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"So, what am I, then, what exactly do you mean when you say you know I've been to the club with Joel?"
"You're like you are now," Charlotte replied. "All chilled and serene."
Daisy sent her friend a baffled look as she idly twirled her long wooden beads "And this is bad…how?"
Charlotte didn't answer, just shook her head sharply in defeat, sending her long dark hair rippling down her back.
Casting a sidelong look, Daisy giggled cheekily, showing off her single dimple. "You're just frustrated 'cos you fancy the pants off of Jake and you're not brave enough to dip your toe into the kink. Repressed and sexually unfulfilled!" she pronounced with her best therapist impersonation. "What you need is a good seeing to!"
Daisy sprang to her feet, grinning at Charlotte's bemused expression. "I've got to get to my afternoon class," she announced as she grabbed her bag. "We're having a demonstration of some cutting-edge pottery glazing techniques, and I want to get a good seat," she confided as she launched her sandwich wrapper into a nearby bin, pumping the air with her fist when the improvised ball achieved its target. "Score!" Daisy whooped merrily, bouncing on the balls of her feet and sending her shoulder length curls bobbing gaily around her head. Her trademark ribbon fluttered at her temple, today's was tied in a sunny yellow bow with trailing ends. It matched the trim on her scooped neck peasant blouse which hung negligently off one shoulder. Her delighted laughter bubbled in typical joyful abandon.
Setting off, Daisy waved cheerily over her shoulder. "See you later," she called happily, and Charlotte watched as Daisy bounded off energetically, oblivious to the admiring glances and smiles she drew from those around her at the spirited exhilaration and unguarded enthusiasm for life that radiated from her.
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed the hour as Daisy made her way down into the basement of the grandiose Victorian house on the outskirts of the university campus that Joel Blackwood shared with his cousin, Jake Blackwood, and their family friend, Eric Oliver.
Daisy mentally counted off the seven chimes and checked it against her wristwatch, wondering whether it was that which was out by five or six minutes or the impressive grandfather clock that graced the formal dining room. Probably her watch, she thought, giving it an absent tap.
This whole house, as well as its occupants, were all from old money. Joel's father was CEO of their family business, a multi-billion conglomerate with its fingers in all kinds of pies. Joel was being groomed to take over the position in the future, but Daisy had never been interested in trying to get her head around whatever it was they did.
The tight-lipped housekeeper had let her in with a vaguely disapproving look, which Daisy automatically shrugged off. Why on earth the woman always felt the need to judge her was beyond Daisy and she never let it bother her, although she admitted to being vaguely curious as to why Mrs. Myrtle always looked at her so disparagingly, as if she was some layer of filth that was being trodden onto the marble floors. People were people as far as Daisy was concerned, rich or poor, black or white, clever or not; they all ate and slept and hurt and bled and laughed and loved. Everyone was equal in Daisy's mind; some might be more beautiful, others cleverer, some worked harder, others had more compassion, but everyone had something that made them unique.
Daisy was her own person; she tried never to be judgemental and she certainly kept any such thoughts to herself. She was confident in her appearance and her character. She tried hard to be nice to people and she was always unfailingly polite, regardless. People could take her or leave her. Daisy had always rationalised that if anyone wanted to demean her, then she certainly didn't need them in her life. She didn't get into it with them; she was never rude; she simply distanced herself accordingly, and if that wasn't possible, then she was aloof but respectful.
Maybe Mrs. Myrtle knew about Daisy and Joel's kinky sex life and didn't approve. Daisy understood that some people had extremely adverse opinions of the lifestyle. Poor Jake was still mired deeply in the hostile and critical publicity caused when his ex-girlfriend turned out to be a reporter looking for dirt on the eminent Blackwood family to further her career.
Daisy pursed her lips and frowned; what was between her and Joel didn't affect anyone else and it was certainly nobody else's business. She wondered what it was that made others imagine they had any kind of right to comment or interfere with the personal quirks of private individuals when those practices were through mutual consent and reciprocal respect.
The basement area was spacious and clear of the antiques and lavish furnishings that characterised the rest of the house. It had been fashioned into a gym, and Daisy often thought that Joel and Jake seemed more at home down here than in the rest of the place which was a little formal and stuffy for her taste, despite her admiration for the artistic creations of past generations.
Eric was a different matter entirely. She'd tried hard to be positive about him since he was Joel's friend, but Daisy was a little ashamed that she'd always thought him to be somewhat conceited and rather intimidating. And not just because he had gotten fresh with her and majorly overstepped the line one time and things had gotten a bit nasty.
Daisy still shuddered at the memory. She often watched him preening in the ostentatious surroundings as he'd showed some new conquest around, lavishing his girls with champagne and jewellery while they simpered and fawned around him but always looked far more calculating behind his back.
Daisy had consciously squelched her negative sentiments towards Eric and tried to be a good friend, tentatively reaching out to him and gently suggesting that maybe the girls he picked up were more than a little too interested in his money. Eric had looked down his nose at her in disdain and sneered that he could buy whatever he desired, even women—classy women from prestigious backgrounds who were obviously beyond her comprehension.
Daisy had absorbed the spiteful taunt wordlessly; they weren't the first or even the worst he had thrown at her, but privately, the thought flittered through her mind that he would never be able to buy love and that, obviously, he and the women he chose to hang out with deserved each other! She'd kept her distance from both ever since.
Heading in the direction Mrs. Myrtle had brusquely indicated, Daisy hitched up her floral peasant skirt as she descended the stairs, her ballet flats silent on the concrete steps. Joel wasn't expecting her this evening and probably hadn't heard the doorbell down here, but her extracurricular Alternative Arts class had been cancelled since the tutor had been taken ill, so she'd decided to surprise him.
Hearing voices as she approached the door at the bottom of the steps, she wondered if she'd made the right decision. Joel clearly had guests. She could hear more people than just the three housemates and their close friend, Logan Thornton, maybe half a dozen or more. Daisy shrugged. She was here now so she might as well say hello, at least.
The door stood ajar, and as she approached from the dimly lit stairwell, Daisy could see several men she recognised from Club Risqué in the bright room beyond. They were older, well, maybe not that much older than Joel, who, at twenty-three, had taken a couple of years out to work in different branches of the family business before he finished University. Still, they seemed a lot older than her own nineteen years and she hesitated briefly, a flush blooming on her cheeks as it occurred to her that all these men had seen her naked and in compromising positions. She wasn't exactly embarrassed—it was just that she'd never met any of them in a social situation before, with the exception of Eric, whom she considered more of a voyeur than a Dom and whom she generally avoided, and Jake and Logan, who judiciously never acknowledged it.
Daisy shook her head, took a deep breath, and stepped forward to push the door all the way open, only to pause once again as she heard her own name mentioned.
Frowning and tipping her head to the side, Daisy recognised Eric's nasal voice.
"Jeez, Joel, when are you going to get rid of ditsy Daisy and find yourself a real woman; one that you won't be embarrassed to take home to meet your parents?"
Daisy recoiled, pulling her hand back from the door as if it might burn her and her eyes automatically flew to Joel, even as her mother's voice skittered through her mind, telling her that eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves.
Joel's profile was directly in Daisy's line of sight. He glanced at Eric but didn't appear annoyed at Eric's tirade; he didn't defend her, just tipped up his beer bottle and took a swig as he lounged comfortably on one of the casual sofas that dotted the edges of the room. Daisy frowned, confused at his reaction, even as the cold fingers of icy dread began clutching at her stomach.
"Damn dizzy blonde," Eric continued. "You can't even have a decent conversation with the stupid bimbo!" He shook his head. "Have you heard her droning on about all that fucking idiotic arty farty crap?" he demanded belligerently.
Daisy pressed her hand against her chest, biting her lip against an insidious pain that felt remarkably like betrayal. She considered some of these men her friends, close friends. And yet there they sat, completely non-committal, listening with careless disinterest while somebody flayed her character and intelligence as if she were of no more importance than a vague acquaintance.
Another man laughed from his perch on one of the exercise bikes and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I don't think it's her scintillating conversation that he's interested in."
