Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series) (4 page)

“
I hired him a year ago, give or take.”

“
He works here? He's here, now?”

“
Not tonight, unfortunately. Sunday, he will be.” He handed me his business card. “Send me your Checklist if you're serious. The e-mail and phone numbers are there if you have any questions.”

“
Thank you again. Very much.”

I
felt lighter than I had in months.

* * *

W
hy hadn't I sought employment at
Rack's
earlier?
I updated my online Checklist. Not much had changed. I had waited a full night and day before deciding to e-mail Samuel my information. Because it still felt like a good idea, and because I felt rational, I didn't see the harm in trying something new. Then, it was done. There was no unsending an e-mail. W
orking at the club would be safe enough, I reassured myself. I'd be professional, finding an outlet for the pain I wanted to take.

Energy
crept through me, sparking along my nerves as it grew stronger. Going to
Rack's
with Lane had helped me find a temporary solution.
Temporary.
I closed the laptop and rested my head on top of it, nearly overwhelmed by my masochistic yearning. It felt like something was clawing at the inside of my chest and all along the middle of my body.
How had I let it get so bad?
I moved Samuel's business card onto my bedside table and saw Quinn Emerson's. The new rush of lust left me intensely restless. But it was there...

I
looked over to my gray kitten, Tiny. “Think he's sexy as I remember him?”

She
didn't have an answer for me, but he would. I found him under my Contacts list and listened to the ringing on speakerphone, then his voice-mail message.

“
It's Clara. We met a few days ago
.
Call me back if you want to get food, or hang, or something? Thanks.”

Tiny
stared at me, judging without having to say a word. Mentally exhausted enough to relax, all my body ached for was rest. Ghosty, Lane's cat, rested his back against the side of my neck. Tiny curled up on my chest. They were comforting, finally helping me drift into deep sleep.

-
Chapter 4
-

~
So Hott ~

'
H
i, it's Quinn. Sorry I missed your call. Call me back and we'll set something up?'

I
had been working when he called mid-morning on Monday. Seeing that he had kept me nicely distracted for the rest of the day. When I got back to him later that evening, the ringing went on for a few seconds and went to voice-mail.

“
Hi, it's Claire Gillian, returning your call. What does your--” I nearly dropped my phone when it beeped loudly and started vibrating. A call was coming in. “Quinn?”

“
Hey, sorry about that. I was just getting out of the car. What's up?”

“
I was calling about, maybe, getting dinner sometime...” He sounded busy.

“
How about Friday or Saturday? Are you free either of those days?”

“
I'll be out of work by five. Whichever's easier for you.”

“
How do you feel about Italian, Friday evening?”

“
That sounds great,” I mentally reminded myself not to wear anything white.“Around six? Does that work for you?”

“
It does. I'll make reservations. I'm just getting in, and um...” he sounded further away. “Juggling stuff, sorry again.”

“
No problem. Call or text me tomorrow?”

“
Cool, thanks. I'll talk to you then,” he said. “Have a good night, Clara.”

“
You too. 'Night, Quinn.” I ended the call after a second or two of quiet.

That
had been easy, I liked how decisive he sounded. Excitement twisted in my lower stomach.
Turning to my computer, I lost a few hours to writing. It never failed to help me find calm. With plans to meet up with Quinn and five more days to decide about working at
Rack's
, the heavy pressure finally stopped grating at me. While I knew it was borrowed time, I'd happily take a few days of mental calm.

Annoyed by the shrill ringing sound, I struggled to locate my phone. It had been a shorter Thursday than usual after helping Ben review and prepare for his day in court. Everyone who worked for him knew to clear their schedules a few days before. Because he knew it would go well, I was able to go home when he left for the courthouse. After checking in with Lane, I fell into bed with the intention of cuddling Tiny for a few minutes.

Three
hours later, I was glad my evening hadn't been lost to another extended nap. It was only six. The phone was under my hip instead of in my pocket, still ringing loudly. I saw the screen and
'Quinn Emerson.'

“
Hello?”

“
Hello,” he replied.

“
Er, how are you?”

“
I'm good. You?”

“
I'm good, too. So... what's up?” I asked after a long, silent few seconds.

“
What's up? You called me.”

Checking
my phone confirmed that I had. Tom, too, and a bunch of random symbols. That helped clear all of my mental cobwebs. “I did! I'm so sorry about that!”

“
Pocket dialing?” he guessed. “I wanted to confirm our plans again for dinner tomorrow, anyway. Sorry if I'm catching you at a bad time?”

“
You aren't. It sounds like you're driving, though.” 

“
I am. Er, I need to return a client call. Mind if I call you back in... Soon?”

“
No problem. 'Safe driving.”

My
body churned with excitement.
Would he call?
Falling asleep again wasn't going to happen any time soon. I texted Tom's
'?'
back with an explanation.

'
Lol.'

'What are you up to? Wanna hang?'

'
Working all weekend, closing. Free Monday.'

'
Don't get caught with your phone. Text me Sunday?'

'Ok. Ttyt.'

I zoned out, not wanting to actually exercise, or risk watching shows I'd see with Tom.
Opening my laptop, I played brain games online while wondering what to do with the rest of my evening. Until my phone rang, the ring tone foreboding and generic.

“
Hello?” I asked, wary of numbers I didn't recognize.

“
It's Samuel Druitt. Is this Claire Gillian?”

“
Clara, yes.”

“
Good. I'm calling from
Rack's
. I've read through your Checklist.”

“
What do you think?” 

“
You could make a lot of money.” He laughed, the kind of laugh I heard at work when we got a big client. “Are you free at all tonight, or sometime this weekend? I want to talk to you about it, in-person.”

“
When this weekend?”

“
Tomorrow evening, any time Sunday. Tonight, if you can.”

“
I can't tomorrow. You said you're free tonight? Or Sunday. It's up to you.”

“
We might be able to have you start this weekend. Can you get here sometime in the next hour?”

“
Yes. I can,” I felt swept along by dangerous energy. “I'll see you soon.”

             
Waiting for Samuel, I listened to the dulled pain sounds that vibrated through the floor. The downstairs rooms were being used by two s/m groups. It was eerie, seeing how empty and dark the upper floor was when the club wasn't open.

“
Really glad you could make it.” His office door opened and he ushered me inside. “I only have a few questions, no need to worry.”

His
black desk chair hissed when he turned in a half-circle to face me. There was a comfortable, black leather couch in the corner. His computer and monitor looked new, but he definitely needed a new desk. The scratches on it's surface went down deep into the yellow oak. 

“
You can submit to a female or male Dominant?” he asked, looking through my Checklist again.

“
I prefer a male Dom. It doesn't matter for demonstrations,” I decided. “I'd like to work with Rhys for a while, at least until I get a better read on the other club Tops.”

“
Of course. You've been a submissive for the past, what, four years?”

“
At least, yes, but before you ask anything else-? My other job has to come first, I'm not sure what the schedule is like here.”

“
What's your schedule like?”

“
I have weekends off, but I can't do anything Monday to Friday, sometimes Saturdays.”

Samuel
was already nodding. “The only real rule I have is, if you say you'll be here, I expect you to honor the commitment.”

“
Of course.” That made things easy. “If I schedule a pain session, I'll be here for it.”

“
I've seen you perform here before. I know you like taking pain. We don't allow penetration, of any kind, on club grounds. We do allow the use of vibrators
over
fabric. That, you can discuss with your Top.”

“
That won't be necessary.”

“
I'll give you copies of the employment papers to take with you. Read them before you sign.” He put a thin manilla folder in front of me. “Your third interview will be a private Session, here. With Rhys, I assume. After that, you can start with whatever event interests you.”

“
Sounds fair.”

“
Do you have a
ny questions for me?”

“
Not yet. None that I can think of.”

“
None? Well, while you think about it, do you want the insider tour?”

I followed him out of his office, down a short, wide hallway with three doors, one to my left and right, one with sliding double doors directly in front of us.  He opened the left door, painted black, which led into a square storage closet.

“We keep things for pain, for pleasure, and for sensory play in these trunks.” There were five of them, three vertical and wide, two long and horizontal.

The larger, metal door to my right opened. “Cushions for the couches, for the s/m equipment. The s/m tables, crosses, benches, stocks... you know what we have.”

“When you rent the larger s/m furniture, it's for the whole night, right?”

“
Right. After a piece is used, it's rolled back here to be sent out. We have everything thoroughly cleaned after s/m sessions. Everything that's used during the night.” He opened the double sliding doors. “The break room. If you and your Top need a break, this is where you can rest.”

There was a television and adjustable speakers on the walls for music. Four short couches were arranged around a low-sitting, flat table. An older-model, white fridge fit into the space between two cabinets, one with a coffee-maker on top.

“And... that's pretty much it.”

“
Thanks for the tour,” I walked with him back to his office. “If I think of any questions, I'll e-mail you.”

“
Or call. Anytime. There's some club information in that folder about payment, safety, safewords and signals for how to stop play however you're restrained. Make sure you read through those, too.”

“
I will.”

“
Oh,” he said, remembering as I got to his door, “I forgot to mention. Once you sign and agree to work here, there's no entry fee for you and one partner. No extra charge for the hardcore s/m stuff, too.”

“
Those are
really
good things to know. Thanks for the interview.”

“
Feel free to look around before you go.”

There
was no need to push the mental calm I'd found. The desire to call Rhys was rising. If I were going to submit for him at the club, I wanted to see if he would have a practice session with me, just between us. The money I made from
Rack's
would go into my '
When Ben retires
' account.
I lit a cigarette and leaned against a light post near the car. The drive wasn't long enough for me to air it out. I respected that Lane hated when the upholstery reeked of smoke.

It
was cold enough out that my desire to submit iced over. When I got home, my toy and I would be spending some time together.
I needed to redirect some energy before I drove myself mad.

“
Clara?”

I
froze, hearing the voice that called my name.
No. Oh no...
“Quinn? … … Hi?”

“
How are you?” He crossed the street, leaving what was left of his cigarette at the curb. “Is everything alright?”

“
I'm fine, yes. How are you?”

“
Good, thank you. What brings you downtown?”  

“
I was... Well, there-” I gestured vaguely, away from the club. “What are you up to?”

“
I live in the apartment complex, that way,” he pointed to our left, “and I had a business meeting, there. It used to be much nicer.”

The
bar a few doors down.
“I stopped going when the old managers sold it. Does it look a lot different now?”

“
Yes, very. My client wanted a really good margarita. At least that hasn't changed.”

He
had good posture and nice taste in suits, his jacket and pants dark gray, well-fitting, with a crisp white shirt underneath. I felt incredibly awkward, wearing a short, lacy black skirt. My corset was light blue and black, though he wouldn't see so long as I kept my long coat closed...

“
How did your meeting go?”

“
It went really well, thanks for asking.”

“
Good. That's good to hear.” I finished my cigarette, looking to see if he was just being polite.

“
Are you on your way home, or do you have other plans for tonight-?” 

“
I've got nothing planned. Are you still working?”

“
My schedule's clear. I'll buy you a drink if you want one, just not there. Or we can have one back at my place.”

“
Somewhere not there sounds good. I'll leave where up to you? All I have to do is call my roommate and let her know I'll have the car.”

“
Cool.” Quinn reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a cigarette. Then he paused, pulling out the pack and his lighter. “I left my credit card inside.”

“
I'll be here.”