Chapter 3 Chapter 2: The Workshop
The next evening, Lena pushed open the black door to the lobby with a different kind of energy. The first time had been pure adrenaline; tonight, it was anticipation. The city’s chaotic hum vanished the moment the elevator doors slid shut, replaced by the silence of the descent.
When she stepped out into The Shadowed Parlor, the atmosphere wrapped around her like a heavy blanket—leather, spice, and the low thrum of a double bass coming from the speakers. It felt less like walking into a club and more like coming home.
Mira was already behind the bar, her raven hair catching the amber light. She spotted Lena and didn't even ask; she just reached for the Merlot.
"Petal! You came back," Mira grinned, sliding the glass across the polished wood. "I had a feeling."
Lena climbed onto a stool, letting her shoulders drop for the first time that day. "It stuck with me. The way the room feels... I couldn't shake it."
"That’s the hook," Mira said, leaning her elbows on the bar. "I saw you and Ethan in the corner last night. That breath sync looked intense. He’s prepping the circle now, but your welcoming committee is already over there."
She nodded toward a low table where Kai and Elise were tangled together. Kai, a guy built like a linebacker but with a smile that was all golden retriever, raised his glass.
"Lena! You survived the newbie nerves!"
Elise, sporting a pixie cut and sharp eyeliner, patted the velvet seat beside her. "Ignore him. Come sit. Did you do the journaling? Ethan’s homework is usually intense."
Lena settled in, grateful for the easy inclusion. "I did. Mostly hard limits. No breath play, nothing permanent. But I wrote down curiosities, too. Praise."
Kai let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, you’re in trouble. Praise is Elise’s kryptonite. I say 'good girl,' and she turns into a puddle."
"I do not," Elise swatted his arm, though she was smiling. "You’re the one who melts when I take charge. He tapped out to 'yellow' in five minutes last week."
"It was a tactical retreat," Kai argued, winking at Lena.
"It’s good to talk about it, though," a quiet voice added. Lena turned to see Rhys standing there, nursing a whiskey. He offered a small, shy smile. "Last night helped me process some old stuff. Bad scenes where boundaries were ignored. It’s nice to be somewhere where 'no' actually means 'no'."
The conversation flowed easily, drifting from the heaviness of kink to the mundane reality of their day jobs. Lena complained about a judge who wouldn't listen; Kai told a story about a gym client who didn't know how to use a treadmill. It was disarming. These weren't dark, mysterious figures; they were normal people who just happened to crave something deeper.
Then, Ethan emerged from the back alcove.
He wore a dark shirt that fit him perfectly, the silver pendant at his throat acting like a beacon. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on Lena with a subtle nod that sent a spark straight to her chest.
"Everyone ready? Circle is set."
They migrated to the floor cushions. The group was larger tonight—Tessa was back, along with a few new faces—but Lena found herself gravitating to the same secluded nook, and Ethan followed.
He sat cross-legged across from her, his knees almost brushing hers. Up close, she could smell him—clean soap and that spicy cologne.
"Welcome back," Ethan said to the room, his voice dropping into that teaching register—calm, authoritative, safe. "Last night was the introduction. Tonight is the roadmap. Boundaries aren't walls to keep people out; they're the gates that let people in safely. Turn to your partners. Hard limits, soft limits, curiosities. Go."
Ethan turned his attention fully to Lena. He pulled a small notepad from his pocket. "Okay. Changes from the journal?"
Lena took a breath, reciting the list she’d memorized. "Hard limits: Breath play is too risky for me. No permanent marks, no humiliation. Soft limits: Blindfolds make me nervous, but I'm intrigued. Light ropes." She paused. Curiosity: Praise. Guidance. Feeling held while things are intense."
Ethan wrote it down, his handwriting sharp and precise. He looked up, tilting his head. "Talk to me about the praise. Why does that pull you?"
"I think..." Lena looked at her hands. "In my world, as a lawyer, praise is rare. Everything is a fight. To have someone tell me I’m doing well just because I’m being? Because I’m trusting? It hits a nerve."
"That makes sense," Ethan said softly. "It’s affirmation when you’re at your most vulnerable. My limits match yours on the breath play. As for soft limits, I like using floggers, but only if we build up to it slowly. And my curiosity..." He locked eyes with her. "Is building intensity with someone who trusts me enough to let go of the fear."
"What's the fear holding you back?" he asked, probing deeper.
"Losing myself," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Handing over control and not recognizing the person who comes back."
"Surrender is a temporary trade, Lena. You give me the reins, I give you a safety net. We always bring you back."
Later, the group exercises shifted to role-play scenarios. No touching, just words.
"Ropes are starting," Ethan said, his voice low. "Check your color."
"Green," Lena replied instantly.
"The blindfold slips on. You can't see me, but you can feel me. Color?"
"Yellow," she said, testing the word. "Slow down."
"Good. We slow down. I'll talk you through it. Color?"
"Green."
It felt ritualistic. Solid. Across the room, Mira called out, "Look at you two, looking like pros already."
"Group demo?" Kai suggested from the floor, where he was currently pretending to be bound by Elise. "Do the breath sync. You guys nailed it last night."
Ethan looked at Lena, a silent question. She nodded.
They stood in the center of the circle. "Palms up," Ethan murmured. "Eyes locked. Inhale four... hold... exhale."
The room seemed to fade away. There was only the rhythm of his chest rising and falling, and the storm-blue intensity of his eyes anchoring her to the earth. For a moment, she wasn't a lawyer, she wasn't a novice; she was just present.
The week blurred. The pull of the Parlor became a gravity Lena couldn't resist. She found herself rushing through case files just to make the 7:00 PM circle on Friday.
By the time she walked in for the "Aftercare" workshop, she felt like a regular. Mira had her wine ready before she sat down.
"Ready for the landing?" Ethan asked, meeting her at the edge of the circle.
"Ready," she said.
The session focused on the come-down—the drop that happens after the high of a scene. Kai and Elise demonstrated their ritual, which involved blankets and chocolate. Rhys spoke about the silence he needed.
When paired with Ethan, they sat shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall.
"What do you need when the adrenaline crashes?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I usually just... go back to work."
"Not here," he said firmly. "Here, we land the plane. Words? Touch?"
"Words," she decided. "I need to know I didn't mess up. And quiet holding."
"Okay." He shifted, putting his arm loosely around her shoulders, pulling her into a side-hug. It wasn't sexual; it was protective. "Like this?"
"Yeah," she breathed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Like this."
It was a mock scenario, but the feeling of safety was real. It terrified her, and she loved it.
As they walked to the elevator later that night, the air between them was charged, heavy with all the things they hadn't done yet.
"You’ve got the theory down," Ethan said, pressing the button for the lobby. "You’ve got the vocabulary. You ready for the real thing?"
Lena looked at him—the steady hands, the calm eyes, the man who had spent three nights teaching her how to be safe with him.
"Private session?" she asked.
"Monday. Private room. Threshold tested gently."
Her heart skipped a beat, then steadied. "Yes."
The doors closed, sealing the promise. In the cab ride home, she opened her journal. She didn't write a list this time. She just wrote: Trust is being built. I’m ready to let go.