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His words put her at ease. She breathes out a laugh, meaning in close to whisper.

"So this is a treat for you as well. Good. Though I do feel a little overdressed..."

She assumes that will change shortly.

"I've been wondering how you came up with this."

Bringing her here felt like a gamble, but at the very least now, he’s sure she’s not just being game for the sake of politeness. He smiles and takes a swig of his drink to buy himself a second to ponder how honest he should be.

“You’ve always been curious about what interests me,” he says. “And some of this seemed like something out of your books.”

There's a brief grin from Jill before she takes a big swig of her drink herself.

"Two birds, one stone, is it?" She would beg him to tell her his desires if it would work.

"Very naughty of you, Clive."

She loves it and nothing has even happened. She's not the most comfortable in this place, but she's eager to see what might happen.

And the drink will help.

He’s nearly suffocated himself between this girl’s thighs and yet being called naughty is what drags a flush to his face.

“It’s a fitting place to be so, at the least,” he says, and he sets down his glass. “And perhaps I’ll learn something of you.”

Adorable. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, not wanting to embarrass him by laughing at him, but she can't help it. It's so rare to see him blush.

"I can't imagine what you don't already know," she says, but she's been learning things about herself while with others, hasn't she? Jill distracts herself from the thought by resting her hand on Clive's knee and giving him a fond smile.

They're both here, right now, with one another. Tonight is theirs.

The temptation to seize her around her middle, heft her over his shoulder and make for the nearest dark couch is immense, and it only grows with her touch.

“We shall see,” he says, knocking the rest back and moving to stand. He offers her a hand: “Surely something here will challenge you.”

Jill follows his lead, draining the rest of her drink and already feeling a pleasant buzz. She's much more ladylike when she puts her hand in his, standing.

"More than you?" She teases.

If his mother could only see. Clive turns his gaze ahead of them, leading her to wander down the hall and peek in the closest empty room.

"I love a challenge."

The first room is sparse, black walls and a black floor, with a sling contraption hanging from the ceiling in the middle, illuminated by a pot light.

Jill peeks around Clive and into the room.

"It's a little... like a holding cell, isn't it?" She asks, eyes settling on the sling. "How do you use that, I wonder?"

Once, she wandered into the gym in the apartment she first lived in. There were a number of machines and contraptions, but they all had instructions on them. She wonders if something like that exists here.

She looks to Clive with a lift of her eyebrows. Any ideas?

"It's not a holding cell," he says, and it's meant to be equal parts soothing as it is amused. He has few qualms with the dungeon aesthetic taken on by some of this shit, but he's apprehensive that she does. He moves towards it and reaches for the sling, pulling one of its many webbing straps out to reveal loops... and a swing seat. He beckons her over with a nod of his head. "Come here."

It's a little dark for her liking, but but nothing she can't ignore. If Clive is fine with this, then so is she.

And she is curious, after all.

She joins him at his side, tilting her head.

"Is this for me or you?"

"You," he says, and since she's so close, he puts an arm around her to slide her in position in front of the seat. "It lifts you into the air so we can do..."

A pause, a flicker in his smile that has him drawing up the thought to say it aloud to her.

"Activities."

She goes with a little laugh. It's always so easy for him to move her where he pleases, and she loves it.

"Tell me more about these activities," she says, as if a dozen filthy thoughts didn't run through her head.

He stoops slightly to scoot the seat under her ass and gives her a little boost into it, and then runs a hand down her leg to find the stirrup.

"Lovemaking," he says, with a blunt smile.

"Not fucking," Jill clarifies with a playful smile. This seems like a place where you'd fuck rather than make love, but she's not too fussed about what word is used.

She adjusts a little so that she feels comfortable sitting, eyes on Clive. She looks excited, teeth pressing into her bottom lip as he figures the rig out.

He's heard her swear on and off over the past six months, and it still doesn't feel right to his ears, and he can't even say it's in an intriguing way. His own foul mouth feels like a bad habit, something to squirrel away in her presence, but she just says it. He has half a mind to kiss her just to not hear her say it.

Instead, he puts her foot in the sling and gives her a little push so she swings and then bumps back against him. It's just as arousing as watching the dent in the plush of her lips.

"It sounds as though you are already in the spirit of this place," he says.

Every swear and curse feels like a tiny rebellion. She's not sure if she likes it, honestly, but she's still testing out the words. But she does know she likes spending time with Clive, and she reaches out to rest a hand on his chest.

"I want us to have a good time," she tells him, leaning her face towards him, but not quite leaning in for a kiss. "It's all new to me, but I'm eager to learn. I trust you to not allow me to fall onto my face."

“I would never,” he assures her, and his hands glide down her thighs — cautious, at least subconsciously, that they are in public. “Do you want to see the rest, or…?”

Stay here?

Her hand slides up to his collar bone, and she smiles.

"Let's explore some more, Clive. We can always come back here." Ideas are already forming into fantasies she'd like to dive into with him, but how enticing the idea of more is.

"Alright," he says, reaching up to steady the sling from the top. As he does, another couple wanders in, chatting to each other cheerfully, and though Clive keeps his back turned to them, he has the mental image of what they would see if he was railing Jill instead of talking to her. His smile is embarrassed at the very thought. "Let us see what else this place has to offer."

Carefully, Jill hops down. She feels the drink for a moment, a sway in her body, and steadies herself with a hand on Clive's hip. He gets a smile before she takes his hand to lead him out so another couple can check out the swing.

"I'm already having a good time," she says to him, tugging him closer. They're in public, in a sense, but everyone seems preoccupied. "And I hope you know how desperately I want you."

If the hand on his hip — on its face innocuous, functional — didn’t strike him with desire, the conspiratorial tone of her voice certainly does. He bows his face to her but doesn’t kiss her, content to linger close to look at her, meeting her eyes with confidence.

At home, there’s unspoken rules of engagement between men and women, and even over a decade since the fall of their nation’s court, they’re hard to shake. Here, beyond it all, there’s space to explore.

In a building like this, it’s not just permission. It’s encouraged.

He swallows his breath.

“Pick a room,” he says. “I’m yours wherever you’ll have me.”

"I admit, I'm curious about the third floor. No single men," she recites, and she stuffs down the petty part of her that wants to ask if that means him. Not right now, she supposes. "Why would that be? Shall we investigate, Clive?"

It doesn’t even occur to him that it might include him. He just agrees: “We should.”

He also gives a little shrug of his shoulders.

“Too many scoundrels, I assume.”

"But why that rule for that floor in particular? What are they hiding?" She teases, and she slips behind him to put her hands on his lower back, giving the most gentle of pushes forward. She's already playful--hard to tell if it's the mood of the place or the drink. Maybe both. "Let us find a way up."

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Lands at lax

vile levels of excitement

Hee hee hee

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