Isn't Vanilla a Spice? Ch. 01

"I completely understand," Cami agreed. "The BDSM scene here is much more open and welcoming. And there's the ball coming up if you are looking for a sub."

I raised one eyebrow. "Looking for a sub? I'm a submissive myself," I responded.

"Oh!" Cami's reaction was comical. She clapped one hand over her mouth and blushed a deep red. "I just thought...with the vinyl pants...."

Glancing down, I again wondered if I were dressed incorrectly. "Should I be wearing something else?"

"Um, submissives don't wear pants at Lashesexxx--ever," Cami elucidated.

Now it was my turn to flush a bright red. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." Stupid! Stupid! I castigated myself. "My foster Dom always ordered me to wear this behind the bar. His sister owned Magnolia. I should change," I worried.

"No, no, it should be fine. As you said, you didn't know. And the owner should be here soon," Cami soothed.

That was the other thing troubling the back of my mind. "Katrina said he had to help his friend with an emergency?"

"Ugh! Yes! He had to go along with his friend to explain to a Dom and sub that they were being blackballed in the community. They had put out some revenge porn of another friend of his, the Dom's former sub."

My eyes widened. Even without BDSM being involved, that was an egregious sin. In a community that valued discretion and honesty, yes, I agreed that the person needed to be blackballed.

"I met him once, the first day I came here. He made my skin crawl," Cami resumed, shuddering. "Abusive more than a Dom; even a novice Dom or sub could tell."

"Yuck," I concurred. Threading cherries on a swizzle stick, I nestled the laden stirrer atop a glass of hard seltzer and placed it on Katrina's waiting tray. Katrina and Cami nodded.

With a wink, Katrina whisked the tray away. "This is for Mac; he's just getting off of work."

"Mac?" I questioned the air only to see Katrina delivering the drink to the meathead bouncer.

Cami shrugged. "Mac's Katrina's Dom."

"Wait, what? Katrina, sweet, bubbly Katrina serves...him?" I'm fairly sure that my expression revealed how disgusted I was.

Draining her ginger ale, Cami nodded. "I take it your meet cute was not so...cute?"

Whatever I had started to respond was interrupted by the doors banging open. A darkly handsome man entered in a three piece suit that seemed appropriate for the high-end club as well as for a business meeting. He turned slightly to call out to a person still outside.

I nodded in the man's direction. "A member?" Maybe it would be best if I started looking for a prospective Dom to keep my mind from drifting to Ryan.

"Yes. That's Sir Scott. He's the owner's friend. That means that the boss man will have returned." Cami's words increased my nervousness. If this man were a close friend of the club's owner, I would need to impress him with my mixology skills, as well.

"Cami," he muttered curtly, acknowledging her with barely a glance. His attention shifted to me. "You must be the new mixologist that I've heard so much about." He extended a hand, and I realized that he also thought my catsuit indicated a dominance I did not possess. "Scott Williams."

"Call me M," I intoned, striving to sound both confident and mysterious. "May I prepare you anything?"

"I really shouldn't have anything too strong; I'm on my lunch break. What do you suggest?" Sir Scott looked consideringly at me.

I stepped back, sizing him up. One hand reached for a small knife; the other grasped an orange. I quickly peeled several strips of zest, minus the pith, and twisted each into a spiral. I fired each to lightly caramelize and warm the oil on the zest and tossed 3 into the shaker.

Next, I added a few drops of orange bitters to the shaker, followed by a few dashes of candied orange syrup I had prepared before leaving New Orleans and placed in my special bag of tricks. A handful of fresh raspberries were followed by a scoop of ice to weight the peel and berries down in the shaker. Whistling I poured a few shots of raspberry lemonade in the mix.

Cami looked on with interest as I started shaking before dividing the concoction between two tall glasses and topping each with a spritz of ginger ale. "What do you call this one?" she asked.

"All Tied up in Knots," I responded. "One of my most popular mocktails."

She sipped and smiled. "You are an absolute genius!"

"Madame Jessa felt that it was imperative to create a slate of mocktails so that drunken accidents didn't happen while scening," I explained.

Sir Scott tasted the drink and smiled; the aura of intriguing darkness within him was eclipsed by his almost boyish grin. "She's not wrong. Sobriety and BDSM are a much better mix. And this is top-notch."

The door opened again, and someone -- presumably the owner of Lashesexxx -- entered. My vision blurred a bit as I heard laughter I had not heard in two years. Cold gray eyes glinted silver in anger as he saw me.

"What in the hell are you doing here, Emma?"

Ryan.