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Losethem.
Frustrated with myself, I slam my locker door open and peer inside to see what outfit awaits me tonight. I’ve heard nothing to say I’ll be experiencing any of the club’s extras tonight, so I’m preparing to work behind the bar in skyscraper heels, a fake smile plastered on my face.
Inside I feel raw. Hearing my story told through the eyes of a stranger – a stranger I’ve come to care about – was hard. Having him demand I tell my version of events after was like reopening old wounds and bleeding for his curiosity.
I’ve not recovered.
Inside the locker is the slave girl outfit I never got to wear. I never checked if it was taken out, or just left in there, forgotten. The sight of it makes me feel inexplicably sad. But I don’t have any fight left in me, so I bundle it up into my arms and slip into the toilets to get changed. I can’t handle eyes on me tonight. Not when I know I look like shit. I don’t even have the handy makeup skills to disguise the fact that I was crying before I came to work.
Well tough shit. This is who I am and it’s all they’re getting from me tonight. I don’t have the energy to primp and preen and put on a show. It’s just a waitress anyway. No one cares what I look like despite North’s insistence about standards.
I dress, exit the toilets and wash my hands. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I almost don’t recognise my reflection. My eyes look flat. Hopeless. Sad.
It’s Christmas Eve. I need to push the past to one side and focus on enjoying my limited time here at the club. I smile, but it looks forced, so I drop it and try again.
“Knock, knock,” a voice comes from the other side of the toilet door. I laugh.
“Come in, Dash. I’m decent,” I call, recognising his voice.
I glance down at my outfit. I’m definitely not decent. But he’s seen me in less. Two days ago I wouldn’t have had the confidence to wear this, and I’m not sure I do now, but when Dash enters and takes me in, his eyes blaze with lust, and it definitely helps me feel a little better.
“You look….fuck me, Gumdrop.”
I giggle. “Thanks.”
“Umm, so I have something for you.”
“It’s not Christmas yet, Dash,” I tease. If anyone could make me feel better just by being in the same room as me, it’s Dash. His smile is infectious and he’s so joyful to be around. I love it.
“It’s not a Christmas gift. Not really. It’s just…something I want you to wear tonight. If that’s okay?”
“Of course.” I grin at him and this time when I catch sight of myself in the mirror I can see the difference. My smiles for Dash are all real, and there’s a flush to my cheeks that’s actually cute.
He gives me a sheepish, cheeky, adorable grin and pulls a small unmarked black box out from behind his back. “Here,” he says, passing it to me.
“Thanks.”
“Wait til you see what it is before you thank me.” He laughs. “You might hate it, Gumdrop.”
“I doubt that.”
I slip the box off the lid and my breath catches when I peer inside. I look at Dash, blushing now, and lost for words.
“I know you’re working behind the bar tonight for a bit, but we thought you could wear this until later.”
“What happens later?” I ask, ignoring that he said ‘we’. Who’s we? Will the others know I’ve got this on? Why does that make my body burn even hotter?
“You’ll see, Kitten—” he winks “—I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”
I think about Dash’s last surprise – Frost joining us when I was blindfolded – and how well that turned out for me. “Okay.”
“You’ll wear it?”
“Yes.”
He beams at me, and I tingle at his approval.
“Do you need any help putting it on?” he offers, his voice dropping seductively.
