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Summary
“My god, no. I find communities based on common sexual interests unspeakably tedious.” He dried his hands on a dishtowel, rubbed his bristly jawline, stared at the ceiling. “Tedious and inefficient. When I’m in the mood for a quick round of sodomy and the lash, I reach for my wallet.”
“You hire dominatrixes.” Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. The very first woman she’d seen with Sherlock had had that air about her.
“I have a few regulars. Top-flight, lovely, vicious women.” He looked directly at her; she didn’t flinch. “You could, perhaps, observe one of my sessions. Take notes."