Miss Boss Man

Chapter One

- Boss, are you listening?

Fingers snapping appeared before his face and made him flicker his lids a few perplexed times.

- Hello-o-o!

Distorted shimmers of light penetrated his pupil like a haze of dots, making his cornea a little dry and arising a need to rub moist into his eyes again. He grimaced exasperated. Would it be wrong if he broke his snapping-frickin’-fingers without any warning? It took him a few moments to focus his eyesight fully.

Adam Rich, owner of Hot Spot graced him with a petulant look. What he met was a fairly irritated bartender, tapping his foot on the rail attached to the lower part of the counter, with an expectant stare upon him. What?! He wanted to scream the four-letter word and throw up his arms in abandon. Temper be damned! Count to ten, his inner voice negotiated. He let his eyes fall back on the goddess they were on a few moments ago. Sometimes it stunk to be the boss. People always assumed he had all the answers. Which he usually did, but tonight? Not so much… He was well aware of his temporarily shortcomings and it was pissing him off. He made an agitated grunt without meaning to make notice that he was affected at all. Something, or maybe he should call it, someone, was disturbing his focal point on business tonight and he was all about business. It was his livelihood after all and his life as it was right now. Even if it was a boring life, it was one nonetheless.

- What?

He replied without taking his eyes off the gorgeous voluptuous woman on the dance floor. Long cinnamon curls were swishing against the lower of her back. What he wouldn’t give to fist it and wrap it tightly around his wrist while he devoured her lush mouth. Uninvited images started to take form in his already jumbled mind. Images of him making a commencing act of owning her complete attention. He wouldn’t settle for anything less after all. So when she gave her yes and she would, he would set her straight on his requirements of her as his sub.

- Can I skip out early tonight?

Adams brows furrowed in momentary confusion. Hadn’t he just given Jake the week off as far as he recollect? He needed someone to tend the bar tonight. Saturday was their busiest day of the week. Jake knew this. He was the damn best bartender on staff he had by far. He was a regular Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Rarely, and that was with emphasize – there was a pair of dry panties by the bar, whenever he was working his magic. A smirk kicked up the curb of his lips. Mojo – as Jake often referred to it as. Like that super geeky spy Austin Powers. Although Jake didn’t look much geeky to Adam, so he would never associate him with Mike Myers. The tousled sandy brown hair looked like something straight out of the fashion magazines. That is, opposed to his slightly curly mop of chocolate brown swirls.

Usually he cut his curls very short to tame them, but somehow his hair always, always curled by his temples and on his nape. If he didn’t love his mom and grammy so damn much, he would have cursed the women a mile, a long time ago for their obnoxious gene pool that ran in his family.

- Jake, I just gave you last week off for personal reasons and we have a full house tonight. So get your ass back to work.

Adam looked down the bar and caught a glimpse of his newly hired bartender, Terry, in action. He sighed and shook his head. He was still a bit unsure if he’d made the right choice about her. Terry had no coordination whatsoever and fumbled most of the times. A loud crash sounded and currently snapped him out of his evasive thoughts. He started down towards her, pushing passed Jake and Jenna his other bartender on for tonight and his already fragile temper caught up with him momentarily. It seemed futile. He needed to let out some steam.

- Terry, that’s a 300 hundred-dollar bottle Whiskey. Damn it!

- Sorry boss.

The girl looked down intimidated, like he was going to strike her for her mistake or maybe fire her. He’d rather cut his hand off before striking a person in rage. Specifically none as skittish as Terry. He was no violent brute; he only brooded, bickered and ranted. Although he did that to an A-plus. Well the last he might. But the girl had only been at the club for a few weeks and there was something about the poor girl that spoke to his soft heart. When he’d hired her, she’d looked almost ready to blow over from exhaustion and hunger. She’d looked like she needed a place to get her bearings together, so he’d offered her a in his establishment and one of the rooms in the back as a place to crash, until she got her life back on track. Maybe he should rethink that? The job. He would never throw her out. He shuttered by the thought. No. He was definitely not cruel and uncaring. Maybe he should just give her a different spot on his floor.

- Yeah, I know, but have you seriously checked out that honey on the dance floor. Wouldn’t mind giving it to her tonight... He snickered. – If you know what I mean?

A low wolf-whistle sounded. He’d completely forgotten about Jake. He snatched the metal clipboard under his arm and looked at his watch. He had a meeting with a supplier in 15 minutes. The ”club” needed some new playthings…

After a deep breath to try and restore some of his famous patience, Adam followed the road of sight Jake’s eyes were on. Unaware, his fists automatically clenched and he had to restrain himself from grabbing the pup by his shirt collar. Jake was a notorious womanizer and Adam wasn’t letting him anywhere near his woman. Yeah that’s right. She’s mine! An insistent voice sounded in his head. His gaze slid down the swaying hair flowing to the beat of the rhythm, surpassing the waist and straight to her ass. His cock responded instantly. That was some ass he wouldn’t mind to paddle after hours. He’d love to see those luscious globes turn pink by his 3x7 inch custom-made paddle.

A paddle he hadn’t used on any woman before, but somehow he wanted to brand this woman with it. He’d had it made a few years back, when he was engaged to his ex. Well - not as a particular gift for her per se, but as a basic need to brand his woman, once he’d gotten married. He would probably have introduced her to it, but she chose to walk out on him a few weeks before their wedding, by hooking up with his best friend and best man. Nice feeling getting stood up, he thought sarcastically. Bitch, he muttered under his breath. He knew that Brett and Nicola – Nic – was expecting their first child together and happily married now. He shook his head to try and distract the train of thought he was on. He did not want to go there. Been there, lived it, not much fun, I’m so over it!  

What was it about this particular woman that made him, want to bend her over and spank her, just to see the intricate patterns and his initials decorate the fine shapes of her delicious bum? Because it would mark her as yours stupid, a little voice told him. Hey! Cut out the insults! He drew an exhausted sigh. Yeah, he knew all this. He was a Dom and his inner dominant was definitely rattling the cages in his mind and body. He felt like a simmering pot, reading to explode with just the right spice combined. You might as well just succumb to the damned need and drag her away by the hair, like the caveman you are at heart. He flexed his strained muscles around the metal clipboard. He was drilling it into his ribs.

- Get back to work, twerp. He slapped Jake in the back of his head and stepped away from the twenty-something punk. He glances down at his clipboard again. Yeah, these things he had to be here for. He stepped around Jenna. The counter was about 18 feet long and made out of walnut tree, which meant that every bartender had about 6 feet to cover per person. He shook his head. He would definitely have to find another bartender and reassign Terry to a different spot. Maybe waitress or in the kitchen, safely hidden away from trouble and the crowds. She did not seem comfortable at all as a bartender. His head automatically lowered and his shoulders hiked up, when he heard a second crash. Fuck. If she kept dropping 300 hundred-dollar bottles, he would be out of business by March next year.

- Sorry boss.

The small voices seemed pleading to him. As if hoping he would put her out of her misery and give another task to manage. Damn it. He exhaled a deep breath and felt rather lightheaded. Maybe he was coming down with something. Nah. It was just Terry who was bad for business. When tonight was over, he was reassigning her and come Monday, he would start hiring new people. Meanwhile he might as well tend bar, after the meeting with the suppliers. He pushed up the hatch by the end of the counter and noiselessly put it down again. Pushing people aside, he stepped through the throng of people glued to his counter, just to get a new shot or round by Jake the flirt.

A bit father down by the wall he pushed against the black door that said – VIP’s only. On the inside, Bear was standing tall and broad shouldered. The man had to be well over 6 foot and 5 inches. Built like a pro wrestler. He was his life-size Hulk.

- Hi Boss. Busy eve?

- You know it, Bear.

Adam smiled to the huge bear-like security person guarding the second entry to his club. Strangers to his club might think, why did he need a second guard and why did the door say – VIP’s only. Well, disguise was his life, he thought ironically to himself. Hot Spot wasn’t any typical club. It housed the biggest Underground Club in Austin, Texas. “Underground Club” was really synonym for “Sex Club”. But it sounded so much better and none inquiring for outside people. People outside the world of Bondage, Domination and Submission. He hated dealing with bigoted people who played judge and jury by something they didn’t understand. He opened the door by the end of the narrow anodyne hallway. It gave nothing away about what was hiding behind that specific door, he thought to himself as he pushed it open.

The door – and it really was – let him to so downhill old well-worn stairs, which he took two at a time, not paying any attention to the supporting railing by his sides. He looked down at his watch again. Three more minutes to go. Sprinkles of sweat damped his temples. Supplier’s really hated waiting and he did not want these guys to just disappear without dropping his products off. Electrical torches were decorating the stony walls. Made it look ancient and dungeon like. Just the look he’d gone for, when he built this secret passage to his baby. The passage led to a second door, about fifty feet away from where he came from. He pushed the heavy wooden door up and was surrounded with the familiar scent of sex, vanilla from the air fresheners and leather. The crack of a swinging belt making contact with nude skin welcomed him. He breathed in deep. This was the place where he felt at home. Felt like him.

- Hey Adam. Good to see you again.

- You too, Lucy. New sub?

He nodded towards the guy on the floor by his Mistress’s feet with his eyes pinned to the wooden floor below his knees. Somehow he’d always wondered if some of the poses a sub was required to present him or herself in didn’t hurt like a bitch. He quickly disparaged himself of the thought. Man, he’d been away from the scene to long, if he started thinking those kinds of thoughts. A quick glance at the sub, made him notice the red marks painting his back. Familiar warmth ignited in the pit of his stomach and spread through his whole system like a bonfire. Realizing, he hadn’t had a sub in so long and the woman upstairs was really playing a number on him.

- Nah, well… She nodded as if trying to decide how to explain and continued. – Yeah, well, kind of. I’m training him for a friend of mine.

Adam narrowed his eyes. He knew these processes happened all around the scene, but t him, that particular thing of training a sub by passing them amongst Doms and Dommes was just lost on him. He sighed longingly. He wanted hands-on action with his sub, so she turned out just perfectly to his liking. He was very controlling and it might have been why it didn’t work out with Nic. Brett was into the scene as well. Adam had met Nicola in his club, fell in love with her over time, the more he saw her doing scenes around his club. Invitingly, she used to scene. Nic didn’t have a Dom before he’d collared her seven years ago.

- Okay. Sounds strange, but whatever. I trust you know what you’re doing. He smiled and kissed her cheek dismissively. – I’ll have to catch up with you later, hun. Suppliers are waiting for me.

Another kiss and he was off. He was on a tight schedule. He tapped his watch stressfully. Thirty seconds to go. Once he’d turned up just two minutes late, because he’d been held up by old acquaintances and the suppliers had left a letter saying – On the DOT! Make a new appointment for drop-off! Just the thought of it, made cold shivers run down his back. It’d turned into a disaster. Same evening he’d planned to have a big demonstration about the Safe aspect of BDSM. Safe, Sane and Consensual was the three laws obliged to meet for entering his club.

One of his regular Doms was supposed to demonstrate a scene in bondage with his sub. But because he’d turned up to late – damn two minutes – Shake off the anger, Adam or just get laid dude – the suppliers had taken off with his paraphernalia for the scene and he’d had to reschedule. That had cost him a nights worth of sold merchandise. He not only ran a club, he also sold the playthings for the scenes. You made up for it by scening with an experienced submissive. He smiled at the thought. True. He had. People had been bitching about not seeing him in action enough and that’s how he’d made psychical contact with Nic. She was the sub he’d chosen over the hordes of willing women that night. What a huge mistake, he shook his head in disappointment and a little sadness he hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the sweet life she was living and here he was – hiding out in his Underground Club – with nothing to show for it… Life was just not fair.

With a brisk pace he quickly strode across the floor of his dome, housing the lounge of his club. A big round bar was risen from the middle, being one with the floor, it was cutting away the rays of the sun the counter symbolized, and curbing into tables, with barstools to occupy, while waiting for a particular scene to begin. In his precious dome, along the walls, twelve incurved doors with numbers. Some could or possibly would say he was laying his love in the wrong place. On the other hand, he thought to himself. Businesses didn’t cheat on you and it never complained, unless it was facing bankruptcy and he was far from that happening anytime soon.

Behind every numbered dark cherry door a scene was talking place. Whether voyeurs would gather to sit and watch, or stand in the back and discuss the scene was completely individual. Of course, proceeded in a hushed manner and without disturbing the couple on the heightened elevation in the floor up front. It was pivotal to his business that everybody felt respected and comfortable. That was why he’d made his club back then. It was meant as a sanctuary, where Doms and subs were able to have a personal, as well as sexual outlet for their kinks in a safe and protected environment.

Adam was well aware that many came in the club as a means to socialize. The community was truly a tight knit group, sometimes socializing outside of his club, because you didn’t have to keep up appearances here. You could come as clothed as you’d like. Or unclothes, he thought with a juvenile smirk, as he passed a sub in a leather Speedo, which had to be very uncomfortable by the way in appeared to sneer in the crotch area. Ouch. A black narrow leather collar with dotted silvery imprinted scribbles, was decorating his neck. Custom-made, Adam figured. He’d only ever given his collar once. To Nic. He expelled that train of thought again. It had been three years and apparently his bane of existence.

Looking closely, Adam could spot a sheer contentment with the subs clothing – even though it might be hell to wear. He suspected the reason was Mistress Ann holding the leash and letting him sip from her drink, while she fondled his behind lovingly. With an ambiguous feeling of this stomach dropping into his feet, he pushed open the door that said; Personnel Only and disappeared from plain sight.

* * *

Skylar took a deep breath when the VIP’s only door slammed shut behind the nerve wrecking man. She’d noticed him the moment she and her girlfriends had dragged her into Hot Spot. It was this big time club that had been around for ages, but was also difficult to get into, because so many wanted to. Apparently, you had to know someone, who knew someone, who knew someone else, who was second cousins, yada, yada, yada. So when Jamie had shown up at by her cubicle at work, with an ear-splitting grin and a VIP card, dangling between her manicured nails, Skylar had shrugged and thought; why the hell not? She’d just broken up with her no-good boyfriend of four years anyway. Why should she not go out and have some fun and leave her troubles behind, even if it was only for one night.

• From the bartender.

Skylar looked up at the waitress with confusion shining bright in her big violet eyes. The waitress pointed to a blond handsome Adonis, who’d probably just stepped out of a fashion magazine, with twinkling eyes and apparently a bigger ego than the size of Texas. He winked and mouthed – later, babe! Skylar grimaced with disgust. What a sleazebag! Ugh. She crossed her arms dismissively. She was so going lesbian, she thought ruefully. At least women had a bit more decorum and discretion. On the other hand no, she thought ironically. That brought a playful smirk to her lips. Her sister, London, was out of the closet and just as blatantly crude at times. Okay, so no lesbian for her.

She pushed the drink across the table; when the waitress left in an obvious huff that made her heels, sound even louder on the hardwood floors. What was her problem? Maybe she’s jealous, a little voice intervened. A guy like that didn’t come across as skeleton less to her. He probably had a second or third closet here, just to have a place to keep all of his groupies’ phone numbers.

- Anyone?

- I love free drinks.

The appreciative hum in London’s voice, made Skylar shake her head slightly as her sisters’ remark. She had to keep an eye on her sister’s alcohol intake tonight, or else she was having her crash at her apartment later and she really, really didn’t want that. London was noisy as hell, like an elephant in a glass store. Snoring because of her drunkenness, stumbling around to get to the bathroom to puke out her guts. That was just a few to name.

- How many have you had London?

- Stop being such a stick in the mud sis and lighten up. Have some fun; you’ve deserved it from that lacklustre, Henry. Have drink, you must be parched listening to him go on and on about wonkily cellulites.

London pushed the drink across the table again. Strawberry daiquiri was her favourite and the bartender was a lucky guess. Skylar sighed and took a huge sip. Felt the cold drink run down her dry throat and settle nicely in her belly, while drawing a path of relentless heat with it.

- Just so you know London. He’s a biologist. Molecular cells, as in DNA.

Skylar really didn’t get the sudden feeling of having to defend herself. She’d known this when she started dating Henry right out of university. Her sister hated him and hadn’t held back the venom whenever she had a chance to slither it in, like a snake waiting for a delicious kill.

- As in gee-e-e-k! Dear swester. You’ll thank me some day.

- Huh?

- Never mind.

The darting eyes and change in London’s demeanour made Skylar slightly suspicious. Her sister was a manipulative little snake whenever it took her. She always got her way. A trade Skylar had hated ever since childhood. So what the fuck was she up to and why did she have the gnawing feeling it included her?

To be continued!!!!