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Marjolein's voice dropped lower. Bottles of Veen had been left to chill in a bucket of ice. My stomach tried to crawl backward out of the room, but my feet stayed firmly planted. Good luck, Alexa. The layout of the room coaxed me to one side of the half circle of cards. I grabbed a bottle of Veen from the side table on my way, rolling my eyes at the obviousness of it being the only refreshment offered. Removing the cap, I took a sip as my eyes landed on the first image on the table.
Me with Freddie. The inept dominatrix and her borrowed slave. My expression in the photo looked like someone had forced me to handle a highly poisonous snake instead of Freddie's leash.
The second picture was more of the same. I lifted my bottle of Veen in a salute, sensing that Dylan Kehoe had strategically placed everything in the room to produce a certain psychological impact on me.
I noted the point of first set of images readily enough. I wasn't cut out to be a domme. Tell me something I don't know. I guessed what was on the other side of the horseshoe, but I didn't immediately turn to look at the selected shots.