After a busy week, I was looking forward to my session with one of my favourite clients. I preceded Kitten into one of the back rooms and quietly closed the door behind us. She was an attractive woman with piercing green eyes and wavy, brown hair.
Standing face-to-face, Kitten handed me her headband, complete with little ears.
I took it and slid it onto her head, pulling her hair off her face. “Beautiful.”
She mewled, hands held up like paws. There was a lot of stigma around pet play, as it was misunderstood. It meant different things for different people. For Kitten, it meant an hour of being pampered and not having to talk.
I ruffled her hair. “Go explore.”
She crawled around the room on all fours. After a minute, she found a small ball I’d placed in the corner and batted it with her hand. It stopped by my feet, and I kicked it back, letting her chase it around the room.
After a while of playing together, I climbed to my feet and sank into the chair. “Come here.”
Kitten pranced over on all fours and dropped her head into my lap, her long hair tickling my thighs.
“You’re such a good girl.” I stroked her hair.
She nuzzled my leg, and the sense of protectiveness I felt was an endorphin high all of its own. My heart also went out to Kitten. Like me, she was a business manager and nearing forty. Unlike me, her kink, fetish, call it what you will, was something she guarded like a fortress.
Libellule’s was the only place she could completely surrender her mind and body in the way that fulfilled her, without being ridiculed. When Kitten started to topple sideways, I guided her onto her side on the sheepskin rug.
Once there, I slid out of the chair and snuggled up behind her, stroking her hair and running the back of my fingers up and down her arms. These sessions were as therapeutic for her as they were for me.
A commotion in the hallway made my blood boil. Not only was it unacceptable, it had also interrupted my session before it was over. Reining in my irritation, I roused Kitten and motioned for her to climb into the cage.
“Good girl. I’ll be right back.”
I stepped into the hallway, and anger surged through me. Two of my employees, Lola and Ruby, had a death grip on the last person I wanted to see—Tiffany.
“What the hell’s going on?” I demanded.
“She tried to barge in,” Lola said.
Juliet was leaning against the wall, hugging herself as if she was in physical pain. “Please, just go.”
“Fuck you.” Tiffany glared, spittle flying out of her mouth. “Your boss told me I had a freebie, and I’m here to cash it in.”
That was news to me, and it was never going to happen. Not on my watch. I motioned for Lola and Ruby to release her, and Ruby immediately went to Juliet, hugging her protectively.
Loudmouthed people didn’t scare me. They were generally all noise. “Please leave.”
“Who asked you? I want to speak to the manager.”
Oh, this was going to be good. I gave her a sardonic smile. “I am the manager.”
“What?” The look of surprise on Tiffany’s face was laughable. “Since when?”
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Please leave.”
“And if I don’t?”
I didn’t have time for this shit, and frogmarching Tiffany out was a waste of my energy. “You’ve got two minutes before I call the cops.”
A smug smile pulled at Tiffany’s mouth. “Oh, really? You want to bring the cops to your door?” She scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
She wasn’t as stupid as I thought. Or maybe she was. I didn’t want the cops to come calling any more than Tiffany did.
“Time’s up.” I held up my phone, calling her bluff and waiting to see if she would call mine.
“Fuck you.” She flipped me the bird and marched out.
“In your dreams, lady,” Lola yelled after her. “And don’t come back.”
I clapped my hands. “Show’s over, ladies. Back to work. Ruby, Lock the back door. No one’s to enter without a prior appointment.”
“Sure.” Ruby did my bidding.
Juliet gave me a weak smile and disappeared into the bathroom. I wanted to check in with her, but that would have to wait. I had a client to get back to.
I returned to the room I’d just vacated, gutted to see a once-relaxed Kitten on high alert, nose pressed against the cage, eyes wide. I undid the latch. “Come here, girl.”
She crawled out, looking at me like a cat who trusted their human to keep them safe.
“Are you okay?” I stroked her hair.
She nodded, and I removed the headband. With that gone, her entire demeanour changed. She was back to the businesswoman she presented to the outside world.
She stuffed her kitten ears in her handbag and slipped her feet back into her high heels. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just an excitable client.” I smiled to reassure her. “She got a little too playful.”
“Right.” Kitten dragged out the word as if she didn’t believe me.
The door was solid wood and sealed tight, but that didn’t mean it was soundproof. She would’ve heard muffled parts of the altercation.
Hating that Tiffany had made my client feel unsafe, I picked up Kitten’s coat and helped her into it. “Come on. I’ll see you safely to your car.”
After escorting Kitten out, I went in search of Juliet. Cynthia, our cleaner, appeared out of nowhere, almost running face first into me.
“Whoa. Slow down.”
“Sorry. Ruby asked me to give these to Lola.” She held up some dental dams.
“I’ll do it.” I took them from her, memories of Ruby and Lola setting up Sadie coming back to me. If this was a trick, Lola’s head was going to roll.
She pretended to be cool with me being the boss, but I sensed otherwise. I tapped once and entered. The only one in the room was Lola. She had her back to me, and her skirt was so short I didn’t have to guess if she was wearing any underwear. The scant bit of fabric was so thin, she might as well not have bothered.
I handed over the dental dams. “You requested these.”
“Thanks. Where’s Cynthia?”
“Doing her job.”
Lola waved the packets in my face. “If she was doing her job right, I wouldn’t have had to ask for these.”
Irritation prickled along my skin. “Do you have a point to make? An axe to grind?”
“Nope. Why would I? She’s the cleaner.”
There was no mistaking the barely disguised sarcasm in her voice, and I didn’t like it. “She might be the cleaner, but that doesn’t make her your bitch. Got it?”
Disdain flitted across Lola’s face. “Got it.”
Whatever was going on, I needed to nip it in the bud before it took over like a noxious weed. “Is there something going on between you two?”
“Nope. Why? Is there something going on between you two? That seems to be a thing around here.” Lola’s gaze was challenging.
It took all of two seconds to register what she meant and equally as fast to rein in my agitation. I refused to bite or defend myself. I liked Cynthia a great deal, but there was nothing going on between us, nor would there ever be.
If Lola didn’t have her head so far up her arse, all bent out of shape because she hadn’t known our last cleaner had been living with the boss for practically the entire time she worked at Libellule’s, she’d be able to see Kahu had a much higher chance of sneaking under my defences.
“Watch yourself, Lola. You seem to forget who’s running the place now.” I paused, letting the tension build. “And I’ll fuck who I like. If that includes the cleaner, it’s none of your business. Understood?”
“Understood,” Lola said.
I turned to leave, and Lola muttered something about cleaners receiving special treatment. As tempted as I was to give her an attitude adjustment, I let it go. Maybe she was hormonal. That thought stopped me in my tracks.
“Shouldn’t you be working in the front rooms this week?” All employees were also trained beauticians. When they were menstruating, they stuck to the above-board services: manicures, pedicures, facials, massages.
She waved the dental dams in my face, her expression mocking. “Not at all. I’ve got these.”
My last thread of patience reached breaking point. Hormonal or not, her attitude was unacceptable. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re skating on thin ice. Sort it out, or use the door.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I don’t make threats.” I waited for Lola to keep pushing, but she finally dropped the attitude.
“Sorry. I’ve got some shit going on at home.”
“Take some leave if you need to, but don’t bring it to work. I have a business to run, and clients want happy people, not drama.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Some people love all the angst.” The hint of a smile graced Lola’s lips.
“Better.” I turned and left the room.