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We may not be the best people around, but we don’t stand for harm against women and children. That’s where we draw our line in the sand.
Slugging myself into a table, the waitress doesn’t hesitate to bring my usual. Plopping down the glass, she pours me three fingers of whiskey before turning away. Calling back to her, I motion for her to just leave the damn bottle. Pointless to take off with it when I will be needing a refill before she can get back to the bar. She plops it onto the table and gets to work with the other regulars.
The cool glass meets my lips, and the slight burn from the alcohol as it coats my throat is blissful. Serene.
Ever since we implemented the registration and membership for Backslide, our numbers initially dropped. It was a shock for everyone, but when we explained that it was due to recent safety concerns, most of the members were on board. Now, our members are more protected from the inside out, and not just the outside in.
“You look like you could use a pick-me-up.” A female plops down in the chair next to me, her shirt barely containing her tits. She’s definitely someone I would go for, except…she’s definitely not anymore.
“And you are?” My arm stretches out over the back of the seat, opposite to her while occupying my hand with the glass. I don’t want her to think I’m interested or willing to be…persuaded.
“I’m Amber,” she smiles. We sit and stare for a moment. She twirls her hair and pops her gum obnoxiously. I take several slow sips from my glass, taking in the female.
“Amber,” I muse, looking down at my lap. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s more like what I can do for you.” Her hand lands on my thigh gently, slowly stroking my leg. As nicely as I can, I bounce my leg and get her touch to fall away. Her expression drops for a moment before returning just as brightly.
“Are you an employee, or a patron?” I ponder. Grabbing the bottle, I pour myself more whiskey. There’s clear hesitation in her eyes, and I’m not entirely sure why. “Oh, were you not honest about your name?” I tsk condescendingly.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re not interested,” she huffs, attempting to scoot out of the vinyl seating. The short shorts hug her slim figure, her long legs on display as she tries her best to stand graceful without sticking.
“Who said I wasn’t interested?” If I want to know her angle, I need to play the long game. She freezes immediately and glances seductively over her shoulder. After watching Leather in action, seeing how she can manhandle someone without even breaking a sweat…witnessing her ability to carve humans into canvases…no one else will compare.
But for the sake of the club, and our livelihood, I digress.
“I just assumed…”
“Assumptions are what dreams die on.” Waving at the waitress as she passes, I order Amber a vodka soda. I can tell she wants to reject the order, but one sharp stare has her shrinking.
We sit quietly for several moments, her breathing heavy as I take several long, slow looks over her. She’s fit, seemingly in good shape, though she doesn’t have a cut nor a club tattoo. Anyone who wants to be a member has to have one of those two things, if not both. Finally, the waitress returns with the drink, giving Amber a long look before taking off to help another person.
“So. What brings you to this club?” Using my free hand, I gesture around us. Exhibitions of all sorts are going on, some already in the process of fucking like animals, while others are still leading their submissive like a fucking dog.
It’s great.
“I had a friend recommend this place, so I applied and was accepted,” she shrugs. Her glass meets her lips, throat bobbing as she takes several quick swigs. There’s tears forming at the corner of her eyes from the burn, most likely, and it’s fascinating to watch others who aren’t used to the burn. People who haven’t had the chance to familiarize themselves with it.
“Really? How cool.” I wrack my brain for anyone with her name and come up short. I know for a fact that no one with that specific name has come through, not even on the alias cards. “What friend?” She sputters slightly, just enough that an untrained person wouldn’t catch it. Yet, I’m specifically looking for characteristics that wouldn’t be seen by the normal eyes. I look for mannerisms, eye movement, speech styles.
She’s trying to take me for being a fool, and I don’t fucking like it.
“Oh, you probably wouldn’t know them.” Waving her hand through the air dismissively, I roll my eyes back down to my lap.
Initially, I was thinking that she might not know who I am and how I’m associated with the club. After that simple conversation, I have no doubt in my mind that she knows exactly who she’s talking to. She’s also got a goal in mind, one that I don’t think I will like.
One thing I believe she underestimated? The fact that I’m the one who does all club admissions.
“I bet I would,” I toss back teasingly. I need her to slowly build trust in me. She scoffs with a laugh, taking another long drink from her cup. Catching eyes with the waitress across the bar, I use my free hand and motion for her to keep the drinks coming for the female accompanying me. Flicking my finger, I signal I need something a little bit stronger for my friend. She nods without missing a beat.
“His name is Tornado, I’m not sure you’d know him. He’s new to the club.” Schooling my features, I give her a single nod.
“No, he’s not ringing a bell. What does he do in the club?”
“You seriously have no idea?” She asks, her eyes wide with glee. Shit. Maybe she doesn’t know who I am after all. Shaking my head, she immediately goes into who he is and how great he is. Not just how good he is, but how great, if the jist is gotten.
As she talks, I try to drone her out.
After a couple hours, she’s easily five or six drinks in. Her inhibitions are long gone.
