Release Me

Epilogue

Ten Years since the day of Dominick's pronouncement of Regency

A cool breeze snaked its way down my spine, raising goosebumps across my skin. Below, two valets nodded their customary greetings to the arriving members before dutifully accepting the keys. It looked like Parker's quarterly art show was going to be another hit. I smiled at the thought, and the small connection that remained between my old life and this new one.

Across the stone-paved courtyard, the solitary light in the PR office glowed invitingly. It signaled that Samantha was ready to plunge back into our fabricated persona. This peculiar creation, the alternate author of my numerous books, was born from our desire for a specific perception by the world.

The original rush of viral interest had waned long ago, yet the hard-core fans remained eager for the next book. Samantha always made sure she could mingle with her latest crush band, no matter the circumstances. Not even marriage or multiple partners slowed her down. Kade was right years ago; she adapted to the scene like a duck to water.

I stole a glance at the digital clock on my phone, hoping the hours would speed towards midnight. The digits seemed frozen. If they hadn't come for me after all these years, they must have moved on, replaced me. The first five years, I thought I was safe. But each year, on the anniversary of my departure, the sense of foreboding returned.

"I thought I'd find you up here," Kade's voice cut through the silence, startling me. "Looks like Mr. Chase might outdo himself tonight."

"Most likely. The question is, how much edginess can this crowd take?"

"They've kept up so far. Don't underestimate those in the soft world." Kade walked over, leaned on the railing beside me. "I've noticed an increase in some unusual lapel pins among the club ones, lately."

I crossed my arms, rubbing them with my hands to ward off the chill of his question.

"Some new members are... in the grey zone. They pay more because I guard their secrets. As I do for all our members. And I work hard to keep mine hidden."

The rooftop door creaked open, spilling light across the surface. As Edmund approached, we turned to face him. A few years after the club opened, he had become one of my submissive clients. Despite my thinning roster, he was one of the few I still regularly met.

His needs were simple. He yearned to cater to my every whim, bestow lavish gifts upon me, all the while upholding an impossible standard of perfection wrapped in a hint of light humiliation. When we met for our first session, there was an uncanny familiarity about him, though its source eluded me. What made me keep him on, even when my packed schedule left little room for others, was attributed to his graceful movements and impeccable attention to detail. Perhaps his presence resonated with memories from my time in the Society, or he somehow embodied the lingering twinge of regret over my decision. Regardless, his enigmatic allure consistently captured my attention, coupled with his uncanny knack for anticipating my schedule and needs. He held a perfect place in my world.

Edmund approached with barely a sound, his suit impeccably tailored, as always. He held a perfectly balanced silver salver on the flat of his hand. Two cigars lay with in the center, along with two glasses of what I presumed to be Scotch, and a long scarf draped across his arm.

"Understanding the tension this night often brings you, Domina, I've brought your favorite indulgence; cigars for you and your guest, along with a glass of richly flavored Balvenie Portwood 21." He lowered his head and held out his offerings.

Both of us picked up a cigar and a crystal rocks glass. Edmund tucked the salver under his arm, pulled the scarf to its full width, until I turned my back to him and draped it over my shoulders. Then he pulled a butane torch from his pocket, first offering it to me, then to Kade when my cigar was lit.