And not succeeding.
“And you just…” I hesitated. “Go in?”
Stefan shrugged. “If you want to.”
I looked at him again. “Doyouever use the dark room?”
He held my gaze. “Sometimes.”
The word settled between us, and my pulse raced. I looked back at the door, then at my drink.
“Do people just… go in there with strangers?” My voice quavered.
“Yes.” Stefan’s hand was on my back. “But you’re not going in there.”
I caught my breath. “Are you telling me I can’t?”
He leaned in close. “No, I’m saying I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
I shivered. “That makes two of us.”
“And if you do eventually decide you want to?” His fingers moved gently up my spine. “You won’t be alone.”
I pushed out a sigh of relief. I didn’t feel overwhelmed, but curious.
Alive.
“Are you okay?”
I took another sip of my drink, then glanced at Stefan. “Yes, I’m fine. And I’m glad I came.”
Stefan’s smile lit up his face. “So am I.”
The way he said it made it clear we were no longer talking about the bar.
Then he leaned in, his breath warming my ear, his voice low enough to carry over the music.
“As a classical musician, there’s something happening tomorrow night that might interest you.”
I turned my head, still half-aware of everything around me—the movement, the heat, the constant pulse of the room. “Oh?”
“It’s a concert,” Stefan said. “In a church. Classical music, but with a theme.”
I frowned. “What kind of theme?”
“Leather. Its title is Classic Meets Fetish.”
I blinked.
“All the performers are in leather,” Stefan continued. “The audience too. It’s… quite something. A sea of it, in a space designed for something far more restrained.”
I let out a quiet breath, trying to picture it, and not quite managing.
“That sounds…” I trailed off.
“Unusual?” Stefan suggested.
I bit back a smile. “That’s one word for it.”