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“There must be something more to this place, something you are not seeing. Perhaps it’s not out in the open, but trust me, I know it’s there,” Terry said. His words intimated that she probe behind the smoke and mirrors.
Ari decided in favor of not telling Terry about the blueprints, as she needed more details. She wasn’t about to spread rumors where there weren’t any. When she first saw them in Maxi’s office, her mind raced to detestable things. But the more she pondered the ideas, the more the possibility of a planned remodel of the club sounded more reasonable. It made sense Adytum would want more private rooms since that’s where the money was. Although one giant voyeuristic playground was ideal for Ari and her predator-sniffing snout.
Ari put Terry at ease by promising that their next conversation would have more concrete details. It was a lie. How deep could she go being chained up every night? After Terry left, Ari stayed behind and used the space and time to link Maxi, or the Delacroix family, to anyone on her short list of members. As an investigative reporter, she had learned some tricks and knew of some back doors on the web to help with the search.
After a bunch of dead-end searches, one shot back a surprising result from an old archive from the days of microfiche. She zoomed into the text on a police report from decades ago and squinted at the microphotograph of a scanned document. Just as her eye recognized Terry Bradwell’s name, the simultaneous boom of thunder and strike of lightning flickered the lights. Her head darted upward with her eyes casting away from the screen. At that very moment, as if the heavens had opened up, Dylan opened the door to the café.
Unprepared for encountering her outside the club, Ari slammed her computer shut as Dylan walked toward her. The unexpected thumping of her heart felt like a ticking time bomb ready to detonate. It had her flushed by the time Dylan strode across the room to the empty chair.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Mind if I join you?” asked Dylan. She pulled out the chair before Ari had the chance to answer. Not that she would have sent her away.
Dylan pulled off the leather biker coat that shimmered with the effects of the afternoon storm. Not usually attracted to butch women, it amazed Ari how titillated she was with her when Dylan ran her hand through her wet hair, spiking it up in a soggy mess. The arrogant smirk pushed Ari further toward the fire surging through her loins, reigniting the sensation of Dylan’s finger grazing over the center of her panties.
Her gaze flicked over Dylan’s torso, lingering for a moment on the tight black muscle shirt before she scanned the area for Terry, hoping he wasn’t around. With nothing in their way, Ari looked back at Dylan, who stood confidently with her chest puffed out after placing her jacket on the chair. That pompous attitude was exactly what Ari liked in a woman, though she’d never admit it. As she spoke the word, “Hi!” a girlish smile spread across her face with a flutter in her belly that she couldn’t ignore.
When Dylan reached for the two-hour-old coffee, Ari couldn’t even let her worst enemy attempt to drink something that repugnant. Ari waved her hand. “I’d stay away from that if I were you.”
With a twisted scowl, Dylan held her hand up, signaling the waitress. “Can I get a cola? Anything for you?”
Ari shook her head, pulled the laptop from the table, and tucked it in her bag.
Dylan confirmed the order and sent the waitress off, then passed her attention back to Ari. “I know this sounds like a line, but you come here often?”
They both chucked as Ari said, “It does sound like a line. You probably have a lot of those. Do all the girls fall for your condescending charm, or do you save that for the ones who call you ‘Boss,’ Boss?”
Dylan winced. Her shoulders slumped as Ari’s words about her attitude hit their mark. “Let me start again. Hi! It’s nice to see you outside the club. Do you live around here?”
A wave of warmth washed over Ari’s face, her cheeks reddening as she watched Dylan soften in front of her. “Much better. That tough girl attitude might suit you well in the club, but I’d like to see how much of my feminine wiles it will take to turn you into a teddy bear.”
“Oh. So, we’re playing a game? I see. And I thought I was supposed to be the dominant one.”
“Aren’t submissives supposed to be brats, so their Mistresses punish them?”
Dylan raised a brow. The teasing but arrogant smirk returned. “Miss Delgado, do I need to turn you over my knee in the middle of this café?”
Was this really happening? She was in the middle of a café—her café—egging her boss on with sexual innuendos when there should have been a level of respect for management. Yet Dylan wasn’t truly her boss. It was a role-playing game. Everyone in the club played a role, calling people Madame-this or Lady-that. Outside the fantasy realm of BDSM, they were just some plain ol’ Mary Jane Smith.
A knot formed in her stomach as she sensed their odylic force return as if they were feral animals ready to mate. She pressed her palms into the table to lift herself up. “I should go.”
Dylan rose with her. “Wait, no. I’m sorry. Stay. Please. I owe you an apology.”
Her words seemed almost frantic and neither moved. Dylan cast her eyes down at the table as if embarrassed by what had come out of her mouth. Ari waved off the apology because they were both at fault. “No, you don’t. I mean, I started that entire conversation, throwing you off your game, but I really should go. I’ve been here too long already.”
When Ari picked up her bag, Dylan placed her hand on hers. A curtain of regret covered her eyes, warding off any shred of happiness. “No, I really need to apologize for something.”
“Why would you owe me an apology?” Ari asked and sat.
In the chair across from her, Dylan took her seat again. Her mocha-colored eyes shone an inkling of remorse. “I—I should never have hired you and allowed you to come into—”
Ari’s gesture stopped Dylan mid-sentence. She couldn’t let someone bear guilt for what she desired. “Hey, no. I’m the one who wanted this job. I applied and auditioned. That’s all on me.”
“No, you wanted a waitressing job. You said it in the audition. I should have let you go then, but—”
Dylan lingered a little too long on that unspoken sentiment. When she didn’t continue, Ari wanted to cast another dismissal wave at the notion. Instead, she let the moment hang, suspended with uncertainty. Could this have been the non-consent Terry had mentioned? No longer ready to interrupt Dylan’s confession, Ari balled her hands together in front of her mouth and waited.
“My motives were less than professional.” Dylan swallowed with an audible gulp. “Ari, with no experience in this world, I had no business hiring you for this job. I hired you because I felt an irresistible attraction to you. You’re like a drug I crave, something I need in my blood.”
The admission caused Ari to forget that she was the one who had willingly exposed herself to the woman. Anger boiled within her. As she fought for the position in this sadistic industry, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being used solely as a sexual object for a power-hungry butch. Dylan’s actions left her feeling degraded and shattered as she used her for some sick game.
