“Yo, hey. Boss, we just finished cleaning up that mess in the private bathroom. You need anything else?” Doug pops his head in the door but won’t come past the threshold, his intrusion ripping my thoughts away from the luscious curves that have been haunting me.
“What was it this time?” I grunt without looking up from the stack of papers sprawled on the desk.
“Some fancy new shit called flakka. My buddy downtown was telling me about it. Some psychoactive shit that makes people fuck trees,” Doug nervously informs me while fiddling with the knob.
“Great. It didn’t leak?” I try to curb the harshness of my tone.
“Not that we know of. Caught him back there early, cuffed him, and called it in. No one was seen fucking inanimate objects so I think we are good,” Doug laughs uncomfortably with a toothy grin.
“Brief the waitresses and others on it. Shit like that spreads like wildfire during the holiday party season.”
“Will do, boss. You coming to the dungeon for the Sunday night round up?” Doug attempts to chum it up by appealing to our joint interests.
“Nah, probably not.”
“Seriously? You are not coming to the sub round up? Tits everywhere and not a minute for you to spare?” Doug looks at me like he thinks I might be sick.
“Got a lot of shit to do, man. Being top dog means I actually got to work,” I growl.
“Yeah, sucks to be you, Master Gavin. Subs throwin’ their panties at you left and right. Rough shit.”
“Alright, Doug. I’m sure there is a waitress out there dying to have you take her home.” I let his nervous babbling slide and dismiss him in the nicest way I can. His jabber is clearly a nervous habit to ease his conscience in times of uncertainty or distress. And it’s not like I let my men get too comfortable around me as it were.
“Fuck yeah there is. Cherry has been chompin at the bit. Later, man.” Doug ducks out, whistling a tune that I ignore and get back to work.
After a half hour, I give up and throw in the towel. This is asinine. Here I am, trying to write up my own crap on top of reviewing all the managers’ submitted inventory reports and all I can think about is exploring every inch of Sorcha’s body with my tongue. I bet her pale skin would puff and swell so pretty under the lash of my whip. For the love of all that is holy, what the hell has she done to me? I don’t fucking have time for this bullshit! I scold myself and grab my keys. Enough of this shit.
Chapter 5
Sorcha
After a beer and hot bath, I managed to get some sleep before getting up to work myself into the Elvira costume. Standing to look at the ensemble, a bit of guilt over not being in the studio much this week bites at me. There is one piece I am aching to get my hands on after finding it in the last set of negatives. Pushing my wayward creative brain back under lock and key, I adjust the slit in the front of my dress that comes all the way up and stops at my thigh junction. After ensuring its placement, I move to check the security of the tape holding the plunging front that extends to my belly button in place. After many strips of fashion tape and cleverly designed stick-on bra cups that hold the girls somewhat together, the wig and makeup are the last pieces needed to complete the get-up. Samuel will love this costume!
Daz gives another inspiring pep talk that borders on inappropriate before sending us all to our stations. It doesn’t take long for Samuel to quickly corner me behind the bar as we set up.
“Gavin? Really? What were you thinking?” he scorns with accusation.
“What? No shameless jokes or flirting over my costume to warm me up for the interrogation first?”
Samuel gives me one look that has me blowing out a heavy sigh of defeat.
“I didn’t know who he was when it happened; I’ve never actually met the dude before, remember? He was a real peach at the bar, pissed me off. I opened my mouth, which… is hardly ever good. Went to leave and he followed, veering me to the private rooms and sealing the deal with a wicked kiss that left me putty in his hands. I left shortly after closing time, dismissing his attempts to take me home. He shows up at the bar last night looking less than pleased while I was flirting with the cowboy, like he has claim on me or something.”
“He is laying claim on you. Gavin is not only our head of security, but he is also one of the clubs top Doms and is highly sought after for his discipline. That is how he spends his free time. I can’t believe this. You let him go all ‘Dom’ on you after a split-second conversation and I have spent a year trying to get you in the damn door.” Samuel almost looks hurt, which is hard to pass off in his vampire costume with fake blood dripping down his regal chin.
“Gavin didn’t go ‘all Dom’ on me. There were no mind games, whips, or Saint Andrews crosses.” My black manicured nails nervously tap on the bar, anxious to be done with the inquisition.
“Vanilla sex?”
“I don’t know what the hell it was. He started out in the driver’s seat, but it all got muddied fast. Rough, fast and furious vanilla sex─ multiple times─ is a better description.”
“No shit? Never thought he could get down like that after seeing the way he works.” Samuel looks thoughtful for a moment in his set of fake fangs.
“What does that mean?”
“Like I said, ‘highly sought after for his discipline.’ Top of his game and many want to suffer at his expert hand. Dude is on the sadistic side, Sor. You are not a masochist─ you are submissive to the core─ but I don’t see this being a very good match for either of you.”
“What don’t you and he understand? There is no ‘match’ taking place. One-night stand with a playboy, whoop-de-doo.” I hated the words at they tumbled forward, and choking momentarily on their bitter taste. Running a finger under my black velvet spider choker, I try to get my anxiety under control.
“Customers are coming. If he actually showed his face here last night, he’s on a mission and it has nothing to do with security around this place,” Samuel warns and puts on a fake smile, which looks ridiculous with his temporary teeth.
The midnight hour strikes and I find myself in the same damn predicament as last night.
“Gentleman, is this Groundhog Day? What can I get you?” What are the chances? Tobias and Gavin size each other up discreetly before turning their attention back to me.
“Nice costume. You look mighty fine, Miss L. I’ll take a shot of that top-shelf whiskey and a beer.”
Ignoring Gavin, I busy about but find my long dress is getting in the way of my attempts to reach the whiskey. Tobias’ order is no doubt intentional and Gavin has me feeling spiteful, so naturally, I hike the slit of my dress to the side baring my full leg as I prop it on the stool and salaciously grab the bottle before easing back down and finishing his order.
Tobias licks his lips as his eyes lock on the breasts in front of him. He doesn’t even notice the drinks I have pushed his way. Gavin’s tanned skin turns a shade darker as he watches it unfold. Sashaying to the other side of Tobias, opposite of Gavin, I take and fill a few more orders, pointedly ignoring the brooding Dom. After a good twenty minutes, thinking he has finally had enough, I lean over the bar, breasts threatening to break free of their confines so that he can hear me clearly.
“I am not allowed to serve alcohol to employees. Can I get you a club soda or something?” My tone snips with an all-too-sticky-sweetness as I drawl out the work- related title.
“Off duty, girl. You can make me a backdraft.” He over annunciates, clearly disgruntled with my complete disrespect.
“Of course, Sir,” I sass back and narrowing my eyes at him. My anger and tension in regards to his backhanded methods of invading my privacy only fuel my display. As I flip a bottle behind my back without taking my eyes off his, my nimble fingers catch it perfectly. Lining up ten shot glasses, I double stack my mixing cylinders after strategically filling them with various liquors and pour from the inside out with flawless aim, filling the shot glasses and ending with my arms wide to set the cylinders down, breasts thr
eatening to dip into the freshly filled vessels. Straightening up, I dust cinnamon across the tops and line myself up at one end. Taking out our box of extra-long matches and lighting one, I hold it in one hand as my lips find a thimble full of vodka. Bending suggestively in front of Tobias, cleavage aimed at Gavin, match dipped in front of the line of drinks, one forceful spritz of vodka from my mouth sends a line of fire down the bar. As I raise my arms like a witch, the cinnamon dusts out for an extra crackle and effect, earning me applause from those crowded around the bar.
“Your drinks, sir.” He wanted a backdraft, and I sure as hell gave him one, whether he ordered a line of shots or not as the case were.
Multiple emotions flicker over Gavin’s face before he settles on a fake smile for the sake of the crowd, obviously not happy about his inflated order. Being the good sport that he is, he stands to blow out the line of fire. Gavin passes a few of the shots out, and even offers one to Tobias before slamming the last three in front of him, earning the devious and sexy-as-fuck male a pat on the back by a fellow barstool mate and way more attention than he is clearly comfortable with. Excellent.
Slipping away from his scornful glare to attend to another group of patrons, the heat of his stare on my backend is sizzling. After dazzling the guests with a few smaller tricks and flames, including a brain hemorrhage and my signature flaming candy corn shot, one of the VIP waitresses, Carolyn, waves me down in her barely existent naughty schoolgirl outfit.
“The gentleman ordered a body shot off me; Daz allows those up here, right? He’s super hot and I need the money.” She cuts her eyes to Gavin, who is still fixated on me, strategically waiting for a reaction.
Smiling wide with a delicious rebuttal in mind, I nod and begin to shoo people from the bar and wipe it down. Z takes the signal and opens the locked door for Carolyn to enter. Helping her stand on one end of the bar, he holds her hand has he parades her down the counter to lie in front of Gavin. The crowd packs in even tighter to watch like flies on a turd. That is the thing about people with money, they can be just as human and subject to flaws like the rest of us. In this case, rubbernecking the impending train wreck.
“Black label, please.” Gavin grins, pleased with himself.
“Certainly.” Dismissing the urge to purse my black lips, I set the glasses down on the lower part of the shelf and pour three shots of Johnny Walker Black. Taking advantage of his distracted state, I sneak a drop of ghost pepper juice in the last glass as he chats up the nervous waitress with his seductive and silky smooth timbre. As his large hand comes to rest on hers in a calming attempt, her shoulders notably relax.
“Ready, Carolyn?” I check with her before I begin. She gives me a nod of approval, Gavin’s charm having calmed her anxiety perfectly. Fucker.
After balancing one glass on her pelvic bone, another on her navel, and a third for her lips to hold, Gavin rises to begin. When I tsk-tsk him and wag a finger, he pauses and raises an eyebrow, searching me for any sign of a rise. Not wanting to give him the benefit, out comes the whip cream and I add a path to connect all the glasses. Carolyn begins to shake, surprised by the addition, and Gavin once more places an expert hand on her arm to calm her, which works again.
Yes, those hands are definitely magic, I remember vividly. The air hums with excitement as he places his arms behind his back and picks up the first glass, which rests on her lower region, with his mouth and shoots it back before placing it on the bar without ever using his hands. Yes, that mouth was quite talented. Heat flares through my veins as memories dance in front of my eyes. His fellow inebriated friends seem to wait with baited breath as he begins to dance his tongue up the trail, lapping the whip cream in a manner that makes several of the women standing near blush and nervously look away. This should be the part where my one-eyed green monster rears her ugly head, but pending reprisal spurs on my fascination with what is emerging. My eyes never leave the scene, a giggle bubbling below the surface, waiting to explode. Oh, he may make my panties wet but this will teach him not to fuck with me.
To distract myself from the need to bust at the stiches, I cheer him on. Tobias, friendly from the booze, chants him on as well. The navel shot goes just as smoothly and his next scandalous move up the whip cream has my nipples hardening. Jesus, I hope they are not protruding through the stick-on bra and thin dress barely cladding my frame.
As he comes to the last glass, bursts of encouragement sound out over the foggy, palpable air. Flashing, glow-in-the-dark lights from the haunted décor light the moment. Wrapping his mouth around the glass and tilting it back in one swift movement, he freezes as the burning liquid registers down the back of this throat. Removing his hands from behind his back, he throws his arms up in triumph, further bolstering the crowd’s love of him. His cheeks darken as he strains to hold face in front of his adoring audience. The power of the ghost pepper starts to take over and I hold up the can of whip cream in suggestion. He turns his burning, bordering deadly, whiskey-colored gaze on me full blast, making me brace in fear. Oh shit, he is not happy. He leans into the counter and opens his mouth and I oblige by filling it with the sweet cream. Gavin swallows with a knowing nod my way and hops to helping Carolyn off the bar, laughing and shamelessly flirting the entire time. While he is distracted, Tobias takes the opportunity and edges in closer.
“L, I am going to head out. Can I interest you in any digits? Same place,” he offers, downplaying the proposition of his room number.
Looking up with doe eyes and leaning in closer, I whisper in his ear. “Tobias, Tobias. We have had this talk. However, you were mighty fun,” my contemplative tone draws out false hope, which is etched all over his handsome mug.
“We could have more.”
“Perhaps. Tonight is going to be a long one. Do what you want, but understand that I am not making any promises.” I wink and leave it open on purpose, if the tension between Gavin and me continues at this rate, I may need to ride Tobias hard in order to get my wits back about me.
“I understand. Ya gotta make a livin too. Good night, Miss L.” He dismisses himself with all the southern manners one could ever hope for from a man these days.
“Good night, Tobias.” As he leaves, I sneak a peek at his napkin and the digits scribbled on there. Tucking the napkin and glass below the bar, Gavin appears from nowhere and meets me head-on, wiping the smile playing on my lips clear off with one look that sends shivers down my spine.
“Arranging plans for this evening already?” he challenges, clearly feeling territorial.
“Sir, that is a bit direct for someone to be asking a staff member and quite frankly, none of your concern,” I counter.
“But it is my concern. Your safety, that is,” he attempts to cover.
“Off these premises, my safety or anything else regarding my person, is none of your concern. Sir, don’t you have some special clients to be attending to yourself this very busy evening?” Yes, I just went there. His face falters before promptly returning to its previous glare.
“Now, why would my business be of concern to you? You wouldn’t be interested in my line of side work, would you?” His head cocks in an almost wishful manner.
“One good inquiry deserves another, that’s all.” I unattractively snort.
“And yet, neither of us seems satisfied.”
God, that truth had a double lining. “Correct, I am not satisfied. Your line of work troubles me, especially how you walk a thin line of what is appropriate and what is not.”
“Are we discussing my business or how I like to spend my free time?”
“Business, of course. Quite honestly, I have no interest in your free time, who or what you do it with. What I am concerned about is what affect my after-hours play might have on my current place of employment.” That should get the matter at hand out and on the table and far away from sex.
“That depends; do you have something to hide?”
He truly is a bastard. Part of me wants to slap his hard-lined jaw, and another p
art wants to rip that black, silk button-down straight off.
“You know everything there is to know about me as it is, don’t you? Vetting employees for employment gives you quite the volume of information.” Daz’s background checks were a bit intrusive; we all signed the waiver agreeing to it. His rationale was that he didn’t want his clientele to become mixed up with anyone that could be looking for trouble. He implemented it after a waitress intentionally tried to extort a member with incriminating photos of her giving him a blow job. The situation was handled in a manner that did not involve the authorities, but with men like Gavin around, I am not surprised.
“I don’t know everything,” he feigns in exasperation.
“Nothing else to know. Now, if you will excuse me, many a thirsty palates await.”
Thankfully, he takes the hint and fades back into the crowd. Hopefully, it is to go nurse his burned gullet. Hank, God bless him, is the one to see me to a cab. With no Tobias or Gavin in sight, my tired body gratefully finds its way back to the homestead.
After a long shower and wrapping up in my favorite chenille robe, I find a beer and sit down to watch some recorded shows before planning on turning in. The mindless droning of TV does a mind good after a stressful night like tonight. Halfway through a Grey’s Anatomy re-run, my intercom buzzes, scaring the crap out of me and making me almost spill my beer. It is four AM! Who─ wait. Getting up to answer the buzzer, I try to collect my nerves. Without asking who it is, I fire off, intuition telling me everything that I needed to know.
Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 7
