I spill my vodka. ‘No!’
‘Hey, hey, calm, relax. I don’t want to insult you. I think you enjoyed the show, that’s all.’
My face flares into fiery heat. Was it that obvious? I can’t look at his sly grin, and I can’t think of an answer.
‘It’s OK,’ he says, after a few seconds of silence. ‘I enjoyed it too. Why not? It’s just a bit of sexy fun, right? Oh, now you are embarrassed. I don’t mean to embarrass you.’
One slender finger touches my cheek, brushing it tenderly. A high-voltage shot of desire streaks down to my groin. Fuck. I think I fancy this freak show of a dude.
‘This is just too weird,’ I mutter. ‘I don’t know what I think.’
‘You don’t have to be shame,’ he says. ‘Everyone has their little different what’s the word?’
‘Quirks? Kinks?’
‘Kinks. Right. You like this spanking kink, no shame.’
‘I think shame is kind of the whole point.’
‘Oh, OK! You like to be shame! I get it.’
‘Why am I discussing my sexual preferences with you?’
‘Because you like me. Anyway, what happens next in there? You think they all are spanked. Do you think it becomes sexual? Does he fuck them?’
‘What, all four of them? I doubt it.’
‘True, four in a row is hard. But possible.’
He winks at me and I slap the air in front of his face. What a cheeky bastard this man is. What a sexy cheeky bastard.
‘Maybe they all have an orgy on the desks. I haven’t got a clue.’
‘You think they pay him? Or he pays them?’
‘Oh, perhaps. Or they could just be like-minded friends who get together and play ye olde boarding schools every third Wednesday of the month. I guess that happens.’
‘Hmm.’ Dimitri’s eyes cloud over for a few moments and I watch him lose himself in thought. I start to wonder about him. Who the hell is he and what is his purpose in coming to London? Is he as mad, bad and dangerous to know as the vibe he emits suggests? ‘You see, Rosie, I need work. I need money. I think I could beat some asses for a living. Easy, no problem. And I will enjoy it too. Better than working in some kitchen, right?’
‘I’m not sure the market for that kind of thing is exactly huge,’ I demur, and then I break off and hide my face with the food menu because the ‘teacher’ and his four pupils have just walked through the door.
‘Hey, great, I can ask him!’ exclaims Dimitri, ignoring my wail of ‘Fuck, no!’ He springs out of his seat to confront our new acquaintances.
I follow him, trying to stop him, but I am too late. I hide my face in my hands and utter desperate prayers while he accosts the teacher.
‘Excuse me, I am new in town and I have a question.’
‘Oh, really?’ The teacher sounds wary, but he doesn’t seem to recognise us, which is some scant comfort.
‘Where is good fetish club in London?’
Silence.
‘Oh my God,’ I mutter into my hands.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘No joke, I promise. I like to spank girls back home in Russia and I am requiring this service in London, is possible you can help me?’
I really think I might die of cringing.
‘Shall we drink elsewhere tonight?’ The teacher addresses his flock. ‘I can’t cope with lunatics just now.’ He turns stiffly and leads his pupils out of the pub.
‘Great. Nice work,’ I snipe. ‘What the actual fuck are you on?’
‘Hey, you like shame, I give you shame. What’s wrong with that?’
I am seriously contemplating calling an emergency taxi when the door of the pub opens again and the girl who was caned, pigtails still bobbing, slips in and tiptoes up to us.
‘Sorry about him,’ she says, cheeks pink. ‘But if you want to know the best place in London for BDSM and fetish, it’s actually just around the corner from here.’
‘Oh yes?’ Dimitri leans towards her and she seems to quiver like an aspen. Oh God. He obviously has this effect on all women.
‘It’s called Kinky Cupcake, but you can’t just go in. You have to know the password. It’s members only.’
‘How you get to be a member?’
‘You make friends with another member. I’ll be your friend if you like.’
‘I will like that a lot.’ His voice is all low and seductive, bloody man-whore that he is.
She giggles. ‘OK, tell the doorman that Trixietots sent you. The password is Lacoste.’
‘Trixietots. Lacoste. Right.’
‘Have fun. Maybe I’ll see you in there sometime. I really ought to go now, or Mr Strict will wonder where I am. And I don’t want to make him angry, believe me.’
She giggles again, flutters her eyelashes and flees.
‘Does this happen to you a lot?’ I ask, curling my lip. ‘Random women throwing themselves at you?’
‘You are jealous?’
‘No! But you love it, don’t you? You’re a man-whore.’
‘Man-whore? A gigolo? I could do that. I am very good at the sex.’
I give up. This man’s relationship with shame is utterly opposite to my own.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ he urges and drains his vodka.
‘Go?’
‘Yes, to this place, of course. Kinky Cupcake. You want to see inside, don’t you?’
Of course I do. Of course.
But now? And with him?
‘They won’t let us in. Or they might let you in, but probably not me. You’re the one old Trixietots there was interested in.’
‘Stop make excuses. What are you afraid of?’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘Yes you are. I know why you’re afraid. You may have to be honest about your, what was it, your kinks. You’re scared of your kinks, right?’
‘Wrong.’
He shakes his head, giving me a look of disapproval that makes me see exactly how good he’d be as a stern teacher type. Very good. Blinding.
My legs buckle. Suddenly I just want him so badly I could …
‘You want this,’ he says, bending down to speak the words into my ear. ‘Here is your chance to get what you want. Take it.’
‘Don’t leave me in there,’ I whisper. ‘Stay with me.’
‘I’ll stay with you, I promise.’
He takes my hand and walks with me back across the estate and into the street where I work. The office lights are all out now, but it’s too late to panic about the air-freshener campaign. I have a new campaign on my mind.
I hold on tight as he knocks on that oft-regarded door.
It opens a fraction.
‘Password,’ demands a disembodied voice.
‘Lacoste,’ says Dimitri.
The door