Tersely Pertinent

Chapter 1

Jilly stood before the long-forgotten door.   It stood at the end of a long corridor, in the basement of The Club.  No one went down this far anymore.   Everyone knew the door and the room it led to exist, but people shied away from it.   She was told no one went in because a Dom was murdered there.

The door was like the rest in the corridor.   Simple solid wood, stained cherry red.   Brass hinges dulled by time and lack of maintenance, glass doorknob covered in a thick coat of dust.   The only difference from the other doors was a dead bolt keeping it locked.

Still, Jilly felt something.   A calling from the other side of the door.   Something, an almost pleading beckoning coming from the other side.   Something, or someone was asking to come in.

She placed her hand on the knob, knowing the door would not give.   Madam Webb had told Jilly the key to the door had been lost years ago.   After the murder, the room was sealed and, in time, the key was lost.   Still Jilly twisted the knob and pushed to satisfy her curiosity.

Much to her surprise, the door opened revealed a semi darkened room.   Though she knew no one had been inside for year, a few of the lights glowed with a soft luminesce.   From the doorway, Jilly could see things that the other playrooms on this level had.   Floggers and paddles hung from racks along the walls.   A St. Andrew’s cross in a corner, a spanking bench over there, a wall of mirror in the back.  And centered in the middle of the room was a long-padded table.

The longing pulled at Jilly as her eyes took it all in.   She could not tell if it was her own longing or something else.  

Or someone’s else.

With a deep breath, Jilly and allowed herself into the room.   The pull was too great for her.  She need to be in here.   Step by step, her feet padded across the tile floor.  Before she knew it, Jilly found herself standing before the padded table.   She continued to look around her when she heard a slam and click of a lock.

Turning back to the door, she saw it was closed and knew the locking sound came from the deadbolt.   Still, Jilly wasn’t afraid.   She felt safe in the room but just didn’t understand what was happening.   Placing her hands on the table, Jilly looked around the room, asking “Is someone there?”

No answer came.   She closed her eyes and tried to hear the sound of anyone else in the semi darkness.    All she could hear was her own breathing.  For a good deal of time, Jilly leaned there listening, hoping to hear something but nothing came to her.  She wasn’t afraid.  Just, really, disappointed.

With a final sigh, she decided to leave.   “There isn’t anyting here” Jilly told herself.   Just dust, air currents and wishful thinking.   As she tried to lean up from the table, had a small problem.   She could not move.

It was as if her hands were glued to the table.   No matter how much she pulled, they would not move.   In trying to get a better stance, Jilly felt as if her feet were bolted to the floor.  She was simply stuck where she was.    Her breathing increased as panic started to set in.   Tear started to moisten her eyes.

It was then Jilly felt a warm touch on her cheek, as if the palm of hand placed itself there.   And a feeling of a thumb stroked under her left eye, wiping a tear away.   She felt the fingers of the invisible hand slide down her face and cup her chin.    Slowly, the hand lifted her head until Jilly found herself looking into the mirror wall.

She not only saw herself and the rest of the room, but a reflection of someone else.   Jilly’s eyes took in the image of a tall, well-dressed man.   Black dress pants with a red belt and black shoes.   His shirt was white as freshly driven snow, sleeves rolled up revealing well-muscled forearms.   Jilly also saw one of hands holding the chin of her own reflection.

Her gaze shifted to the man’s face.   It was weathered, like he had spent a good deal of time outside.   Leathery but in a good fashion.   Well-trimmed beard, dark lips closed with a clamped jaw.   But it was the eyes that Jilly drank in.  

The man had crystal blue eyes that drilled into Jilly through the reflection.   Eyes that commanded, and yet pleaded with Jilly.    Eyes that burned and asked her a question.

Jilly lifted her chin from the pressure and said, “I don’t understand”.

Suddenly, she felt some pain, as the hair on the back of her head was yanked and twisted so he was forced to look at a corner of the mirror.   Slowly, letters appeared as if they were etched in the surface of the reflection.    Jilly’s eyes widened as the sentence was completed:

“Do You Consent?”

With realization, Jilly looked down at the table, gulped, and nodded her head.   The grasp on the back of her head yanked again and forced her to look once more into the mirror.  She saw the man had a frown on his back and was pointing at the words.

Jilly locked eyes with the man in the mirror and told him yes.