by Alice Moore
“Wai- woah- hang on there…” Waving my hand, as if it made a difference, I gulped down the frog in my throat as my heart beat harder. Sasha met my gaze coolly, but the heat that spread across my cheeks wouldn’t be doused. “You’re saying that you’re going to compensate me for losses I might not even sustain? So, I could increase my profit margin and you’d still pay me, no strings attached? That’s basically free money…”
Carefully setting the folder and the paper on my desk, Sasha sighed softly as skepticism raced through my veins. My mind whirled, trying to keep up with what she said and what it meant.
“As stated in your compensation form, you’ll be compensated until your profit margins exceed 27%... but yes, essentially. Your bakery has been growing at a rate of 1.45% per month, so I don’t see you breaching the maximum allotted percent before construction is scheduled to end. Based on this, you’ll be receiving a compensated amount of 13.33% starting at the beginning of the month and so on until we’re finished remodeling.” Blinking slowly, I tried to follow all that math before Sasha offered me a bright smile. “I mean, on top of your profit growth, you’ll be receiving 13% increased cash flow… no strings attached. It’s yours to do with what you wish, Natalie. No one is going to come back to collect it. It’s not a loan.”
“Ehm… okay… so then you really don’t need my opinion, you just want to make sure I don’t get fed up about the interruption and start making a fuss…” Speaking slowly, I rolled the idea over my tongue with a slight shake of my head. “How long will this last?”
“We’re estimating 8 months for everything, but we’re going to be paving and remodeling first, which shouldn’t take more than 3. Your compensation contract is for the project in its entirety.” Sasha ignored everything I had said but my question, and I frowned deeply. Her bright gaze sharpened with impatience as the silence wore on, but she didn’t try to rush me. Mulling over what she’d said, I weighed my options as best I could.
Owning a bakery in a city like this, with very few novelty shops like mine, was a crazy gamble that had paid off. I had regulars in just these past six months or so; people detoured specifically to come to my bakery. Surely three months of hardship wasn’t going to deter my customers?
“Cool. Okay. When is this supposed to start?” Snatching the contract from my desk, I busied myself with reading as the tension instantly slipped from the atmosphere. Just like my father said- never sign anything without reading it thoroughly first. Shrewdly appraising the thin piece of paper, my frown smoothened out at the details presented.
At least Sasha didn’t go off giving misinformation to make an already attractive offer seem like a once in a lifetime amazing opportunity.
“We’ll be starting in two weeks if all of our current tenants agree.” Nodding absently, I rolled my lower lip between my teeth as I thought. Everything looked right on paper; everything sounded right when spoken. This was a great deal considering most owners hike up the rent to cover the construction costs they incur.
“Okay.” Grabbing a pen, I carefully wrote my signature at the bottom of the page, resigned to the fact that this was the easiest way to go. Passing the sheet to Sasha, I heaved a sigh as she slipped it back into her folder and then into her briefcase. She didn’t offer me her hand to shake, but her mega-watt smile was once again shining at me. Resisting the urge to frown, I couldn’t help but think I’d just made a huge mistake.
“Great! I’ll be sending you a copy of the contract for your records. So, we’re all done here. I’ll let you get back to your bakery, but I will be coming back in a month and a half or so to check on you and the other tenants.” Walking Sasha to the door, I held back a groan at the idea that she’d be back. She was just so perfect- as a woman it was hard to ignore how much more posh she appeared than I was.
God- Natalia… talk about a blow to my fragile self-esteem.
Once I was alone in my office, I glanced down to glare at my stressed, much too used jeans and bleached white t-shirt. The fabric used to be a grayish blur color, hanging off my shoulders stiffly; now it was just a sad reminder of how expensive it was to own a business.
“Fuck.” Blowing out a hot breath, I shook my head hard before gathering up my unruly, brown hair. Absently rolling the mass into a bun, my fingers ached lightly from misuse. Lowering them, I stared at my palms to contemplate the difference between typing and baking.
“Natalie! I closed up and I’m clocking out! See you tomorrow!” Brena’s call was chirpy, like a bird, and I wandered back to my desk to lock my computer and put away my files. Cleaning was a slow process; one I despised with a passion but still needed to be done. My body moved robotically while my mind pondered what this construction project would mean for my business.
In no way whatsoever was I located in a bad area, and my bakery was growing at a rate I hadn’t expected. I spent a lot of time choosing the perfect location. The busy causeways that split the city in two had a clear view of this plaza, and the entrances were easy to traverse. Even the sidewalks were bright and free of cracks, and there wasn’t a terrible amount of walking to get from one plaza to another.
But no one wants to deal with construction smells, or noise, or that stupid man that sits in the street and directs traffic. No matter how nice the area, construction almost always meant a sharp drop in business. Grimacing at the thought, I took a deep breath and shut the drawer to twist the key.
“They better plant some flowers or something in front of my bakery.” Grumbling to myself, I grabbed my bag and made my way to the door, flicking off the lights as I went. “And who says bakers are always bubbly, overly happy, overly excited human versions of puppies…”
Beyond the hallway that led to my office was where the magic happened, and I smiled as I took in the still, industrial sized mixers and empty baking racks. The air was thick with the smell of sugar, chocolate, and peanut butter. Glancing at the walk-in refrigerator doors, I pictured the multitudes of doughy concoctions that were waiting until the right moment to get put into the oven.
Rounding the large, glass display cases, I stood amongst tables and chairs to stare at my handiwork. My chest tightened, knowing I was finally achieving what I had worked so hard for. Three confectionary schools, a business school, and $700 grand in debt was paying off at last.
Beneath my feet the pale pink tiles muffled the sound of my footfall, and I brushed my palm over the back of a delicately carved chair. Closing my eyes, I let the memories of buying them flood my mind’s eye. The sets had been such a steal, with 20 chairs and four tables that didn’t have a grain different than the rest. I’d bought them at an auction, my one and only, along with the display cases and a cute specials board.
“My one, true love! Good bargains!” Smiling at my own joke, I opened my eyes to scan my bakery one last time. “I’m never going to let you go.”
Locking the door behind me, I glanced over at the shop only two blocks from mine. A sign advertised their sale, two for one on all panties and bras. Wandering closer, I nibbled my bottom lip absently as I debated actually going into the shop. They sold much more than just lingerie, after all; it was a major reason I hadn’t breached the threshold.
The display window showcased a variety of handcuffs, from regular metal ones to fluffy ones to ones made of leather. Above them on small shelves were an assortment of ball gags, and even higher still were whips that hung attractively from hooks. Staring at the assortment, I pursed my lips together as curiosity slowly but surely overtook me.
A soft bell chimed when I found the courage to open the door, and the shop’s bright, fluorescent lights warmed the crown of my head. Racks of lingerie were organized by color to my left, and to my right were all of the accessories a person might need. Standing there stupidly, I flexed my hands against my bag straps before a pretty associate bounced towards me.
“Hello and welcome! I’m Lillian- do you need help finding anything?” Lillian spoke with a high, happy voice, her breasts jiggling as they strained her l
ow, v-neck shirt. Gulping down my nerves, I offered a shaky smile as she watched me expectantly with bright hazel eyes.
“Ah- actually, I’m not sure what I should be finding. I’ve never been in a store like this…” I wondered if she got many customers like me as Lillian nodded a bop of her head. She was so cute, with a little button nose and slim cheeks, that it almost looked out of place. Heat suffused my face at the notion that I had expectations about a shop like this, and she smiled knowingly before offering me a response.
“I get it. So, did you just want to look at lingerie or are you more interested in what else we have to offer?” Licking my lips, I glanced around before my gaze landed on the right side. There were objects I couldn’t even name- ones I had never seen before- and my heart fluttered in my chest.
“I guess your other stuff?” My face flamed at how dumb I sounded, and Lillian let out a little giggle before gesturing me to follow her.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. So, some of the basic stuffs are handcuffs, whips, ropes- stuff like that. Pretty self-explanatory. This is really the kind of shop that masters like to come to when they need to replace old equipment.” Leading me to a stand of fuzzy handcuffs, Lillian carefully extracted one to hold up with her thumbs. “There are several versions of pretty much everything. If pain isn’t really your or your master’s style, you can use these. We also have thick, metal ones for that extra bite.”
“Oh.” Lillian furrowed her brows at my noncommittal response, hanging the cuffs back to scan me from head to toe. Crossing her arms over her generous bust, she hummed softly before opening her mouth again. Discomfort slithered up my throat, and my mind whirled trying to follow what she’d already revealed.
This was like talking to someone in a language I didn’t really know.
“You know, we have a sort of expo for anyone wanting to learn about this stuff. Some people are really dissatisfied with their sex life, and they don’t know why. It’s just a matter of finding out- you’ll never know unless you try sort of thing. I can give you the address and time of the next class, if you want.” Blinking slowly, I took a moment to reflect on what Lillian had said.
Dissatisfied with my sex life? Check.
There wasn’t really much more to think about, and I nodded with a sheepish smile.
“Please. I’m not sure if this is my kind of thing, but there’s no hurt in trying, right? Do I have to pay or anything?” At my question Lillian shook her head, turning to lead me to the cash registers. Hanging on busts above the back wall were leather masks, and I stared at them with wide eyes as she rounded the counter.
“Nope- it’s free. It’s really for men and women that want to know more. No one is going to tie you up. Most of the time you just talk, maybe participate in a demonstration. The doms that teach there have that particular kink, or maybe they’re looking for a new sub. Sometimes it’s even vice versa- a person that’s very dominate will find a sub in one of the attendees. Anyway, you don’t even have to use your real name when you sign in. So, here’s the address. It’s next Friday at 4p.m., and we have them every other week. It’s always the same day and time if you can’t make this one.”
Passing me a piece of stationary, Lillian smiled again as I took it in unstable fingers. The street address was unknown to me; I’d have to use GPS to find it. Waving the paper lightly, I walked as fast as I dared back towards the door to scurry to my car, clutching it tightly in my fist.
Chapter Two:Natalie
“Well, what do you think? How do I even dress for this kind of thing?” Groaning at myself in the mirror, I picked at my high waisted shorts with a grimace. “God, help me.”
Fluffing my dark green blouse, I smoothed the silk fabric as anxiety buzzed through me. I had spent an hour choosing this outfit, but now that it was on me regret was starting to cloud my mind. The clerk from the novelty shop hadn’t said anything about a dress code. Hell, she didn’t even tell me what, exactly, was going to be happening tonight.
But I left work early, so I have to go. I can’t not go. I’m so screwed- holy shit…
“Fuck it!” Turning away from the mirror, I ran my hand through my straightened hair before snatching my bag off the foot of my bed. It’d taken me longer to tackle my mane than it had to pick something to wear, and I was almost out of time. Fishing out my phone, I made sure it was charged before stomping out of my bedroom.
My flat wasn’t large, but it still took longer than necessary for me to exit it. Glancing down the hallway, I took a deep breath at the emptiness that met me. The perks of living with a bunch of old people.
“Just relax, Natalie- it’s noncommittal. There’s no harm in checking it out. I probably won’t even like it, and I can leave without feeling bad. Being a stereotypical baker with a dark secret…” Mumbling to myself on the way down from the second floor, I shook my head before a sharp ping sounded. Emerging in the lobby, my gaze instantly settled on the little, older than dirt lady that was always sitting on her handicap chair. She didn’t notice me, her own eyes trained on the door as if she was waiting for her dead husband to walk through them at any moment.
It was sad, really, and I was as quiet as I could be as I snuck out. Her faded blue eyes didn’t even register me, her white, wispy curls clinging to a face that was too wrinkled to show emotion. Rumor in the building was that her family was just waiting for her to die, so none of them ever visited.
I really didn’t want to end up like her, but she was a nice distraction until I made it to my car in the small lot next to the complex.
“… This has to be the place. I’m going to literally smash my face into my car if it’s not.” My anxiety built up with each command my GPS gave me, and I sat in my car to stare at the ordinary looking, typical suburban house. Peering through the passenger window, I made sure I had the address right before finally turning off my car. Lights poured through the curtains, illuminating what must’ve been every room- and the bodies that mingled inside them.
“Talk about an insane electric bill…” Hoisting myself out of my small, silver two-door, I grumbled to myself to ease some of my nerves. Dropping my keys into my bag, I smoothed down my shirt for the millionth time before rounding my car. The walkway was lined with small, purple flowers that were still blossoming under the early evening sun. My low heels clicked lightly against the concrete, and I held my breath as the beautiful, oak and glass front door came closer.
“This is it. No turning back.” Knocking gently, I tensed when the door almost instantly opened. Staring with wide eyes, I looked up at the broad-shouldered man that met me, his form hidden behind a simply, dark gray button down. A black mask covered his entire face but his mouth, and my heart pounded against my ribs at the small smile he shot me.
“Hello. Are you here for the seminar?” His voice was silky smooth and a little rough, and I nodded dumbly as my tongue failed me. Stepping to the side, he gestured me into the house with a grand sweep of his arm. “Come on in. We’re just about to get started with the generalized portion of our night.”
My body moved without thought, stepping over the threshold, and I tore my gaze from the man to look around the entryway. The room was rather large, but there was nothing in it but a wall holding yet more masks. Each one was black, their styles ranging from what was easily discernable as masculine to feminine.
“Please pick one. You’ll be required to wear it at all times, and you can take it when you leave.” Scanning the ceiling to floor display, I flexed my fingers until one mask stood out to me. It would cover my whole face, minus my jaw and mouth, but it wasn’t molded plastic like the others. Instead, the mask was made of silk, with delicate swirls that looked suspiciously like cupcake icing swirls. Ribbons would keep it in place, and I reached for the delicate piece before turning to the man watching me.
“Nice choice.” Still smiling, he took the lace fabric from my fingers and gestured for me to turn. My breathing shallowed, heart hammering against its cage as he carefully fi
tted the mask to my face. “Please let me know if it doesn’t fit well.”
With practiced hands he held up the mask and worked on the ribbons, and I held my breath as the fabric molded to my features. The fit was perfect, soft against my skin, and I pursed my lips together. Carefully pulling the top ribbon along the length of my crown, he tied it off before grunting softly.
“It fits perfectly- thank you.” Before I could twist around the man leaned along my side, popping open the door that led to the house. Low music instantly pumped up from under me, and adrenaline surged through me. People mulled everywhere, and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I scanned them. Relief meshed with everything else swirling inside me at the casualwear around me.
Anonymous eyes flickered to me as I slowly walked deeper into the house, and goosebumps washed my arms and across my chest. Most people wore black masks, but others wore red ones of varying sizes. My mind was blank in the face of so many faceless people, and I slipped behind a slim woman in a sundress to stand in a corner.
Peeking around from my spot, the noise of conversation floated in one ear and out the other. There was too much to see, to hear, to really focus on anything. Energy buzzed along my skin, and I crossed my arms under my bust to take it all in.
“It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?” Jumping at the deep, smooth voice that sounded behind me, I twisted to stare at a red masked face. An inviting smile tilted his lips, and heat crept up my neck as I nodded silently. “They’re going to start the generalized seminar in a few minutes. Would you like me to escort you?”
“Sure… okay… thank you.” Dark, dusky brown eyes lit up, and an unsteady smile picked up the corners of my mouth. For a moment I only stared at him, quietly assessing his soft features and stocky build. He was only a few inches taller than my own 5’5” height, his frame hidden by a starched button down and plain, serviceable jeans.
