Amber paid the driver and watched with some apprehension as the taxi slowly rolled away. A light snow was falling and it quickly lost itself in the dark New York night. She looked again at the scrap of paper clutched in her hand and then at the dreary façade of number 204. There had been no mistake, as bad as it looked this was the place she was supposed to meet Tom.
They had been talking online for several months and he seemed to be just the kind of Dom she was looking for. He seemed tall, powerful and confident with a wicked imagination. His picture and conversation had left her dying for the real thing. There had been some vagrancy in his description, picture and actions but she had rationalized it away. She was really desperate for a man.
Kenneth, her last Dom had kicked her out of his apartment three months ago with no explanation or remorse. He had been the closest thing she had ever found to what she wanted. Only his egocentric tendencies and total lack of concern for her feelings had kept her from falling for him in a bigger way than she had. Just thinking of the way he had used her so callously made her shiver with anticipation.
She entered the grungy foyer and was stopped by a man in a black T-shirt and jeans. He was sitting on a bar stool in front of a shabby wooden podium and wearing a bored expression. He was tall but heavyset with a thick beard that was beginning to show some gray.
"Gotta see some I.D.," he said in a thick Bronx accent.
She showed him her license and he examined it closely, satisfied he returned it and took out a stamp.
"Ten," he grunted.
She gave him the money and he stamped her hand with the stamp. He didn't move from the stool so she walked through the glass door and into the club. It was typical of the small leather clubs in this part of the city. Narrow front but very deep with a bar on one wall and mirrors on the other. There was a small dance floor and a few chairs scattered about. In the back she saw a door marked private, she was pretty sure what went on back there.
The place was packed with men and women in typical garb. The men in leather vests, pants, shirts and boots, the women in boots and miniskirts with subs milling around nude or near nude. Amber took off her leather trench coat and hung it on the rack near the door. She wore a simple black dress with moderate heels.
She took a seat at the bar and ordered a shot of vodka. The fiery liquid calmed her nerves a bit. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned in expectation.
"Amber?" a somewhat tremulous voice inquired.
He was not as tall as he had claimed to be, no more than four inches taller than her five feet four inches. Unlike his picture he was over weight and balding. She might have been able to forgive those exaggerations, she was not all that caught up in looks, but he exuded none of the confidence or mastery that his online persona did. He seemed rather nervous and even a bit timid. She reacted quickly.
"Pardon me?"
"Are you Amber?" he asked, trying to sound stronger. It was pathetic, in her opinion.
"You must have mistaken me for someone else,"
The little confidence he had been able to muster melted. He mumbled an apology and quickly retreated. She shook her head and turned back to the bar.
"Give me a walk me down," she snarled at the bartender. Her disappointment was overwhelming. She realized this was going to be another wasted night. A feeling of hopelessness and frustration sank in and she fought back the tears that threatened to burst out. She silently vowed that she would rip the computer out of the wall when she got home.
She finished her drink and toyed with the idea of ordering another. She decided against it and was reaching into her purse to get some cash when she felt a presence next to her.
"The usual Solly, and get her another of whatever she's having," a strong, feminine voice commanded.
"You got it," the bartender responded, moving with more haste than Amber had seen him use all night.
Amber turned to see whom that powerful voice belonged to. She was tall, Amber could not be sure because she was sitting, but she guessed at least six feet tall, maybe more. Her skin was as black as night, blacker even then the leather halter and pants she wore. Her arms were heavily muscled and apparently powerful. She was exotically beautiful, in an Amazonian kind of way Amber decided.
The large woman had been watching Amber with an amused expression. Her brown eyes traveled up and down Amber's slight body with frank admiration. The appraising stare brought a blush to her cheeks for a reason she couldn't define. Her own eyes were glued to the woman as if held there by an unbreakable chain.
"Like what you see?" the black woman said in that voice that seemed to grab Amber and hold her.
The bartender brought their drinks and saved her from having to answer that question. She turned back to her drink and kept her eyes averted, but she kept catching herself sneaking peeks at the woman next to her.
"Come here often?" the woman asked conversationally.
"No, this is my first and probably last time,"
"Hmmmm, you don't say. Disappointed?"
"I was meeting someone, he. he didn't turn out to be what I expected," she finished, still not looking at her interrogator.
"A would-be Dom no doubt," the woman replied and then laughed softly to herself.
"Yes,"
"Dickless wonders," the woman replied with a touch of vehemence in her voice. Amber was surprised at how powerful that voice was.
"Like you have one," a short man in leathers countered. There was amusement in his voice.
"Sure do, bigger, longer and harder than yours and I can go all night," the black woman shot back.
