"I didn't read the fine print." His bluster was weakening, but pride kept him from backing down completely. "Look, my friend here just wants to observe. He's curious about the lifestyle."
That was where things always got complicated. Curiosity wasn't inherently problematic, but unvetted curiosity in a space built on trust and vulnerability could be dangerous for everyone involved.
"I understand." I glanced at the uncomfortable friend, who was now studying his shoes with the intensity of a man who wanted to disappear. "However, our guest policy exists to protect the privacy and safety of all our members. Your friend would need to complete our orientation process and background screening before—"
"That's bullshit bureaucracy." Harrison's voice rose again, and I felt the familiar tightness in my chest that came with escalating situations. Around us, I was aware of conversations quieting, attention shifting our way. The entryway was in a small reception area, separated from the club by a security door, but at this time there were plenty of people arriving and heading for the locker rooms.
The weight of responsibility settled heavier on my shoulders. Every person came here to explore parts of themselves that required absolute security, and men like Harrison threatened that foundation with their entitled assumptions.
I was about to respond when movement near the entrance caught my eye. A small figure with blonde hair had just stepped inside, looking around with wide blue eyes that took in the club with a mixture of nervousness and wonder.
Charlotte. The Little I'd seen here once before.
My mind flashed back to a couple of weeks ago—her first visit to the club's Little night. She'd been wearing a pastel pinkdress then, too; in fact I was pretty sure it was the same one. I remembered how she'd tripped over her own feet near the bar, sending her stuffed bunny flying. I'd scooped her up and examined her knees for booboos while she'd looked up at me with those big blue eyes, thanked me in a soft voice that barely carried over the music, and disappeared into the crowd before I could say more than "Be careful."
"Mr. Harrison," Dion said, drawing my attention back to the situation at hand. His voice had taken on that dangerous calm that usually preceded someone being escorted from the premises. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private."
I nodded to Dion, silently communicating that I'd handle Charlotte while he dealt with Harrison. The girl was clutching a stuffie to her chest, scanning faces as if looking for someone. She seemed even more out of place tonight than she had during Little night, her sweet, innocent presence a stark contrast to the regular club atmosphere.
"Leon, please show these gentlemen to the office." Harrison looked ready to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him otherwise. As Dion and Leon guided the two men toward the back, I made my way to Charlotte, who had moved to stand uncertainly near the coat check.
"Hello again," I said, keeping my voice gentle. Up close, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her knuckles whitened around her stuffed animal. "Little night isn't until Thursday."
She blinked up at me, recognition dawning. "Oh! You're the man who caught me. I remember you." A blush spread across her cheeks. "I'm Charlotte Summers. Most people call me Lottie."
"Walker," I offered. "Is someone meeting you here tonight, Lottie?"
She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. "No, I just...I wanted to come back. Everyone was so nice last time." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I don't really know anyone yet. I'm still learning about all this."
The vulnerability in her admission hit me harder than it should have. She was clearly new to the lifestyle, possibly new to understanding her own needs. And she'd walked into a regular club night alone, looking like a lost kitten in a room full of wolves.
"This isn't the safest night for someone on their own," I explained, guiding her gently toward a quieter corner. "Are you meeting someone? A Daddy?"
Her eyes widened. "I don't have a Daddy," she admitted, clutching her teddy bear closer to her chest. "Not yet, anyway. I thought maybe...I could meet someone. Get to know the community better."
I fought the urge to sigh. Her intentions were innocent enough, but her approach was dangerous. Despite our extensive checks, too many predators lurked in spaces like this, waiting for someone exactly like Charlotte—naive, eager, and alone.
"Lottie," I said, keeping my voice gentle but firm. "Regular club nights aren't the best time to look for a Daddy. The vetting process is important, especially for Littles."
Her face fell, and I felt a pang of something I couldn't quite identify. Protectiveness, maybe. Or perhaps it was simply that her disappointment reminded me of how Gran used to look when I left on deployment.
"I just thought..." She bit her lower lip. "My shift got changed tonight so I thought I’d try. I was working last Thursday."
I glanced around the club, noting at least three men who had already taken notice of Charlotte. Their interest wasn't necessarily predatory, but I'd been in this business long enough to recognize hunger when I saw it.
"Come with me," I decided, gesturing toward the stairs that led to the second floor. "The monitors' lounge is quieter. We can talk there, and I can answer some of your questions."
Relief washed over her face. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"
"It's my job to make sure everyone here is safe." It wasn't entirely true—my job was security more than education—but something about leaving her alone on the main floor felt wrong.
As we climbed the stairs, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Probably Dion updating me on the Harrison situation. It could wait.
The monitors' lounge was mercifully empty when we arrived. A comfortable space with plush couches, subdued lighting, and a small kitchenette, it served as a refuge for the club's staff between shifts.
"Have a seat," I said, gesturing to one of the couches. "Would you like some water? Tea?"
"Tea would be nice," she said, perching on the edge of the couch like she was afraid to take up too much space. "If it's not too much trouble."
