Valerie blinked. Well, wasn’t that an interesting answer?
Laughing under her breath, she joined the redhead for a leisurely stroll.
Most of the scene areas were against the walls. St. Andrew’s crosses were popular. So were the luxurious spanking benches with padded surfaces for the torso, elbows, and knees. They appeared far nicer than the cheap sawhorse ones her small BDSM group had used.
At the very back, down a hallway, was a room Linda called the dungeon. On one side, a sex swing was being used vigorously enough the chains to the rafters clanked slightly with each thrust. Only, rather than a man fucking a woman, a female Domme wearing a strap-on was penetrating a man’s ass.
The guy climaxed with a happy moan.
Uh, right. “Sex is allowed in BDSM clubs?” Valerie kept her voice low.
Linda smiled. “In some. It depends on city and county regulations and the club itself. The Shadowlands does. For a lot of people, pain is tied to arousal, and it’s nice to be able to act on it.”
“Not for you?”
“Oh, sometimes. I’m a 24/7 masochist, one of those people who likes most kinds of pain, and I get cranky if I don’t get my endorphins. But Sam can easily turn a few whacks into a sexual frenzy.”
“There are different kinds of masochists?” Frowning, Valerie stopped by a fire cupping scene.
Leaning her hip against a couch, Linda laughed. “Probably as many kinds as there are people. Are you the sexual arousal type?”
“Um. Maybe?” And wasn’t that embarrassing to admit? “I haven’t had much experience.”
“A lot of masochists get aroused by pain, depending on the Top and the scene. Sadists are just as variable.”
What was Ghost? Not wanting to show her curiosity, she looked away.
And noticed interested gazes from a wide variety of people—women and men, including some around her age.
In fact, as she surveyed the population, she spotted several middle-aged couples. Not everyone reached their fifties and traded out their wife for a younger one.
Linda headed down the other side of the room with Valerie beside her.
“Hey, it’s the old bag with the sag. The frump we got Master to dump.” The piercingly high voice and the hackneyed rhymes were all too familiar.
Barry’s slave was sitting with two young women who’d convulsed in laughter.
Spit. If Kahlua was here, so was Barry. Yes, this evening had taken a quick right turn right into hell.
Was Alisha at the club, too? Doubtful. She didn’t particularly like people.
Bad enough Kahlua was here.
Spirits sinking, Valerie kept walking.
“Seems like she found someone her age to hang out with,” Kahlua said loudly. “Like two hags in a bag.”
“Shut up,” one of the young women snapped. “The redhead is Master Sam’s submissive. Do you know what that sadist could do to you?”
Linda didn’t lose a step although she wrinkled her nose as if she’d stepped in dog poop. “I assume the mouthy one isn’t a friend?”
“Not even close. She’s one of the slaves my ex brought to live with us.” After getting out of sight of Kahlua, Valerie stopped. “I should go. I really don’t want to run into my ex. He’s the kind to make a scene.”
Linda shook her head. “Are you going to let your ex-husband dictate all your choices? Permit him to ruin any fun you might have?”
The blunt words had Valerie straightening. “Put like that, the answer is obviously no.”
“Let me introduce you to some people for a buffer if you need one. And I might have a word with the manager. Disrespect to other members is frowned upon.” Linda moved forward again. “You said the mouthy one is one of your ex’s slaves. How many did you end up with?”
“Two. Kahlua was the second—whom I didn’t agree to—and one of the reasons I left.”
“Ah, I see. Polyamory works for some people, but I’m glad Sam isn’t interested.”
“What would you do?”
“I’m not sure.” Linda pursed her lips. “Discuss it. But it would change things. How I see him. The trust. I can intellectually think that loving another doesn’t diminish what we have, but my emotions don’t agree.”
The relief of Linda’s understanding and sympathy was so profound, Valerie couldn’t keep walking. “That’s how I felt. Barry said I was selfish and insecure.”
“Maybe. Or is he selfish and insecure, instead?”
The question was a startling light in the darkness. Valerie stumbled. “Why didn’t I ask myself that?”
Linda frowned. “Have you talked with anyone like a counselor?”
The idea made her laugh. “BDSM and counselors don’t belong in the same zip code.”