Yale…

Flawless.

She rested, panting against me, face turned from the standing ovation we received from the crowd as the curtains whisked along their automated tracks, concealing us from view. I held her, our breaths mingling, sweat cooling on our skins as we drifted slowly back to earth from the unearthly heights of our passions.

“Look at me,” I whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face. She sat up slowly, using my shoulders to aid her, her green eyes glassy and distant, unable to focus just yet.

“How do you feel?” I asked softly, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Good, really good,” she murmured vaguely, her voice so very far away. I smiled to myself, riding the high of power, fully entrenched in my top-space even as she floated along, deep in her sub-space.

“Does anything hurt?” I asked her, running my hands along the indentations in her wrists from my tie, massaging the marks gently.

“No, I feel good. Really good.” Her voice held that far-off and dreamy quality and I didn’t wish to ruin it for her. Instead, I held her close, pulling my shirt over to us and wrapping it around her shoulders until she was ready to move. I was perfectly content to wait for such a time. There was no rush.

“Mr. Silver?” I looked up at the quiet male voice, and the masked attendant held up my suit jacket and set it at the edge of the stage. I nodded and told him quietly, so as not to disturb Ally, “Locker 118, I can’t get to the key.”

“Very good, sir. Leave it upon the chair.”

I nodded, and rocked Ally in my lap, pressing her head to my shoulder as she curled against me, motionless and still, riding out the afterglow in peace.

The attendant returned and set her dress and cloak neatly at the edge of the stage, and with a slight salute, backed through the curtain and left. On top of her clothing were the keys to my car. As part of the arrangements, I had requested that it be parked at the back entrance to the club so that I could take her home away from any prying eyes. The show was over, there was no need, in my estimation, to mingle with the guests. I had gotten what I had come for and was beyond pleased with the outcome.

“Come on, baby,” I murmured into her hair and immediately bit the inside of my cheek at the too-familiar term of endearment. She sat up reluctantly at my urging, and I helped her to stand, moving her over to the chair. She sat obediently while I gathered my pants from around my ankles and fastened them around my hips. I redressed first, taking my shirt back from her gently and replacing it with the cloak I had bought her. It was far more rich and luxurious against her skin than my shirt and she deserved that. She had exceeded my expectations beyond my wildest dreams, tonight.

Once I was dressed, my ruined tie in my pocket, I knelt in front of her. She looked down through her lace mask, her eyes clear and bright and I smiled.

“Still feel good?”

“A little shocked, actually.” I tilted my head, a silent command for her to go on, and she smiled faintly. “I mean, was that really me?” she asked.

“It was,” I said with a light laugh and she laughed too. I looked her over, where she was huddled on the chair, holding the cloak to her chin like a blanket and I said to her, “Let me help you.”

She let me take the heavy velvet material and I helped her back into her clothing a piece at a time starting with her bra, and then her dress. I pocketed her panties, crotchless as they were, I couldn’t remember why I had taken them off rather than just fucked her with them on. I wrapped an arm around her waist once her dress was on and hauled her up hard against my body. She took a sharp intake of breath, her hands going to my chest, half in surprise, half to make me stop. I raised both eyebrows and despite the mask, she took my meaning, her hands relaxing, her touch softening as she yielded to me.

I swept a hand between her thighs and pressed it against her bald pussy beneath her skirt.

“While I appreciate the effort, you need to at least grow a landing strip of hair or something. I like to make love to women, not little girls. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” tumbled so beautifully from her lips I rewarded her with a kiss, pressing my fingertips to her clit and rubbing it in slow circles, I swallowed the surprised cry she emitted into my mouth like the sweet piece of candy that it was.

I broke the kiss and swept my hands down her skirt, smoothing her dress into place, holding her steady as she stepped into her heels, a happy pink blush across her cheeks.

I fastened her cloak at her throat for her, and murmured, “Keep the mask as a memento, don’t take it off until we are in the car.”

“Of course, Mr. Silver,” she said and the wicked little curve to her burgundy lips brought an answering one to my own.

I let myself have a moment to wonder if it was her corruption that was just beginning or if it were, in fact, the opposite and that the levity I felt in my soul was the start of my own redemption. I didn’t dwell on it, leading her off the edge of the stage and along the back hall to the side door. I pulled up her hood and held the door open for her to step into a different sort of indigo night, a warm and sultry late-summer one.

She held onto me as we went up the cement steps into the lot at the back of the building and I unlocked my waiting Mercedes with my key fob. I opened her door and tossed my suit jacket, which was over my arm, into the back seat.

I helped her into her seat, sweeping the remaining material of her cloak, which was trying to spill out of the door, into her lap and onto the passenger floorboard and making certain she was secure, her seatbelt going into place, I shut her safely inside the car. I got behind the wheel and started it, putting on my own seatbelt and taking off my mask, which I carelessly went to toss behind me, but Ally plucked it from my fingers, placing it on her lap.

“You want it?” I asked and she nodded softly. I nodded and let her have it. It cost me nothing, and I had no further use for it.

The drive to the Point Side went by in comfortable silence. Ally stared out the window after pulling her own mask free, her eyes wide with wonder as if seeing the city beyond the window glass for the first time. I remembered the feeling. When I had first found myself, what I liked, and that I could have it all? I’d almost felt like a real life superhero with a secret identity. I still felt that way sometimes. Like now, when I reveled in her self-discovery, in the feeling of accomplishment and power that rested on her slim shoulders like the cloak I’d purchased for her.

I turned down her street and rolled to a stop at the curb in front of her building. She turned to me and I tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She smiled a little sadly and whispered, “Thank you.”

I felt my smile grow and said, “You’re very welcome, and thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Wait,” I said as she stepped out of the car and straightened. I dipped my hand into the pocket in my door and retrieved the envelope of pay I usually left on the dining room table for her. She may not have cleaned this week, however, I felt a deep desire to take care of her, nevertheless.

She bowed and looked inside the open door, and her eyes fell on the envelope, her face contorting, stricken and… horrified. She straightened, took a moment or two and bowed again, her eyes alight with rage.

“I’m not your whore, Damien!” she hissed, and before I could open my mouth, she had slammed the door to my car and was striding up the walk. I rolled down the passenger side window. I was angry at the accusation but that didn’t absolve me in any way of ensuring to her care and safety post such an intense scene.

“Ally!” I called and she froze mid-step and refused to turn around. That pissed me off too, but wouldn’t stop me from saying what I had to say. “Take some ibuprofen before you go to sleep and take a hot bath tomorrow,” I ordered. “It will help with the soreness.”

She turned her head slightly but then her posture stiffened and she marched resolutely away from me. I scowled, my anger bubbling even closer to the surface that she would so blatantly defy me. I tossed the envelope onto the seat, shifted gears and pulled away from the curb with an angry squeal of tires.