Finding Jaime (8 page)

Madame gets out of her seat and hands me a document and puts an
X
where I need to sign my real name. The rules state what I’ve already been told, and I notice a paragraph about the ‘rooms’, but I doubt I’d have any need for those. I pick up the pen and sign my life away.

Madame hands me a black credit-card-style membership card with ‘House’ in gold leaf writing and a white border. I turn it over to find a chip embedded in the plastic.

“Press your card against the doorknob and it’ll open for you,” she explains. “Then Bear doesn’t have to leave his station.”

She presses the button on her desk, and it’s a few seconds before Fuchsia walks in. My eyes bulge at her attire. Her legs are covered to mid-thigh in fishnet stockings with a simple black band, hooked by black suspenders that disappear under a stunning black and gold mini skirt. The detailing is intricate, with the metallic gold swirls embroidered into the matt fabric. Her gold halter top exposes her small but pert cleavage, and her hair isn’t blonde, but a shocking white pixie cut brushed towards her face.

“Wow.” I’m still gawking at her with my mouth open.

Her smile stretches across her face, and her tan skin darkens on her cheeks. “It’s nice to see you again, Bunny,” she says coolly, but I can see her blush, even with her mask. “I have your locker ready. Please follow me.”

I follow Fuchsia to another room, right next to the one where Bear disappeared. The lights are dim but bright enough for me to see the rows of lockers in the same steel as the front door, and each locker has an emblem and name. I walk over to the one Fuchsia points to, and I notice the small blue rabbit on the front with 'Bunny' in shiny silver letters.

“The code to the main door is your safe combination,” she says, and I enter the digits. There is a click sound, the door opens, and I find a small keypad on the inside of the door. “Change your code and keep it to yourself,” she adds, and I follow the simple instructions.
 

5677. Yeah, I know it’s not very secure, but it’s the one that immediately comes to mind. And who would know that anyway? Nobody knows me here, not even Butterfly.
 

I hope she’s here. The thoughts drive me insane again. What the fuck is so wrong with me that I’m thinking of two women and zero men? I hear my mom’s voice, and I drop my head as my heart sinks.

I was in middle school when I’d hung out with a group of girls, and I’d spoken about one of them a little too much for my mom’s liking. Then she’d change the subject to boys. She would say “oh, but I bet she gets a lot of boys asking her out. Have you been asked out by anybody?” And if I told her I had, she would light up like a Christmas tree and tell me how wonderful it was, and that she could chaperone if I wanted. I never understood why my own mother encouraged me to date when my friend’s parents were trying to stop them going out. I was only thirteen for fuck’s sake, and my mom was already picking out cutesy outfits for me like I was some sort of pretty princess project. My dad never intervened, probably because he was too busy keeping the peace to step in and tell my mom to back the fuck off.

It had carried on and on over the years, and I’d felt so pushed into the whole girl-meets-boy thing that I went with it. Of course, I got to college, and then sex happened. It was nasty as hell and hurt like a son of a bitch, but I felt like I had to—like I would somehow make my mom happy if I did. I never listened to the seven-year-old trapped inside me telling me that it was all bullshit.

I snap out of it and place my jacket and purse in the locker and shut the door. And I already know giving me a bar tab is completely insane. “Now what?”

“Now you party,” Fuchsia grins and leads me out towards the main room. “There’s still so much you don’t know about the club, but I’m sure you’ll pick it up as you go along.” She winks at me and leaves me to go through alone.

Most of the booths are occupied, and the center of the room is filled with more people than last night. I wonder what’s happening and images of what I witnessed flash through my mind. I’m about to slink off into a hiding place somewhere when a woman wearing a hot-pink mask—complete with feathers of the same shade and some darker—steps up onto a make-shift stage, right in the middle of the gathering crowd. Her barely-there skirt and heavily cropped tank match her mask down to the shade. Her curves rival Madame’s, though her brunette curls are tied at either side of her head.

“Hi, everybody!” she chirps with a high tone. “Some of you know me already, but for those who don’t, may name is Cerise.” She bends her left arm and holds her hand, palm down, underneath her mask. “Tonight, I’ll be tying up my talented and beautiful friend, Lily.”

Another woman joins her on the stage—to the crowd’s applause—dressed in a matching outfit, but in white and pale yellow. She’s curvier than Cerise, and her boobs look just about ready to burst out of her tank. I smirk, hoping that she lifts her arms fast enough to see if she flashes everyone. Not that I want to peak—okay, maybe, but I haven’t seen any mamas that big, mine included.

I let my eyes scan around the room for Butterfly, but I don’t see her. She hasn’t brought in whatever Cerise is going to use, and I stare at the archway.

“First, Lily will put her arms together like so…” Cerise begins, and I watch as she explains the intricate bindings she’s making up Lily’s forearms.

As she works on her upper arms, I can’t help but wonder if it hurts having your arms bound behind your back like that. When Lily turns her back to the other side of the crowd to show everybody, I can’t help but notice her tits. Her round nipples are poking out the front of her tank, and the expression on her face shows she likes being tied up this way.
 

I can imagine it to be terrifying to have my control taken away like that. It’s not for me, so I make my way through the bodies and the archway.

Chapter 7

“Hey, could I have a beer, please?” I ask the same bartender from yesterday. The open tab is probably going to be the death of me, but I’ll suffer it just so I don’t have to walk around with my purse.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a gruff voice says from beside me before I can take a sip from the bottle. “Nice outfit.”

 
A man in light jeans and white T-shirt is violating me with his eyes, and I glare at him. “Having fun?” I ask when he doesn’t look away.

He grins and nods slowly while licking his lips. “Can I touch you?”

What? Not even a lame ass pick-up line before trying it on?
I snort loudly and laugh in his face. “No”—I turn back to the bar—“you cannot!”

“Hey, come on,” he says in a honeyed tone. “We’re all here for fun.” He moves closer, and I can smell his pungent cologne that smells like a mixture of alcohol and pepper. “Just your tits, I promise.”

I spin towards him, rage building deep inside and adrenaline pumping through my veins. “How about I touch you with my foot, as hard as I can, right in your balls?”

Instead of the usual reaction I get from my mouthiness, I’m surprised when he throws his head back, and belly laughs.
 

What the fuck?

“Good girl,” he says, wiping his thumb under his mask.
 

“Uh, thanks, I think,” I reply, and wonder what he’s been taking.

“Don’t worry, Bunny, I wasn’t trying to hit on you.” He beckons to the bartender, and he brings over another beer. “Even though you’re sexy as fuck, we’re not tasteless assholes in here. We know our boundaries, and we’d never ask that so soon after meeting for the first time.”

“How did you know my name?”

He grins again. “Madame told me about you, and she was right—you’re awesome.” I continue to glare at him until he elaborates. “I’m Fido, the bar manager.” He holds his hand out and, though reluctant, I shake it.

“Fido. Isn’t that a dog’s name?” I ask, and then cringe.
Filter Jaime!

He chuckles again. “I like my women to take the lead, so to speak.” He winks as though I’m supposed to know what that means.

“Uh, okay.”

“It means I occasionally wear a leash, Bunny. I like it when a woman dominates me in that way.”

My eyes widen and an image of him being led around North Park Central on his hands and knees like an animal has me clamping my jaw shut. My ignorance isn’t lost on him when he clinks our bottles together and takes a long draw from his bottle.

“I’m sorry,” I rush out. “I…this is all new to me, but I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

“That’s all we ask, Bunny,” he says and hops off his stool. “If you can release yourself from the forced opinions of society, then you’ll be free.” He turns to walk away.

“Free from what?” I call out, and he looks over his shoulder.

“Free to be who
you
are, not who others say you should be.”

I sit my ass back down and wonder what the hell he’s talking about.
Of course, I’m myself, who else would I be?
Sure, I can be loud, have a mouth like a sailor
and
not give a fuck about it, but there’s something in his words that hit me square in the chest. Hard enough to burn like hell, and I don’t know how to put out the fire.

“Hello, Bunny, welcome back.”

I recognize that voice; it’s the one I’ve been waiting for. I turn to the sound and I smile when I see Butterfly sitting on the stool next to me.
 

“Hey, Butterfly,” I say, breathlessly, and I try to cover up my nervousness.

Her hair is tied back off her face, and I let my eyes fall over her body. A lilac bolero covers her shoulders and fastens at the neck—oriental style. Her dress is black with lilac ribbons running vertically around the body of the bodice, with the same colors in a lace trim over the neckline that’s curved over her mounds—a bow in the center—securing them in place. The layers of netting in her skirt fan out over her thighs from under the same colors as the top. Her legs are bare, with black shoes with small lilac bows on the front. My heart’s racing and I begin to feel the prickles over my skin as heat surges down south into my center. I want to ask her something, but the voice of another woman tells me I’m wrong, that I shouldn’t.

A glass appears in front of her, and she takes a sip from the straw, and I stare at her mouth as she drinks, then her throat as she swallows.

“Have you been here long?” she asks, and I blink back to consciousness.

“About an hour,” I reply, and reach for my third drink.

“See anything interesting?” she asks, and I see the corners of her gloss covered lips turn up. “I bet you have.”

“Well,” I say, blowing out my breath. “Cerise tied Lily’s arms behind her back in a way I never thought possible. Oh, and Fido came onto me as a joke, and I threatened to kick him in the nutsack.” I shrug a shoulder and raise an eyebrow.
My bad!

Butterfly giggles and the sensation in my chest that Fido caused begins to fizzle out. She signals for two more drinks and Fidel brings them over.
 

“It’s a good thing you didn’t, my mom wouldn’t have liked that very much.” She tips her head towards the place where we sat last night, and I follow. “What else did he say to you?”

We sit close together in the darkened corner, and I tell her the conversation, and she chews her lip as I speak.
 

“He’s a smart man, Bunny. He said almost the same thing to me.”

I narrow my eyes. “He did?”

“Yes,” she smiles. “I was having a hard time with something, and he encouraged me to just be myself.”

“What happened?” I ask, eagerly.

She takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. Her chest rises high, and I try not to look.
Damn, I looked! But I can’t miss those things. No, because you want to look, don’t you? Admit it, Jaime.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

She shakes her head, her hair swishes behind her, and the small rhinestones on her mask reflect the beams from the disco lights. “No, but it’s okay. It’s a good thing, believe me.” She takes a drink before continuing. “What about your friend?”

Joss’s beautiful face flashes before me, but all I can see is awkwardness and tolerance.
She’s putting up with me because she has to.

“What?” she asks incredulously.

“I said that out loud? Fuck, sorry.” I gulp my cocktail and my throat contracts with the volume of liquid I swallow at once.

“You really think that?” she asks, her tone snippier than I expected. “Remember what I said last night?” She takes my glass from me before I can down the whole thing.

I need to, though. I need to wash away the doubt in my mind. The confusion, the anger, the frustration…
 

“I do,” I nod, and the flood of emotions hit me again in my tipsy state.

My gaze fixes on her, and I don’t know what else to say. Last night left me ashamed for how my body had reacted when she touched me. How I feel about Joss maybe liking me more than she shows, and also the fact that I’d been aroused by it all. I’d selfishly treated it all like some sort of joke, but it was far from it.

“Just be yourself, Bunny,” Butterfly says reassuringly. “That’s all you can do.”

I snort a laugh. “Tell my mom that.”
 

Butterfly doesn’t say anything, and I stop. My relationship with my mother isn’t something I talk about with my friends, let alone somebody I met just last night. A sting in the bridge of my nose threatens to embarrass me, but I feel Butterfly’s fingertips under my wobbling chin, and she turns my face towards her.