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“Thank you for your patronage, Ms. Witherspoon. I will be sure to praise Chelsea for a job well done so she will continue tobe happy here… and so you will continue to liven us up with your presence, of course.”
“I look forward to my next visit. Perhaps in three weeks or so. I’ll let you know.”
“And I’ll make sure Chelsea is informed.”
“Do so. Coming, Helen?”
The taller woman remained still even as her friend began for the door. Before Ms. Witherspoon even knew she was alone, Helen extended a hand to Monique and said, “Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Grant. I’d still like to hear the long story someday.”
Monique smiled, but she did not confirm she would ever do such a thing. She did, however, grasp Helen’s hand as an offer of civility… her warm, smooth hand that was twice as big as Monique’s and covered her palm, her fingers, and nearly her wrist with one touch.
Their eyes met in that second. Monique shook hands with and looked at many refined people since opening her business, but this was the first time – perhaps the second, since meeting Helen – that she felt something strange in the pit of her stomach and a flurry in her chest. What was it? She hadn’t felt something like that in years. Not even with Jacqueline had she ever felt such tenderness. That firm, yet gentle handshake was the kind of thing she had always searched for since she knew what this lifestyle was.
For Monique was a woman who wanted it firm, but tender and loving all the same. She dreamed of a woman who would not relent but still heed her wishes and desires. She had long figured that such women did not exist. To be sure, putting that sort of pressure on Helen within one day would be foolhardy, and Monique was not a stupid woman. Jaded, sure, but not…
“Thank you for visiting, Ms. Warner,” she said, mastering the blush attempting to overcome her cheeks. She dropped her hand from Helen’s and turned to the side. “Do take care. I hope tosee you again.” Monique felt that gaze lingering on her body as she slowly ascended the grand staircase and went to check in on Chelsea and the others.
Helen left the premises. She did not leave Monique’s mind.
Chapter 3
Her Gilded Cage
The only time smoking was allowed on the premises was when it was done in the one designated lounge on the second floor. Clients didn’t like being told they couldn’t smoke in the ladies’ rooms, but they soon learned to be mindful of health and, well, the smell.
Such a smell Monique encountered when she stepped into the Cigar Lounge to take inventory. It was reserved that night by a few businessmen looking to have a private place to discuss their current events and maybe enjoy a show by one of the residents.Finally, something for Yvette to do.Better than watching her sit on the balcony drinking wine because she refused to hang out with any clients. She would, at least, put on a demonstration as long as nobody expected to touch her.She makes a fantastic dominatrix.
Grace followed her into the Cigar Lounge, where Monique told her what to order. They rarely hurt for Cuban cigars, embargo orno embargo. Still, there was an air of the forbidden around them, and clients tended to dive straight for an old-fashioned Cuban above anything else. Monique made Grace order some, anyway.
“Madam Grant!” One of the maids appeared in the doorway, her chest heaving with heavy breaths. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to see you.”
Monique swiftly turned. “Who? The police?” It was too early in the afternoon for most clients. The only people who searched for her during the day usually had legal concerns.
“No, ma’am. A woman. Helen Warner.”
What?She hadn’t seen nor heard from Helen in a few days. Not since she came as Ms. Witherspoon’s guest.I never thought I would see her again. She must have forgotten something. Something so important that she couldn’t call and ask Monique to ship it to her.
Sure enough, Ms. Helen was standing in the foyer, another maid taking her coat and checking her shoes to make sure she had no mud ready to track through the premises. It had rained the night before.
“Ms. Helen.” Monique stepped down the staircase as quickly as she dared. “To what do I owe this surprising pleasure?”
She certainly looked more put together than she had the morning Monique last saw her. A new dress – a demure beige that looked cheerful for the season, but still serious enough for a woman of her station – clung to her body in such a way that Monique stopped and wondered about what she kept beneath.Now? At a time like this?
“Good afternoon. I hope I’m not interrupting your business… or is it a day off for you?”
Wednesdays were an odd day for a visit, but they weren’t closed. The ladies had their weekends on Monday and Tuesday unless otherwise arranged, but Monique stayed busy every day. “We are open if that’s what you’re asking. We’re simply not usedto having guests at this time. Did you forget something the other day?”
Helen stepped back as if Monique’s words were a club smacking her in the chest.Did I offend?“No, no. Everything is fine. If I could talk with you privately?”
Monique shooed away the onlookers and escorted Helen into the front salon, where she turned down a glass of anything and instead perched on the edge of a chair, large hands folded in her lap. Monique took a seat on the sofa across from her and asked once more what she could do for Helen.
“I suppose I should get right to it,” she said. “I was wondering if you could give me a tour of your grounds and perhaps introduce me to some of your employees.”
That was it? Why did she come here unannounced for something like that? Nevertheless, Monique would not pry. She didn’t want to scare off a new, rich client. “I hadn’t realized you were into this sort of thing, Ms. Helen.”
“Perhaps I have a long story or two of my own, Monique.”
Now there was a surprise. Monique retained her demeanor, but inside her brain whirled with images of Ms. Helen Warner tying up a woman and whispering filth into her ear. Monique had these thoughts about most of her clients. She must, to anticipate what they might like and what she could do to ensure their satisfaction so they would keep coming back and paying more. But this was the first time since opening her doors that she felt… aroused?... by the act. These effects Helen had on her were starting to get to her in ways she couldn’t afford.
