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“What if there aren’t enough people?”
Helen shook her head. “You know how this works. People who came from far away want to make sure they get good seats, so they come early. The locals straggle in. Then there are the people in-between coming here right after business dinners or after waiting five hours for their dates to get ready. If an inexperienced talent could pack the place last year, what do you think someone like you will do?”
That was the rub. Midnight hadn’t explicitly named Monique as the main attraction that night. They usually didn’t name the sub out of respect and to build intrigue. Instead, the fliers and emails said, “The Experienced Madam, Coming to Us from Her Manoir on the Hill.”It sounded like a grand re-debut. As if Monique had gone into retirement, never to be heard from again until this night.
Still, that wasn’t what made her the most nervous.
“Don’t think about that woman.” Helen stroked her cheek. “It won’t do you any good.”
“We’re doing this because of that woman.”
“No, we’re not.”
Monique looked at her, her Helen, the woman she let into her heart. “We’re not?”
“We’re doing this for us.” Helen cupped both hands around Monique’s cheeks, “To make our future easier, and to test the last of our limits.” Her hands went from Monique’s face to her arms. “If you go out there thinking this is about that woman, then you’ll falter. Don’t think about anyone but me. That’s what the people want to see anyway.”
“You’re not worried about your reputation?”
Helen laughed at that. “My reputation? You’re kidding, right? If anything, this will bring me more business than ever. People who have never heard of me will know who I am. People who have heard of me will see how strong I am. And people who know me will respect me more. It’s different for dominants, Monique.”
“I know. Trust me, I do.” Women who tossed their bodies about always got less respect than the ones baring themselves to the world. Well, unless they were Monique Grant, experienced submissive extraordinaire.
“If our plan works, that woman will be out of your life forever.”
“Don’t put conditions on it, Helen. My mind is already running in all the different ways this can go wrong.”
“And don’t think like that.” Helen pulled her into an embrace, which instantly settled the nerves fraying within Monique.Can I stay here forever?Her scent, her heat, her love… could a woman ask for more?Safety.Usually, Helen’s arms were safe. Tonight, she wasn’t so sure…
“I’ll be fine once we start…”
“Do you remember everything we went over?”
“Of course.” Monique stepped out of her Mistress’s hold and looked out the window again. People were settling into their seats. Bets were placed over this and that. Servers made the rounds with drinks and buttons that would let them make donations throughout the night. Monique’s goal was to make them press it as many times as possible.
No pressure.
“You’ll do great, Queen.”
She shed the robe. A few feet away were the clothes she and Helen decided were best for that night. “Tonight I’m nobody’s queen.” Silk and lace filled her fingers as she looked at her naked body in the mirror, defiant. “Not even yours, Helen. I’m the Alpha of this Pack, and you’ll do well to remember that.”
Grinning, Helen stepped toward the door. “As you wish, Madam.”
Indeed, the experienced madam was about to make her grand re-debut.
The chatter in the room was deafening. Businessmen who hadn’t seen each other in years were suddenly old pals again. Women commiserated over spoiled kids, rich husbands, and the latest trend of candle wax going around the area. Workers struggled to hear the guests’ requests over the rabble. The orderly rabble, of course.
Almost every chair was filled. The raised seats and tables around the center stage held not only the richest people in the region but in the world – they could afford those premium seats. Monique wasn’t embarrassed to see Etta and Jamie sitting toward the front, the latter’s sapphire collar glistening every time she slightly turned her head. If anything, it comforted Monique knowing her friends were there. It gave her someone to focus on.
Jem and Gwyneth were there, slipping money to other people as they placed bets.About what?If it were really Monique? If she would come too soon?If Jacqueline will show up?
She didn’t see that woman. She had looked.
Yet there were other familiar faces. The Manoir was closed for the night, since this would be prime advertisement. So everyone, including Sybil with her toned-down style, sat together off to the side. Mr. Carlisle was a respectable distance from any scene he might cause with the pissed-off ladies on Sybil’s side.
The Anderssens tittered at a private table up on the balconies. Sam Witherspoon and a group of friends took over another table, downing drink after drink in preparation for the show. Monique saw the illustrious Kathleen Allen, perhaps the richest woman in her own right, sitting with Eve at a table that was clearly reserved for only women.Eve will leave.Her job was to drum up interest, but there was no way she would stick around to see her big sister do what she was about to do.Thank God.
Bankers. Politicians. CEOs. If there were a rich man or woman with any interest in BDSM, they were there that night. Monique's worries that there wouldn’t be enough buzz were put to rest once she saw staff running around, forcing more space for people to sit and still see the stage. VIP rooms were stuffed. Bartenders worked overtime to keep the drinks flowing on schedule. The coat check overflowed.
