Page 164 of Daddy's Pride
All of the vendors went to the right entrance, and were able to get into the venue without any harassment at all, which she considered to be a strong start. It was weird to see everyone in person, rather than over Zoom or as bodiless voices in her ear. They were all chatty and excited, and seemed to set up fairly quickly.
The layout was simple; three rows of booths, with plenty of walkway for wheelchairs to pass through. Rachel and Cat had poured over the plans for a few weeks, and had eventually decided to mix up the types of vendors who were next to each other. They didn’t want people to only explore one section, because they thought that that was what they’d like best. This way most people would at least pass pretty much every stall, and hopefully stop and chat.
Emma’s table was next to Stuffie Hospital London’s, and Rachel found herself hovering, looking at the pretty collars that covered the table. They ranged from traditional heavier-set o-rings, all the way to very subtle day collars made from pearls.
“They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?” said Isla.
Embarrassed to be caught looking at such things, Rachel went to back away, but Isla beckoned her closer. “What do you like, babygirl?”
She took a moment to look over the pieces, and Emma saw the two of them together and winked at Rachel. She flushed and turned back to the necklaces.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I’ve never been collared before, and I’d want whatever it was to really mean something. But what that is changes with the person who gives it to you, I suppose.” Very steadfastly not looking at Isla, she continued, a little falteringly. “The big chunky pieces, they’re cool. They’re statement, that’s for certain, but I’m not sure I’d like something so heavy around my neck. And I do a lot of work with clients over Zoom, and as much as I’m encouraged by work to be artsy, I know that they prefer me to have a normative smart look for those meetings.”
“That makes sense,” said Isla. “Besides, I kind of see collars as being for the person who wears it and the person who gives it—it’s not really anyone else’s business.”
Rachel laughed.
“What do you think?” asked Emma, coming over. “You see something you like?” She looked between the two of them and smiled. “You’re day collar people, I think. Here, have a look at these,” and she showed them a tray that hadn’t been laid out on the front of the stall just yet.
It had the most delicate necklaces that Rachel had ever seen, silver and gold chains so fine they could have been lace.
“Wow,” she breathed, “they’re beautiful.”
Emma pinked. “Thank you; these are my favorite ones to make.”
Reaching out, Rachel stroked them carefully. “Seriously, Emma. These are amazing.”
She caught Isla’s eye, and flushed. This was too close to the start of the market; she didn’t have time to be thinking wild thoughts about Isla and being collared and belonging to her Daddy. Definitely absolutely no time for that sort of thing.
“I’d best…”
Isla laughed, and Rachel knew that she’d guessed exactly what Rachel was thinking. “Go on, babygirl. Go smash it. Proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she said, stopping just before she called her girlfriend Daddy in public. “Love you.” And she pressed a kiss to Isla’s lips before hurrying away from a tray of collars that were as tempting as they were pretty.
Chapter Eighteen
Isla’s contact had come through, and when Rachel, Cat and Tel headed to the front door to check how it all looked, they were impressed to see the walkway that led from the road to the building.
It looked a bit like a gazebo, with opaque sides and a roof, so no one could see in. And it went right up to the lip of the road so that you couldn’t see in unless you were blocking the road itself, and it looked like even the protestors weren’t risking that on a busy road.
“We’ve had some questions from the… individuals outside,” said Rose, the head of the security team, not even attempting to hide her distaste, “about whether or not we’re allowed to block a pathway like this, but it turns out that whoever provided it, had a chat with the council and left me with a ton of legal paperwork which covers us.”
Cat looked impressed, and Rachel was now even more curious about who this mysterious person Isla had spoken to was, who could cut through local government red tape at such short notice.
“I was thinking,” said Tel, “that we might put two members of security either side of the walkway, so that they can open car doors and usher people in, and avoid any interference or harassment.”
“That’s an excellent plan,” said Rach. “Rose, are you okay to stay here and do the bag searches and id checks? And either myself or Cat will do the welcomes. We want to try and ensure that people feel safe, even with the disruption outside.”
Plan in place, all that was left to do now, was wait.
About fifteen minutes before it was due to open, people started arriving and Rose and Tel made a quick judgement call and let them in.
“We can always keep people here in the foyer, and point them in the direction of the café,” Tel said to Rachel. “It’s better than leaving them outside.”
Rachel agreed wholeheartedly. The first group were a gaggle of queers who seemed to take great delight in roaring absurdities at the protesters outside as they made their way down the walkway.
“I’m so sorry,” said Rachel, as she welcomed them. “We really had hoped to avoid any of that sort of nonsense.”