Chapter Text
It's a cold night.
Come hell however cold it gets in December in this place, especially once night rolls around, that's not enough to curb your addiction. You withstand the wind and small prickles of snow in your face to smoke a cigarette on one of the few designated breaks you get from the dungeon. Your dungeon. Where you retreat to every night.
It's been a few years, that you don't really bother trying to retrace your steps back to how this began. Whatever it was that set all this in motion, you've taken your profession as a dominatrix seriously as soon as it began to pay. Being underground but surface level just enough for the right people interested to find you, you've managed to have a fine circle of regular clients. Of course a few bad apples here and there, but just as many knew their place perfectly, and went about the transaction just fine.
You give them what they want, they pay you. Simple as, no strings attached. And for the most part, none of them wasted your time. No complaining, no funny business.
So imagine your shock when you've got an immediate client who's trying to say he's just messing with you.
After a pathetic stomp of what remained of your fag, you returned inside to mend to the used equipment still in the dungeon. You hadn't had anymore clients that had written or phoned in ahead, but it was better to clean and reprepare everything now than the next day, and you never knew if someone would walk in suddenly to inquire. Same old routine, take any gadgets that had been used - cuffs, chains, whips, canes, so on and so forth. Wipe down what was salvageable and throw away what wasn't. Sort and put it all away. It was while you were going through the motions that you heard the front door open, and scurried to greet whoever was at the door. You desperately wanted to hire a receptionist at some point so it wasn't all on you, but given how niche of a business you were running, it proved difficult...
There's no use in fussing about that right now, though. You exited the dungeon and approached back to the front waiting room esque area of the building, scurrying to the front desk without even stopping to really take in your guest. Still, you cleared your throat and spoke.
"My apologies, I'm still cleaning, but welcome anyway. I assume you want to book?"
Now able to stop and take in your client, you saw a tall, stocky but somewhat pudgy young man in a buttoned trenchcoat and black turtleneck, squinting back at you as though he could barely make you out through the quaint darkness of the room. Perhaps most jarring was his grin. A massive shit-eating grin.
Being tired and having had to deal with one too many men who tried to assert power over you, as if that didn't go against everything you fucking worked for to begin with, your demeanor clearly clashed with his.
"What's that look for?" you speak in a far more dignified tone. You really weren't in the mood for some shit.
Almost like a adolescent, the change in tone causes him to straighten up, even if just for a second. And even then, this guy wasn't quite ready to get soft with you; instead now sinking into a pissy reservement.
"For nothin'. Just wanted t' be friendly." he responds furrowing his brows and allowing his auburn hair to be his shield.
Sure.
"Are you always friendly with every bird you chat up?" For whatever reason, you humor him. Just like that, he swings back around to being cocky, smirking again.
"Really now? Don't y'know who I am?" he says as if he's a tumor growing on her majesty's left tit. You're not familiar in the slightest with who this could be. You didn't really bother too much with stars, not that you wanted to be special or anything, just didn't have the time for it, what with your work and all. You just lacked the energy.
So perhaps this was a star, one you hadn't bothered familiarizing yourself with.
"Can't say that I do." you deliver a little more blunt than intended.
Not like it matters, as he simply laughs at you, like you've just said something absurd.
"Really! Aren't you a right case?"
God.
"Takes one to know one." you once again say without moving an octave on your voice, deadpan as possible. He doesn't sink into a bitchy shield this time, still taking some level of amusement in your mannerisms.
Regardless, he still reaches out a hand this time, displaying some level of formality.
"John Lennon."
You take it and state your name. Blunt as always, you make your thoughts clear right away.
"I'm sure you're known for somethin' if you assumed I'd already know you, but I don't concern myself with things like that. Here I only concern myself with work. And I'm thinking maybe you want something from me. So we can just go from there, yeh?"
Once again, his cocky demeanor seems to dip ever so slightly, this time he seemed a little insecure rather than angry however. John refrains from making eye contact when he speaks again.
"Eh. I guess I just, wanted to get a lay of the land, y'know, not really lookin' for anything in particular..."
...you hadn't heard that before. What was he on about?
"This isn't a place you exactly stumble into on accident."
Again, he laughs.
"Suppose it isn't. Because it wasn't on accident. I uh....just wanted to do a bit. My mates are outside, they told me t' come in, yeh..." he tries to play it off as light as possible, but you could sense he felt guilty. Or, at the very least flustered. It was a little hard to tell, with how hard this guy was to understand all around.
Either way, you weren't exactly amused, nor were you infuriated. Just a thorn in your side, really, at least he was respectful for the most part.
"...hm. So you're not interested in anything from me?"
John's breath catches in his throat before he speaks again, still not making eye contact.
"Guess I'm not."
There's some silence.
"Thanks for bein' so understanding, and all. Thought for sure you'd tear me a new one."
You roll your eyes. What a little boy of a man. Still, you smile.
"I don't really care. You can tell your little friends I whipped you or whatever will have them in stitches." he only scoffs at you this time around, not in a condescending manner but one of clear discomfort.
For the first time in a second, he looks at you in the eyes.
"So I'll uh, be on my way now. Have a nice night, birdie."
You nod at him with a neutral expression.
"Night, Lennon."
With that, he finally leaves, back out into the cold night's street you had occupied for a smoke just a few seconds ago, alone as could be. It was fairly late anyhow, it made sense you wouldn't see anyone. Which made the fact this mystery not-client had appeared so suddenly, apparently with a group of associates.
For John, it wasn't a cause for confusion because he hadn't shown up with anyone. He wasn't with his mates, and he wasn't dared to visit for a bit at all. To protect his own ego, he made an excuse for himself, when it had turned out he didn't need it at all. You didn't care. Already, he knew there was something to work with, with you.
He'd be back.