. “You can use it if you want. There are multiple Sarahs and Tims and Samanthas.”
“No, I think...I think I’d prefer a different one. Something that makes me feel powerful, you know?” Biting my bottom lip, I tried to come up with something and, of course, every name vanished from my head.
Typical.
Watching me, Ella (that’s so strange) smirked. “Do you have a middle name?”
“I do.” I smiled. “But it’s very unusual. My parents...” I winced, aware that for the first time ever, I willingly brought them up in conversation. I’d gotten so used to shoving their memory away—so I didn’t have to feel the pain—that it’d become second nature not to mention them.
Yet here...with a woman I’d only just met, I wanted to give her a piece of myself that I’d never given anyone.
Patting my hand, Ella sighed. “They’ve gone?”
I nodded but didn’t let sadness well around my heart. Instead, I smiled and made them come alive through reminiscing. Whether or not they’d appreciate being reincarnated in a sex club was a matter I didn’t dare dwell on. “They always called me their little scholar. Said I was all work, no play. Blamed me for my lack of interest in living, when books and knowledge were so much more interesting, but...it was their fault, really. Not mine.”
“Oh?” She sipped her champagne. “How so?”
“Well...my dad was a history professor and my mother a retired archaeologist. Knowledge to them was kryptonite. When they had me, they decided on a simple pretty first name and saved the crazy, meaningful one for my middle.”
“The suspense is killing me.” Ella winked.
“It’s Hypatia.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of that one.”
“Hypatia was the leading mathematician, astronomer, and philosopher of her time. It was said she was a trailblazer in the city of Alexandria. That her death symbolised not only the downfall of intellect but also the end of the classical world.”
“Heavy.” She chuckled.
“I know, right?” I sighed, suddenly feeling lighter than I had in years. To talk about them. To pull their memories out of the shadows and share them.
A shiver of rightness ran down my spine.
My insides brightened.
My heart glowed.
Yes.
This...this is right.
I was meant to come here.
I was meant to live, even if that meant putting down the everlasting pursuit of information. I didn’t want to be like Hypatia, whose death collapsed an intellectual dynasty. I wanted to be free.