by Sebastian Ex
“She just did.”
“What the fuck did you do, Daisy?” he screams at her as she comes out in jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers, and carrying her purse and a jacket slung over her arm.
“I di…”
“You speak to me, not her. I told you, she’s no longer working here.” I step in front of the redhead, shielding her from the dick who’s apparently her boss.
“Daisy!” he yells at her as I move her past him, out the front door. “You fucking leave and you’re never to step a damn foot back in here. I swear to God, I will fuck you up if you go,” he continues to yell.
“I told you, you no longer speak to her.”
He comes to stand toe to toe with me. He’s half a head shorter than me, and has a good forty pounds on me.
But I’ve had my fair share of punches, especially when my dad would come home so drunk he’d beat whoever was in his way. First it was Mom, next my older brother Simon, and then it became me. When he tried to move to Justin, I stood up to him. I’d cop the beatings so he’d leave Justin alone. Justin was no older than ten when Dad started in on him. Simon and I were older and we could handle it. Simon would take a beating to protect Mom, and I’d take one to protect Justin.
Until one day, the beatings stopped. Not because Dad chose to change, but because Simon and I banded together and finally took care of our father.
“You have a problem with me taking her, then you speak to me, not her.” I stand to my full height and plant my feet hips-width apart. An icy-cold shiver of authority rips through me. I want him to throw a punch, because I suddenly have an urge to pound into the useless ogre, and take all my frustrations out on him.
I step forward, showing him no weakness. With my step forward, he retreats.
He throws his hands up in defeat and says, “You can have her. I was going to get rid of the bitch anyway.”
I smile and walk away. He’s not worth my energy.
The redhead is waiting by her car, a beat up old piece of shit. “Open the doors, you’re taking me back to the club,” I say as I walk around to the passenger side.
She opens the doors and gets in. She tries starting the heap of shit twice before it actually takes. We drive the half a block to the Onyx Club and she parks in the lot.
As I get out, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Matthew’s number. He picks up on the third ring and he sounds half asleep. “Did I wake you?” I ask as I turn to gesture to the redhead as we walk into the club.
“Ella’s giving me head. What the fuck do you want?”
“I’ve picked up another Diamond.”
“Fuck, little kitten, your mouth feels so good. Take me deep, all the way down.” He pauses, “Another Diamond. Gotchya, do you need me now?”
I shake my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, enjoy your girl.”
He hangs up without even saying anything. Dick.
Leading the redhead past Mike, our doorman, I guide her toward the door that leads upstairs to our offices. “What’s your name?” I finally ask her.
“It’s Daisy,” she says, as she watches the tail-end of the show the girls are performing on stage.
“Welcome to the Onyx Club.”
FIVE
Daisy and I went upstairs to my office, where I had her fill out all the relevant paperwork. We also talked about her eight-year-old son, Jackson.
Jackson, from what Daisy says, should be in a class for gifted children. His IQ is extremely high, but he has trouble adjusting to school and the other kids. I also found out he’s being left behind because Daisy simply doesn’t have the cash to send him to a school which has an accelerated learning program.
It was the early hours, around four when we left the club to go home. Knowing I’d been drinking, I had no intentions on driving home.
“Can you drive me home or do you need to get back to Jackson right away?” I ask as I set the alarm and lock the club’s doors.
“The sitter is usually there until six. I can take you home.”
We both go to her car, and she tries to start it, but it won’t take. She tries three times, and it’s making a ticking sound as she turns the key. Right away I know it’s the alternator and it’ll need replacing. However, I suspect she doesn’t have the cash for it, and even if she did, the car isn’t worth fixing.
I get out of the car and take my phone out of my pocket. Daisy follows and I hear her slamming the door of her car, “Piece of shit, I fucking hate you!” she yells at her car as she kicks the door.
“It’s not the car’s fault. It’s old,” I say as I dial Matthew’s number.
“It’s my fucking ex’s fault,” she says bitterly.
“For fuck sake, can you not go an hour without calling me? You so desperate to hear my voice?” Matthew says in a groggy, sleepy voice.
“Fuck off. Come pick me and Daisy up.”
“Who the fuck is Daisy?”
“The new girl.”
“You serious? What am I, your pimp? Catch a cab and leave me the fuck alone.”
I kick at the dirt and turn to make sure Daisy’s out of hearing shot. “Just get your ass down here, and I’m not interested in fucking her.” My tone is low so she can’t hear me, but enough to let Matthew know I need him down here.
He groans into the phone. I can imagine the shit he’s going to give me once he drops Daisy off at home. “Kitten,” he says softly to Ella. “Kitten,” he says again. I hear a soft moan in the background. “I’m going to get Brandon, I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay, love you,” I barely hear her say.
“I love you too.” The line goes quiet for a few seconds until Matthew says, “You owe me.”
“Whatever.” I know he doesn’t mean it, but he hates being away from Ella so I’ll take a ribbing for it.
He hangs up, and I walk over to Daisy, who’s got her head in her hands, sitting on the side of the road, crying. Sitting beside her, I let her cry.
Something I learned early as a Dominant is sometimes women just need to cry. The tears I usually see are after a scene, a moment when everything is stripped back to its rawest and most natural form. It’s when the woman feels most vulnerable, though paradoxically, it’s also the strongest she’s ever been. It’s when she’s at her most exposed, when she can just let go of everything – her worries, any problems her mind or body has grasped onto, to keep her hostage.
Daisy’s shoulders are shaking. I can tell by how her breathing is deep and intense, she’s crumbling. And right now, she doesn’t needs a firm hand, but a soft shoulder.
It’s not about a sexual connection, because I simply don’t have that with her. What I do know is she’s hurting and she needs someone to lean on, even if it’s only while the tears roll down her cheeks.
I close the space between us, and Daisy automatically turns to lean into me. I wrap my left arm around the top of her shoulders and circle my right arm around her, pulling her into me.
“This is fucked,” she says through ragged breaths.
“I know.” No use in lying. Her life is fucked up. She’s struggling, and right now she doesn’t need the falseness of ‘it’ll be fine’. “It’s going to be a difficult road, but Matthew and I will help.”
A few moments pass with her in my arms, and her crying becomes more of a controlled sob. “Why do you want to help me?” she asks, as she moves her butt away from me and leans back, breaking my hold around her shoulders.
Just by this simple act, her breaking away from me and not staying buried under my protection, she’s showing her strength.
“It’s who we are.”
Daisy knits her eyebrows together, and averts her eyes to her shoes then back to me. “You’re a Dom, aren’t you?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. I’m not into that,” she says quite seriously.
I let out a laugh and stand from the dirty curb. I offer her my hand and she willingly takes it. “And that’s your decision to make.”
“I saw them c
ome into the club sometimes, or I should say, I saw the fake ones come in. They’d be all, ’Call me Sir,’ and, ’You will do as I say,’ but I knew they were dicks, not Doms. I’ve never met a real one before, well, not that I know of.” She dusts her butt off then crosses her arms over her chest in a protective manner.
“A genuine Dom doesn’t need to tell you to call him Sir. And a real submissive understands that. What I saw back at the club, I saw hints of submission in you.”
“We’re told to be cute, ‘cause that’s what guys want.” She eyes me from beneath her eye lashes then quickly averts her gaze to her feet. Her posture changes too. Her shoulders slightly back, her back in a beautiful, straight line.
Yes, she’s a submissive. She just doesn’t realize it.
Matthew’s BMW pulls up along the curb and I open the back door for Daisy. She slides in and I get in the front. “Matthew, Daisy. Daisy, this is Matthew.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Daisy,” Matthew says.
“You too,” she replies, and puts her seat belt on.
“Where do you live?” Matthew asks her.
“Six blocks back the way you came.”
Matthew looks at me sideways; I know that look. Already he doesn’t like the area she lives in.
“Daisy’s car broke down, and I’ve been drinking,” I tell Matthew, as he makes a u-turn and goes back in the direction he came.
“Brandon told me you’re going to be working for us,” Matthew says as he looks in the rear-view mirror at Daisy.
“Yep, and I can’t fucking thank you two enough. I have to say, Matt, Brandon’s already been very good to me.”
I should’ve warned her. “First off, my name is Matthew and no other variation of it. And second, the next time you swear, I’ll pink-slip you. You’re an Onyx Club employee now, therefore, you’ll be representing us everywhere you go. Your mouth is not to use language that can and will embarrass us.”
“Yes, Sir,” she mumbles from the back seat.
Matthew turns to look at me for a quick second. “She doesn’t listen really well, does she?” I smile and shake my head. “Matthew, not anything else,” he says again.
“Sorry,” she pauses and then adds, “Matthew.”
“Great, now we have those two very easy rules established. Direct me to where you live.”
Daisy sits in the back and only speaks to tell Matthew where to turn. When we reach her house, Matthew looks at me again. His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel and his jaw jumps.
“Thank you, I’ll see you both at work tomorrow. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get my car from the parking lot, but I’ll try to do it within the next couple of days.”
“Goodnight, Daisy,” Matthew says.
“Hang on,” I say to Matthew as I get out of the car and walk her to her door. “Here,” I say to Daisy. Taking out my wallet I take two-hundred out and hand it to her. “For Jackson’s field trip.”
She looks at the money, and looks at me. It’s obvious she’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to accept it, but clearly she needs to take it if she wants to send her son on his trip. She lifts her hand slowly, but lets it fall beside her body.
“I can’t,” she says.
I pick her hand up and put it in her palm. “I’ll deduct it from your pay.” I won’t, but just hearing me say I will has automatically calmed her enough to take it.
“Thank you,” she says, her face turning a soft red from humiliation.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turn and leave.
When I get in the car, Matthew looks at me then pulls out of the driveway. “This neighborhood is shit. When was the last time her lawn was mowed, or anyone checked the locks on her doors and windows? And where the fuck did you find her?”
I tell Matthew what happened, from the time I left Velvet Room until we got in his car.
“You’re telling me she’s got a kid and lives there?”
“Yeah.”
“And her ex just wiped her out?”
“Yeah.”
“But her tits are fake. How the hell did she afford them?”
“You noticed, eh? I did ask her while she was filling out the paperwork, and she said her ex made her get them. He said she’d be able to dance at better clubs and earn more money.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s twenty-seven.”
“And her kid?”
“He’s eight.”
Matthew keeps driving toward my house. I live around fifteen minutes from Matthew and Ella’s penthouse. My house is an old Victorian, which I remodeled to convert my den into a playroom. “Now I know why you picked her up.”
“Yeah,” I answer. “It’s a pretty fucked-up situation.”
“And you’re not going to screw her?” He sounds surprised.
“Trust me, I tried. But I can’t get Penny out of my fucking head.”
“You know you’re truly pussy-whipped, right?” Matthew chuckles. “It’s alright, brother. I know the feeling,” he adds. As we drive the rest of the way in silence, I can’t help thinking about Penny and the guy she was with at the club. Matthew pulls up in front of my place. I get out and turn to him. “Don’t man, don’t fucking torture yourself like this. Let it go. She has, now you need to.”
I nod my head, knowing he’s right. I’ve got to move on and forget her.
By the time I walk into my house, it’s nearly five-thirty in the morning. I pull my phone out, scroll through the list of numbers and call Mario, my mechanic.
“It’s not even six and you’re calling me with a car emergency? ‘Cause I know my rent is paid in advance.” He’s not only my mechanic, but he also rents one of the apartments I own.
“I need you down at the club within the next half hour.”
“I can’t imagine any of your cars needing anything fixed so urgently,” he says with a growly, ‘just woke up’ voice.
“There’s a car in the parking lot; it’s an old piece of shit. It needs the alternator changed, and God knows what else.”
“When do you need it fixed by?”
“Yesterday.”
“That gives me a lot of time.” He laughs, half asleep.
I walk down the hall of my home to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “You have until three to get it fixed and delivered to her house.”
He groans, “What’s her address?”
I smile and give him Daisy’s address, knowing her car may be a piece of shit, but at least it’ll be safe for her to drive once Mario’s through with it.
SIX
“Hey,” I say to Matthew, as I walk into his office and sit in his chair. “I’m going to need Ella a couple of extra days this week.”
“Why? It’s not end of month. Between class and downstairs, she’s barely got enough time as it is.” Matthew looks up from his laptop and leans back in his seat.
We sent Ella to accounting courses, we found she had an absolute love for numbers. I’ve trained her in bookkeeping and payroll to help me when I need it. Since we expanded the club, our clientele has increased, requiring more staff.
We’ve been booking solid two months ahead for close to a year now.
“I need her for a few days, I’ve got another building I’m looking at buying. But it’s out of state and it’s the only time I can get there. So I need her to cover in the office.”
Matthew raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ll shuffle the staff around and you can have her. Also, I got a report on how Daisy’s doing in the burlesque lessons we’re sending her to.”
“How’s it going?”
“Rachel said she’s picking it up quickly. She should be ready to work with Tony, to get her ready for the stage in a couple more weeks.” Tony is the choreographer who creates all the dance routines for our girls.
“If anyone can get her ready, it’s Rachel.” Rachel being the dance teacher for all our girls, she knows what we want and molds the dancers to our specifications.
It’s been a week
since we hired Daisy. During the day, when her son is at school, she’s doing three-hour dance lessons with Rachel. She also works as a waitress here from the time we open until we close. She’s still home earlier than she was working in the strip club, and she doesn’t have to suck cock for a shitty fifty bucks.
“Do you have intentions of sitting here all night?” Matthew asks as he goes back to his laptop. Dickhead. Just as I stand and go to the door to leave, there’s a knock. “Come in,” Matthew yells, agitated someone’s interrupted him. Again.
Daisy flings the door open, and she looks like she’s about to be sick. “I have to go,” she half yells at us. “I have to go,” she says again looking between Matthew and myself.
“What the hell is going on, Daisy?” I ask as I grab her by the upper arm and pull her into the office.
“I just had to let you know. I’ve got to go.”
I tighten my fingers around her arm and don’t let go. “You’re not going anywhere the way you are.”
“Jackson was running, fell, and landed on his arm. Jasmine heard a crack, she thinks it’s broken. She’s called an ambulance and he’s been taken to the hospital,” she says as tears streak her cheeks.
“I’ll take you,” I say as I grab my keys out of my pocket.
“It’s okay, I can go by myself,” she says as she looks even more flustered.
“For Christ’s sake, woman,” I snap at her, bringing her back to the present and not the headspace she’s lost in. “Get your bag, I’ll take you.” I don’t give her an option.
“Thank you,” she responds, then runs down the stairs taking them two at a time.
“Hey,” Matthew calls me from beside his huge desk.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get her shifts covered for the next couple of days. She can stay with her son.”
I nod once and leave to find Daisy and take her to the hospital.
By the time we get to the hospital, Daisy’s hysterical and can hardly speak through the tears.
“Daisy Clarke here to see her son, Jackson Clarke,” I say to the triage nurse as I step forward and talk for a blubbering Daisy.
“Is he okay? Can I see him? What’s happening?” she fires at the nurse, who looks bored and slightly agitated.
