Maisy's Keeper: Club Drift, Book One (The Club Drift Series 1)

by Saffron Hayes

  This had come in quite handy after the car crash, when the police had asked what had happened in those thirty seconds between the everyday and the catastrophic. When it was something more personal and infinitely more painful, though, Maisy found there was no real use for this biological quirk at all. The phrase ‘we need to talk’ coming unexpectedly from a partner’s lips is one sure way to trick a brain into feeling that the world is about to come crashing down.

  “What’s up?” She asked, fixing her smile in place while she scrambled to make sense of his strange behaviour.

  He met her eyes now for the first time since she’d approached. He looked tired, older than he had when they parted a few hours ago. “I’m sorry, Maisy, but I have to stop mentoring you now.”

  “Mentoring...?” She frowned. Oh! The six weeks mentoring thing that Claude had insisted on when she arrived at the club. How long had it been? Four weeks? Less? It felt like a lifetime. “That’s okay, I kind of assumed we weren’t doing that anymore anyway.”

  “No, sweetheart, I mean...,” He looked so pained that Maisy automatically reached up to touch his cheek, the urge to comfort him temporarily taking over from the strangeness, until he gently pushed her hand away.

  She shook her head, overwhelmed by the coldness of the gesture. His grip on her arms grew firmer for a moment, his expression unreadable, then he let her go entirely.

  “We can’t see each other anymore. Matilda or William or any of the house crew will be happy to help you find a Dom of your own. I’m on duty now, excuse me.”

  He turned and started walking towards the shadowy tunnel where some of the bigger public scene areas were located. Claude took a step towards Maisy, unnoticed by her or anyone.

  “Wait!” She called out before she knew what she was going to say, but all she could think was one word, “Why?”

  He didn’t even turn around, just glanced over his shoulder, “I told you I don’t do anything beyond casual play. You knew not to get attached.”

  Chapter 31

  Office

  Maisy felt the strong arm settle around her shoulder before the first tear fell.

  “Come with me, petite.”

  She let Claude guide her through the bar, past the main entrance to the staircase in the corner that led to a door marked ‘private’. She’d never been through here before. Any other time she might have been fascinated by the lush décor and unmarked doors they passed, as it was she could barely put one foot in front of the other.

  “I told you I don’t do anything beyond casual play. You knew not to get attached.”

  His cold eyes, the careless tone with which he’d dismissed their relationship as nothing. Could he have chosen any way to hurt her more deeply?

  She was vaguely aware of Claude settling her on a deep sofa and patting her arm. He crossed the room to use a landline that was sitting on a commanding desk.

  This must be his office. Deep green walls, dark wood and leather furniture – its old-world sophistication suited him. She’d have to ask if they could have event meetings in here in future. That’s if she went ahead with planning the event after...

  “You knew not to get attached.” She shivered, the icy tone becoming icier in her mind. Of course. He had warned her, Carl had warned her, she’d warned herself.

  Men like Daniel didn’t want to be in a relationship with girls like Maisy. She’d known that from the start and he’d been clear. Just because they’d spent that time together, just because she thought it had taken a different direction doesn’t mean that things had suddenly changed. How could she have been so stupid?

  “Maisy? Oh, sweet little one. I am so sorry.” Claude sat in a leather armchair that was angled towards her sofa and offered a tissue. “You must not give up hope. He is just having a moment, I am sure.”

  She laughed through her snotty tears, “Thank you, Claude, but he’s made himself very clear.”

  When she’d wiped away the majority of the tears she could see that Claude was frowning and not merely at her distress.

  “You have to understand; it is a difficult situation.”

  “I know, it was all explained to me before. Daniel doesn’t date. It’s fine, I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away.”

  “No, no, no, sweet Maisy. You should have. You had to. Please don’t think it was not real. He just has a past. Who doesn’t, no?”

  She sniffled and nodded.

  “This is my fault. I am sorry.”

  She frowned, “How -”

  Matilda threw the door open and stormed in, “You meddling fool.”

  To Maisy’s great surprise, the all-powerful owner of Club Drift’s response to this attack was merely to look sheepish.

  William followed Matilda, every muscle in his usually languid body taut with anger. His silent glare at Claude was far more cutting that anything he could say. The two house Masters sat either side of Maisy like guardian lions.

  “Thank you for coming. As I was saying, Maisy, this is somewhat my fault,” Claude said.

  He ignored William’s snarled “Somewhat, my arse.”

  “I don’t know how much gossip you’ve heard about Daniel’s past, but I think it’s important that you know the truth now.”

  Maisy nodded, bewildered but comforted by the anger being shown on her behalf.

  “Some time ago Daniel was in love with a woman called Alicia.”

  Matilda sneered at the mere mention of her name, when she saw Maisy’s curious face she interrupted, “I do not forgive easily.”

  “Indeed,” Claude continued in a measured tone, “She is not in favour here. Anyway, they were very happy, very involved at the club, they were even engaged near the end. She was a submissive who fitted as perfectly with Daniel’s needs and desires as he fitted with hers.”

  Maisy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, it was bad enough that Daniel had dumped her in front of the whole club, did she really need to hear about how amazing a fit his ex was?

  William squeezed her shoulder gently, “Get on with it, Claude.”

  “Oui, forgive me. One day, somehow, Alicia’s family found out about the nature of their relationship and everything changed.”

  Matilda, ever impatient, interrupted again, “The idiots thought Daniel was abusing her and she never told them the truth. Instead of explaining that she was 100% on board with the kinky bits of their relationship she pulled away, let them believe it was all him, let them go around telling people he was a sick bastard. The police were involved as well, you know? He even left his job because his firm got wind of the trouble.”

  “Oh God,” Maisy felt a pang of sadness for Daniel so strong she nearly started crying again. “What happened?”

  “She left him.” William said, bitterly. “Just like that. Turned up at their door with her brothers to get her stuff, told him she ‘Didn’t want anything to do with his filth anymore.’ Cold as fuck.”

  “Jesus,” Maisy said, imagining how that would have hurt him, “That’s horrible.”

  “Telling me he was her soulmate one week, pulling that shit the next,” Matilda’s anger could melt steel.

  “Yeah. She’s a bitch.” William was staring at Claude, waiting for him to continue.

  “So, now you know why Daniel had a policy about dating or even playing outside the club. It was easier for him to limit his relationships so he wouldn’t be burned again. I encouraged, well, I forced Daniel to see you exclusively for your first six weeks as a member because I saw a spark between you and I wished to blow on it, so to speak. I had hoped that Daniel would overcome his aversion to dating when choices were removed from him. I still believe this is the case. He just appears to have hit a road block.”

  Maisy spluttered, too baffled and angry to speak or even cry anymore. She couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening. William and Matilda were here, furious on her behalf, because Claude had forced Daniel to date her?

  “So, he never wanted me in the first place? He was just doing what you to
ld him to do?” Maisy spoke slowly, barely able to believe that the words she was saying could be true.

  “No! Petite, that’s not the case at all. I merely encouraged what was already there, you see?”

  “Shut up. I’m sorry, but shut up. I can’t believe you people. What is wrong with you? You can’t just meddle with people lives like that.”

  “I told you so,” Matilda said, glaring at Claude.

  “You’re just as bad. You knew. You nominated me too, why didn’t you say something? You just let me be a pawn in this weird bloody experiment?”

  William grabbed her other hand, “Maisy, pet, it’s not like that I promise. Claude’s a bloody idiot, but it’s not like Dan never liked you, I reckon he even l-”

  “Stop. No. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” Maisy stood, grateful that her legs were steadier than she’d anticipated they’d be. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”

  Chapter 32

  How Does It Feel?

  Maisy got home somehow, she didn’t really remember. All her brain space was used up thinking about Daniel and the rest of...whatever that mess was back at the Club.

  “Hello!” Harry called across from the sofa in the next room when she heard Maisy open their front door. Maisy nearly turned around and left again, but she no longer had anywhere to go.

  Reluctantly, she closed the door behind her and started towards her room. If she was very lucky she could get to her bedroom and get cleaned up before Harry noticed anything was wrong.

  Unsurprisingly, however, Harry had sensed something was amiss the moment Maisy didn’t return her greeting, so she was looking over the sofa waiting for her when she entered the living room.

  The playfully stern face she’d worn, prepped for an interrogation, melted to soft concern for a split second before being replaced with scowling fury. “Who is he and where is he? Do I need to have a word?”

  However diverting the image of tiny Harry squaring up to six foot plus Daniel was, Maisy couldn’t laugh. Instead she managed a feeble sniffle and gestured at her bedroom door. Harry ignored that and did what all the best people do when their friends are sad and trying not to cry. She took Maisy in her arms and told her everything was going to be okay which, of course, gave Maisy the space she needed to let the tears fall freely.

  Sometime later, when they’d held each other until Maisy’s tears slowed down and her shoulders stopped shaking, Harry asked what she’d been dying to ask from the moment Maisy had got home.

  “What on Earth are you wearing?”

  Maisy looked down and found to her horror that her coat had flapped open at some point during the roommate hugging-and-crying-fest and her skin tight, unnaturally shiny, and obviously fetish inspired skirt was out for all to see. Also available for Harry’s inspection was Maisy’s longline bra which was still masquerading as a top.

  “Um...”

  “‘Um’ isn’t good enough, missus.”

  “No, I suppose it isn’t.” Maisy wrapped her coat back around herself and tried to think of any way to explain her turning up in floods of tears and fetish gear that was less complicated than explaining the truth. In the end, she decided the truth was more than good enough and all she could manage in the state she was in, anyway. If Harry didn’t like what she heard, well, that’d be a conversation for another day.

  So, she told her. She hugged a cushion to her chest, sat on the sofa they’d gotten for free off Harry’s mum when they’d moved in, and she told her best friend about her new, secret life.

  She told her about the forums, how she’d gone for the introductory session at Club Drift and met Dan, how they’d gifted her a membership.

  Harry interjected with a question here and there, “What’s a single tail?” being the first with, “What the fuck?” following very closely on its heels. Mostly though, she held Maisy’s hand and she listened. Maisy told her about the awe-inspiring tunnels and vaulted ceilings, the equipment, about the tea and the blankets in the baskets, about the wonderful people she’d gotten to know.

  She told her about Claude’s over-protectiveness, William’s teasing, Matilda’s wit, Carl’s interminable gossip. She told her about how things had developed with Dan, her night in his home, this morning at the shopping centre and, finally, she told her about tonight. Dan’s complete change of tune and the story about his past she’d been told in Claude’s office.

  When she’d poured it all out and she couldn’t think of anything else to say to prevent the inevitable any longer, Maisy stopped and waited for Harry’s reaction.

  “He’s an idiot.” Harry pronounced, “And you can do better. No, don’t look like that, you can. It’s not your fault he’s been burnt before, why should he get to treat you like that? I get it’s a shit situation, but seriously, screw him.”

  After a long, thoughtful pause Harry added, her eyes wide with curiosity, “What is it you like about it all?”

  Maisy thought about how she’d felt when she’d first met Dan, how thrilling and momentous the smallest touch or command had felt. How much more aware of her body she was when he teased her or flogged her or kissed her sweetly. How strangely peaceful she’d felt over the spanking bench, how protected and complete she’d felt in his bed once she’d recovered from the sub drop afterwards.

  “It’s so much. It’s everything-” She began, reaching for a comparison point in her mind.

  “You know when you’re young and someone holding your hand feels like a declaration of love? Or the way you get a crush on some guy in some one-hit-wonder band and it’s all consuming? Or just the way we felt when we were teenagers in general.”

  Harry raised a cynical eyebrow, but Maisy was just getting into her stride, her eyes still sparkling with moisture, “No really, Harry, listen. You remember being a teenager and full of hormones? We didn’t know whether we wanted to run away from everything or fight the world or fuck or-” Maisy groaned aloud, “I don’t know how to say this. I’ll get there eventually, just humour me, okay?

  Harry waited patiently as she watched her usually eloquent friend scramble for the words to describe something indescribable.

  Maisy was talking faster now, “You know the way music changes you when you’re a teenager? No, it doesn’t change you, that’s not right. You know the way music gets inside your soul when you’re young? The way it speaks to you and makes you feel in ways you can’t explain in your own words yet? The way it gives you a space to put some of the excess feeling you’re doing? All that everything that makes every moment feel so impossibly full?” Harry nodded, not really sure what Maisy was going on about, but loathe to let her stop now she was speaking rather than crying.

  “Remember the way music used to make you feel? You don’t notice when it stops, really, you’re too busy being relieved that living has spaced out a bit. You haven’t had time to grow bored of the spaces between living yet.” Maisy paused again, well aware that she’d stopped making sense a long time ago.

  “Go on,” Harry said, “I won’t laugh.”

  Maisy scoffed, “You probably should.” She tried to find some sense in her jumbled thoughts. She remembered the last time she went out clubbing with Harry and their university friends. How a song had come on and it was the song that spoke to her soul at that moment and she could have wept. She could have wept for who she was last time she felt that way and who she was then on that dance floor and how horribly rare it is to feel like you’re so overflowing with life you need a space to put the excess.

  “That’s how it feels. That’s how D/s feels. Done right, the balance of power and pleasure and pain and all that...muchness, it makes you feel as overflowing as music did when you were young.” She said, tongue thick with the unspeakable nature of the feelings she was trying to express. What she’d begun to feel with Dan, even in its nascent stages, it was incandescent. It was so much more than it seemed.

  “That sounds worth going back for, to me,” Harry said, quietly.

  “To him?” Maisy asked?


  “No, to that place. To the club. He’s not the only Dom in London, is he?”

  He might be, Maisy’s bitter inner voice opined. “No,” she said, “He’s just my first one.”

  “I know, but your first kiss wasn’t your best, you get me?”

  Maisy laughed for the first time since Dan had pushed her away, “You’re not wrong there.”

  “Ryan Wong, right? Over the Easter holidays? Tasted of chocolate?”

  Maisy gaped at her, “How do you remember that?”

  Harry shrugged, “Nearly the same as mine, isn’t it?”

  “You never told me that!” Maisy peered over the cushion she’d been cuddling.

  “You never told me you like whips and handcuffs, but I guessed.”

  “I do not like whips!” Maisy began, then, “Wait, what do you mean you guessed?”

  Harry’s cheeks pinkened, “I might have been borrowing your books. Sometimes. When you’re not in. Sorry.”

  Maisy was far too tired to be cross about the invasion of privacy, “You’re incorrigible. I thought you’d stopped thieving after the empty tea caddy incident.”

  “Not thieving! Borrowing!” Maisy could tell that Harry believed that 100% which was as amusing as it was scary, really.

  “You noticed I’d been sticking to a theme then,” She reluctantly changed the subject back from Harry’s pilfering to her proclivities.

  Harry shrugged, “Yeah, it all went a bit romance and ropes for months and months. Not my thing, really, but I still read them. Pretty hot as a fantasy.”

  Maisy didn’t know what to make of that. “So, you don’t mind then?”

  “Don’t mind what?” Harry looked perplexed, “Oh! That you’re a kinky weirdo? Of course not, you daft sod.”

  It wasn’t that Maisy had been expecting her open-minded friend to shun her, but after the tale she’d heard in Claude’s office she was half expecting some level of rejection from anyone she told about her submissive adventures.

  She leaned into Harry and smiled when her roommate’s arm settled around her shoulder. There was nothing wrong with her or what she’d started to love sharing with Dan. Now, with the tears dry and her heart full, it seemed horribly sad to Maisy that Alicia, however cruel she’d been to Dan, didn’t have anyone like Harry in her life to love her unconditionally.