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    Domino Effect, Chapter 1: Lies

    Story written on November 21, 2005 by Jaded_Wind.
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    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 7637
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=57773
    Author Notes:

    Tina’s journey into the vortex begins

    She’d begun to come to terms with the crash and burn of her
    marriage over the weeks since she’d seen Bette stroke Candace’s arm at
    Provocations and immediately knew what it meant. She’d come to expect a lot of things from Bette: indifference, condescension, impatience that
    sometimes bordered on abuse. The one
    thing she had not expected was infidelity.
    And her world – everything she knew, everything she believed in – had
    imploded when it happened.

    A slight breeze ran its warm fingers through her hair,
    feathering it away from her face.
    Something that felt like wind, but wasn’t wind at all flowed across her
    skin and she rubbed her tingling arms.
    For a long moment, she simply stood in the slipstream of something she
    couldn’t name, mind empty, body still.
    And then, as if a decision had been made for her, she came to an odd
    realization. If her old world no longer
    held a place for her, perhaps there were other worlds that would. So that is what she was doing here, looking
    for a place to belong to again. Or so
    she thought.

    Tina moved down the dark stairwell. The soft scent of many
    things wafted up to her; and she stopped at the smell that overpowered her for
    just an instant. *****. No it was much more than that – sexual
    power.

    She stepped through the door. She was immediately struck by a sense of age. The building exterior was everything modern:
    burnished steel, glass, and new dressed stone. But here, she seemed to have
    stepped out of the world she knew and into one far older. Tina felt transported to a whole other place
    in time, a time when life was simpler.
    When people knew their place, and the place knew its people. A gathering of intimate friends.

    Her eyes first darted to a bronze plaque on the near
    wall: “Club architecture and interior
    design by Doyle”    . Then her eyes
    swept across the entry; torches lined the walls, providing a fiery glow that
    cast flickering shadows everywhereon the walls, the floors, the people. People.
    Not many this time of day, and there were more in street clothes than
    full-on leather.

    Tina imagined a conversation. “Hi, honey, meet me for a lunchtime whipping?” Laughter bubbled up in her and died in her
    throat as something else, some other feeling rippled beneath the surface,
    tugged her, called to her.

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