Page 69 of At Her Pleasure
A hum rippled through the crowd, a reaction Cyn knew was shared by her and the women at her table. They all understood it, both Domme and sub, even from different angles. Had Mick kissed the skeleton cross tonight with the same thought as Alphonse?
After the tie was on, he donned socks and dress shoes. Checked the mirror and brushed his hair. The front was already drying and feathering over his brow.
Final piece. The suit coat. After he shrugged into it, he turned to the audience, sliding an easy hand into his trouser pocket, the coat panel folding over one hip. “So,” he said. “Will I please her tonight?”
That about brought the house down.
With a rakish grin, Alphonse did a spin and walked toward the back of the stage, a sexy stroll, before he exited stage left.
The thunderous applause continued as the lights rose. Spiral returned to center stage and gestured to the performers to come out and take an additional bow. Alphonse emerged with Rotgut and her pet parent slash trainer, a Vietnamese woman with a full bloom of streaked silver and black hair twisted up on her head. She wore a gold silk shirt with a chain belt over a white skirt embroidered with a gold dragon. Matching embroidered slippers had gold ribbons crisscrossed up her calves.
To equally enthusiastic cheers, Rotgut caught a treat out of the air. With a wicked grin, the trainer tossed one to Alphonse, which he snagged in a hand and then dropped to one knee before her. As he rose, the woman teasingly petted him through the fly of the suit, mouthing, “very good boy,” to a lot of laughter.
Alphonse kissed her other hand, and gave Rotgut a fond stroke. After they departed the stage, Spiral saluted the audience with a look of barely suppressed anticipation, his face wreathed in a smile.
“Enjoy the night, ladies. You’ve earned it.”
The night, with all its possibilities, had begun.
* * *
Mick was no longer in the wings. Cyn did a loop of the main traffic areas. Later tonight he’d be under her command alone, but if she had the chance to watch him work, she wouldn’t mind.
Though she hadn’t corrected what she’d told him that first night, that what he did with his dick was his own business, she bet he’d followed her initial desires, keeping his hand off himself. Suffering for her.
Ros, Vera and Skye were browsing at the Vendor Market, set up near the club’s rear bar area. Lawrence and Tiger were there, too. They leaned against a high top, not far from where the women were shopping.
Amused, Cyn noted they had a table card, the words written in Ros’s recognizable black script.
Taken. Move on, bitches.
“Taken” was double underlined.
When she reached Ros and raised a questioning brow toward the men, her boss made a face. “A lot of guest Dommes are here tonight. Tiger and Lawrence could barely take a swallow of their drinks before one was checking to see if they were available for play.”
“That’s why you abandon subtlety. Put big ass collars on them, preferably with interior spikes so they remember not to look at anyone but you two. Some of these Dommes have no modesty. Asses in skin-tight latex, boobs hanging out.”
“Uh-huh.” Ros’s gaze swept her transparent top.
“That’s different. In this lighting, a man has to work to confirm what he thinks he’s seeing, and then I can catch him at it and punish him.”
Just as she suspected, Skye was considering corset options for Tiger, and had found one with a trio of skulls embroidered on it. As she held it up for them to see, Cyn offered an approving nod. “You put that on him,” she called to her friend, “he’ll hold onto the number two spot in my spank bank.”
“As long as he’s not number one,” Skye signed back. “That’s for me alone.”
“Greedy bitch. You get the real thing.” Cyn tossed a lascivious look at the man in question. In his hip-cocked stance, his jeans molded his lower body in their usual mouthwatering way. A Harley Davidson logoed vest was all he wore up top. As Skye brandished the corset at him, he had a dubious but willing expression.
Ros zeroed in on the important part of Cyn’s statement. “Who’s holding your number one spot?”
“Why Lawrence, of course. He gets me all creamy and dreamy, every night.” Cyn chuckled as Ros made a claw gesture toward her. Then her boss took a closer look.
“Does the nose still hurt?”
“No more than expected. Vera said I covered it well.”
“You did.” Ros paused, as if she might say more, but only linked her arm with Cyn’s and bumped her hip. A sign she was forgiven for tangling with Matt. Not that she’d asked for forgiveness, but it was nice to know. Matt and Ros had likely talked since then, and Matt had let her know they were good.
Which rankled a little, since Cyn had assured Ros they were, but Matt was Ros’s friend, and Ros hadn’t been privy to their talk on the curb. Cyn knew he’d respect her privacy on what she hadn’t been able to keep herself from saying.