AMÉLIE
Two days later, Amélie moved through the front doors of the Honey, having done this too many times to count but doing it then feeling strange for two reasons.
The first, she didn’t expect she’d come there again.
Perhaps it was melodramatic to think that “again” was forever. But at least for some time.
A long time.
Years.
Decades.
The second, she’d never been there at that time of day.
It was ten-thirty in the morning.
Unless a member made a special request, they weren’t normally open for business at that time. But Aryas had phoned and asked her to come in and talk about something “important.”
Although Amélie had shared just the day before with Mirabelle that things had not gone well with Olly during their weekend and that she would likely not be going to the club for some time, Aryas wouldn’t know that. This was because, at her request, Mira had sworn she’d not breathe a word and Amélie trusted to her soul her friend wouldn’t.
So she couldn’t imagine anything “important” Aryas would have to talk to her about.
And he’d sounded short, and irate, though not being in his presence she could not know if these were aimed at her.
She couldn’t imagine why that would be, unless Olivier had made some bizarre complaint (though she could not imagine that either, he was not the type).
Even so, as she made her way to the Honey to meet with Aryas, Amélie gave little thought to this idea as any complaint Olivier might make in his inexperience, Aryas would give no credence to for Amélie had done not one thing to complain about.
And further, in doing this, Olivier would expose himself to her sharing with Aryas he’d lied on his application, something that would get Olivier’s membership revoked most assuredly.
She had no idea if Olivier intended to come back to the club to find another Mistress. She couldn’t even think of it without that ball of pain re-forming in the pit of her belly, so she didn’t allow herself to think of it.
But as she and Olivier shared a common nature, albeit either side of that coin, she knew he would again go looking at some point.
And the best could be found at the Honey.
Regardless of all of this, she knew a great deal about Olivier, including the fact he had an uncontrollable and exceptionally foul temper, but also the fact that it was highly unlikely he would expose any vulnerability to Aryas. Including coming forward to make some kind of complaint about their play.
So she seriously doubted it was that.
What it could be, Amélie couldn’t fathom.
But she was about to find out.
Aryas had asked her to come directly back to his office, a room she hadn’t been in since her interview prior to joining the club years before.
The club hadn’t moved so it was doubtful Aryas’s office had. Therefore, as she walked into what she felt was eerily-lit-by-sunlight foyer of the club behind the front desk to the hall at the back of it, she moved past doors that were open and occupied by office workers who likely managed membership, accounting, playroom reservations, and the like. She also moved past doors that were closed where she knew the security and monitoring stations were, as well as the controls and equipment of other technological components of Aryas’s business.
Finally, she reached the door at the very back, which was also opened to the hall.
She stood in the frame and saw Aryas on his feet behind his handsome, large desk in his also handsome, large office, turned to the side, this putting his back to her, talking to a man that was standing there.
She gave a tap on the door even though, upon raising her hand, both men turned to look at her.
“Come in, Leigh, close the door if you don’t mind, my sweet,” Aryas invited and his tone was much more his normal self.
Amélie relaxed, moved in, closed the door, and entered the room with her eyes to the man with Aryas.
He was not as big as Aryas (or Olly), but he was much taller than her. His untucked, casual button-up shirt and jeans did not hide from her experienced eyes that his tall body was made up of lean, compacted muscle. His skin was quite tan and he had black hair with a pair of startling ice-blue eyes rimmed with exceptionally long, curling lashes.
In another time, she would be salivating at the sight of him, at the same time frustrated that a man like him most assuredly would not have a nature that would fulfill hers.
But as she moved in, those frosty-blue eyes shifted in a way that gave an impression they were not taking her in but climbing the length of her, from her red platform pumps, up her gray slacks, black blouse, all the way to her hair.
And Amélie was experienced. Experienced enough to know the way he was looking at her, regardless of the fact that his expression was carefully blank, with where he was standing and what happened in that building, he was attempting to understand which way she swung.
And with her experience, she was shocked to sense that this man swung the other way.
Of course it would occur that after years of going hungry, she’d be in the presence of another scrumptious specimen at a time when she had absolutely no interest because she was in love with another man.
“This is Branch Dillinger, Leigh. He’s my PI,” Aryas introduced.
She turned startled eyes to Aryas, wondering uneasily if Mr. Dillinger had done some checking and found Olivier had lied on his application, before she forced herself to move calmly to Branch Dillinger and put out her hand.
“Mr. Dillinger,” she said. He took her hand in a firm grip, his own hand veined, tanned, square palm, long, square fingers, visibly capable. Lovely. “Amélie Strand,” she introduced herself.
He let her go, murmuring, “Aryas mentioned your name.”
She nodded.
“Sit, would you, Leigh?” Aryas requested.
She looked to him and then moved to one of the black suede chairs in front of his desk.
She sat. Aryas sat.
Branch Dillinger remained standing but crossed his arms on his impressive chest.
“Right, since you were concerned about it, gonna explain what went down. Also gotta ask something of you, Leigh,” Aryas began.
Amélie was confused at this opening.
Not to mention she was still alarmed at the possibility she’d been called in to be informed Olly had lied on his application and therefore be involved in whatever repercussions there were to that. This necessitating she share that she knew it (albeit, discovering this fact only recently) and trying to explain why she didn’t report that to Aryas at her first opportunity.
That said, she’d never mentioned to Aryas she was concerned about Olivier’s inexperience. She felt it but didn’t mention it to anybody.
Even with all that filtering through her mind, she replied, “If I can do it, I’ll do anything you need.”
Aryas gave her a warm look that made her (again) understand the devotion of his subs before he went on.
“After you and I had our chat about Delia and Tiffany, the first one,” he gave her a humorless grin that did nothing to improve her disposition, “as I told you I’d do, we monitored the situation closely. Unfortunately, what we saw was all good. Nothing off. Nothing outside club policy. And every step she made when she was on club premises was watched. Further, she flipped her occupancy switch any time she entered a playroom and Tiffany usually left the room before Delia did.”
Amélie nodded but said nothing, relieved that this wasn’t about Olly, at the same time not, because it was about Delia and she knew there was more.
She was correct. There was more.
“Though, looked more like Tiffany was escaping,” Aryas remarked.
“Oh no,” Amélie said softly. Though this was not surprising, she was beginning to understand why there was a private investigator in the room.
“So, not having a good feeling about it, I set Branch on her,” Aryas explained.
Amélie looked to Dillinger but only for a second before she returned her attention to Aryas.
“And?” she prompted hesitantly.
“Took her off premises, Leigh. Played with her in a private dungeon. And not only took pictures, but also video.”
Anger set Amélie’s body automatically sliding to the edge of her seat.
“She blackmailed her,” Amélie spat.
Aryas nodded. “Not thinking Tiffany shares her inclinations with her folks who, even though Tiffany has a job, still hold the control over a trust fund that allows her to live the life she’s used to. Delia found that out, knew Tiffany had resources, and forced Tiffany to pay for her services.”
That bitch.
“Did Delia harm her?” she bit out.
Aryas shook his head but said, “Took play in a way Tiffany didn’t like it all that much, probably mostly because she was subbing for a woman who held unacceptable power over her, but there was no physical harm. When we talked to her, not sure Tiffany even gave a shit about the money. She’s tight with her family, the whole family is close, including her brother and sister, and she was terrified they’d cut her out if they knew how she was. So she played and she paid.”
Amélie knew Tiffany was right to be terrified. Although Amélie had noted the closeness of the siblings in that family, the “tight” Aryas was talking about in regards to her father and mother (particularly her father) was that Tiffany was held tightly under their thumb.
Not to mention, her mother and father were both very conservative and ridiculously concerned about their reputations.
If they knew, they wouldn’t only cut Tiffany off financially, they’d cut her out emotionally.
“This is … it’s … unspeakable,” Amélie hissed.
Aryas’s expression showed he agreed as he carried on.
“When Branch cracked this, he found a shit ton of the same. Four subs she was working who frequented public and private parties or the Bolt. Some of them didn’t have the money to spare, but they found it and that stung. Not to mention, she’s got a history of this. She had the same on the Dominants and subs she needed to write recommendation letters for her to have membership here at the Honey.”
Yes.
Unspeakable.
“Has she been neutralized?” Amélie rapped out her question.
Aryas grinned at her but didn’t answer.
So she looked up to Dillinger to see he didn’t find anything funny.
In fact, she wondered if he was thinking anything at all.
His face she had not noted due to her concentration on his startling eyes (and his lovely body) was quite rugged, but it was also an impenetrable mask.
“Well, has she been neutralized?” she pushed.
“She has,” he confirmed shortly.
“How?” she clipped.
Dillinger looked to Aryas and so did Amélie.
“Branch is thorough, babe,” Aryas shared. “Before we even confronted her, he dug deep, got it all and all of it is destroyed, as is her equipment, and her membership has been revoked. I’ve made a few calls and not just around town. Shared everything. She’s now been blacklisted at every club in five countries. Also Branch tracked down the people she targeted. They know they aren’t under her thumb anymore and they were pissed. Now they’re liberated and pissed. They’re also being vocal about it. And you can imagine they’re not just gonna share she’s a blackmailing cunt, but she might get more. That’s not our business. I’ve done what I’m going to do because vengeance is for them, not us. At the very least I’m not thinking she’s gonna find her kink anytime soon. And I would not be surprised that news comes fast she’s been neutralized in other ways.”
“Good,” Amélie bit out, having no problem wishing the worst on Mistress Delia. She then promptly asked, “Now, what do you require of me?”
Aryas gave her another warm smile, this one also concerned, and he did it while replying without delay.
“We’ve talked to Tiffany, my sweet, and she’s not in a good place. Delia was her first real Mistress outside training and it didn’t leave a good taste in her mouth.” His deep voice dropped low. “I’m worried she’s not gonna come back for more. Give up the life. She’s terrified, Leigh. And you know her, her family. I was hoping you’d have a chat with her. Try to settle her. Bring her back into the fold. Talk with one of the Dommes who play with females who’d take care of her and see if you can set something up so she can see Delia is an anomaly and Tiffany’s safe here. Or take her back to the playrooms and be with her while she observes so she can see there’s good out there for her if she can set all this shit behind her.”
“I’ll find time to do that as soon as I can,” Amélie stated swiftly.
She had considered going to Paris and spending some time with her family. Getting away from the club, her home, her recent memories in an attempt (though she knew in her heart it was in vain) to alleviate the heartsick feeling that plagued her even in sleep.
She would delay this to sit down with Tiffany.
“Leigh, take that ‘soon as you can’ seriously,” Aryas advised. “The more time she has to get stuck in her head, the deeper that shit’s gonna burn in and scars like that last a lifetime.”
At his words, Amélie suddenly worried for Olly, who had worked past what was fucking with his head but in his anger showed that might not be entirely true.
That said, it was obvious there were other factors. These being he was the man he was with the tendencies he had who was with a woman who had a great deal more money than he did (or would ever have, really).
She could absolutely see how his nature would deepen his concerns about all the other.
And Amélie had no answers to his concerns. She was not a man who had considerably less money than the woman he was considering making a part of his life.
She would just have liked to discuss it with him in a composed way.
As she’d been doing for two days, Amélie shoved this out of her head and assured Aryas, “I’ll speak with her today.”
“That would be appreciated, Leigh,” Aryas replied.
She nodded and looked to Dillinger.
“Thank you for your assistance with this.”
He said nothing. Just jerked up his chin.
She nodded to him as well and looked back to Aryas. “Is that all you need?”
“Yeah, Leigh.” He stood and started to make his way around the desk. “Grateful for you comin’ in. Grateful for anything you can do with Tiffany.”
He made it to her and touched her cheek to cheek.
When that was done, she gave him a small smile that made his brows draw slightly together as his focus on her became more acute.
Amélie couldn’t brighten her smile to save her life. So to save herself from any more of Aryas’s attention, which might later require explanation, she turned from him, bid farewell to Dillinger, then Aryas, and she walked out of his office.
* * *
The next evening, after arriving together through an alternate entrance that Aryas provided for members who wished added privacy, Amélie sat next to Tiffany in the red room with the blinds drawn and the candles burning.
It had taken some coaxing to get her to come, but now they sat close in comfortable chairs, Amélie holding Tiffany’s clutching hand, as they watched Mistress Belle work a female slave on the big bed.
The slave was bound naked, curled into a ball, arms tied to calves, no movement allowed through her binding. A vibrator was switched on and working inside her.
All of this as Mistress Belle lay reclined on the pillows wearing a man-tailored silk robe opened for her slave to feed from her pussy. Only Belle’s legs were naked, spread wide and in view; her slave hid the rest of her as she ate voraciously.
But Belle’s enjoyment of this was not the least hidden.
Although Amélie saw the beauty in the vision before her, it did nothing for her. Even if this was her penchant (same-sex play between females), it without a doubt still wouldn’t be so soon after losing Olivier.
That was to say it did nothing for her except build an ache inside for she would much enjoy having Olly in this same position with a different toy working inside him, giving this to her as she gave it to him.
Something that would never happen.
Her heart-sore thoughts were interrupted when suddenly, Mistress Belle reached out a graceful hand, and with indolent eyes on Tiffany, invited, “Would you like to join us, my beauty?”
Tiffany’s hand clutched Amélie’s tighter.
Amélie held that hand and looked to Belle, giving her a short shake of her head, not wishing to interrupt the scene to remind Belle this wasn’t the agreement.
Observation only.
Belle, who’d been a member for some time, coming to the Honey in Phoenix after having a membership at Aryas’s other club in Seattle, read the situation a different way.
“Come to me,” she cooed to Tiffany. “You’re wet, I know it. Allow me the honor of cleaning such a sweet baby with my mouth.”
Tiffany’s voice was so timid it was nearly lost in the room. “Thank you, Mistress, but I—”
“Come, sweet,” Mistress Belle cajoled. “Let me take care of you.”
Amélie felt panic edge off Tiffany and she again shook her head at Belle, her grip tightening on the girl.
Belle didn’t even look at Amélie.
“I’ll take care of you,” she whispered. “I vow it, sweet beauty. Come to your Mistress.”
Amélie tightened her jaw in annoyance, about ready to stand and remove Tiffany from the room before she felt Tiffany’s hand relaxing in hers.
She looked to the girl.
She saw the effort it took Tiffany to tear her eyes away from a scene that Amélie, in her distracted thoughts, had not noted she was quite enjoying.
She turned them to Amélie.
“I think … do you—?”
Yes. Mistress Belle knew what she was doing. Amélie should not have doubted.
Amélie didn’t allow her to finish. “I do, Tiffany.”
Through the candlelight, Tiffany stared into Amélie’s eyes.
Amélie gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Feeling it, Tiffany cast a quick glance at the scene as did Amélie.
She needed to decide, and soon, before things culminated.
Tiffany must have sensed this for, with a reciprocating squeeze, she let Amélie’s hand go.
She rose from her chair and Amélie watched as she cautiously moved to the bed.
Belle, having been informed of the situation when Aryas contacted her to ask if she’d be willing to perform for observers in a special scene (for Belle often liked multiple partners, but she also liked her privacy), acted instantly.
And appropriately.
“You can keep your clothes on if you wish, lovely baby, but take off your panties and come offer your wetness to your Mistress.”
Amélie then watched as Tiffany did as told, keeping her clothes on but shimmying up her tight skirt to take off her panties before she climbed into bed and, slowly, hesitantly, climbed on Belle’s face.
Belle didn’t hurry her but when Tiffany relaxed into her, she took over.
Her pretty head falling back, Tiffany gave herself over to experienced, gentle hands.
Even though she would like to have left, for Tiffany, Amélie felt it important to wait and watch until things culminated for them both.
And she continued to watch while Mistress Belle guided Tiffany into helping her pleasure her other slave.
Only when Belle caught Amélie’s eyes before she cast hers to the door did Amélie focus entirely on Tiffany.
The girl nodded, mouthed, “Thank you, Mistress Amélie,” and then turned her gaze to her Mistress.
Belle had it in hand, so Amélie silently left the room.
One worry done, Delia hadn’t wrought lasting damage on Tiffany.
At least there was that.
She went to the Dom lounge where she’d stowed her purse in her locker, as she didn’t come in the front not only for Tiffany, but also because she wanted no attention on her on a night with no Olly.
She also didn’t want to confront the possibility it was a night with Olly.
If he wished to end their separation, he did not have to come to the club to find her.
He had her number to call.
Hell, on the courier parcel, he had her address.
So if he was there, he’d be there for something else.
That something else not being her.
In the lounge, she retrieved her purse and pulled out her phone, quickly texting Aryas that Belle was taking care of Tiffany before she looked into her locker to see a scattering of toys that she rarely used.
She stared at them, having the depressing urge to collect them as well as all her things from the Honey and take them home. There was no point to them staying there for they wouldn’t be used.
And an even more melancholy thought, they would not be used at her home either.
“Leigh.”
She turned, closing her locker as she did, when she heard Stellan say her name.
Anger spiked, an emotion she’d felt frequently since Olly walked out on her because it was an emotion she could handle far better than all the others.
She had it now because she absolutely did not need this.
“Stellan, now’s not the time,” she declared, barely looking at him and moving to leave him, the room and the club.
He blocked her progress and she came to a stuttering halt and snapped her head back to glare at him.
“Please get out of my way,” she requested briskly.
“We need—” he began but stopped himself as he regarded her closely. Then he whispered, “Oh fuck. Leigh.”
She really needed to learn to hide her heartbreak. It wasn’t good everyone could read it in a glance.
She gathered her irritation around her and snapped, “I asked you to get out of my way.”
“He chewed you up and spit you out, didn’t he, honey?” Stellan asked gently.
He had.
That was none of Stellan’s business.
“I won’t ask again,” she warned.
But he didn’t move out of her way.
He lifted a hand and curled it around the side of her neck, dropping closer so his face was but an inch away.
He wore very nice cologne. It smelled expensive but it wasn’t obtrusive and this was not the first time she’d had that thought.
Though it was the first time she’d had that thought with it causing annoyance that he was detaining her rather than frustration that he smelled so lovely and would do so while she played with him if things were different.
“It’s a hard lesson to learn, I know, Leigh. It’s painful,” he said quietly, taking her out of her thoughts. “But there are those of us who understand the life and there are those of us who wish to live outside of it even if they need what they can get in the times they allow themselves in.” His body also moved closer. “When we go searching for what we ultimately need, honey, we have to be sure we find the ones who understand that.”
Although she was angry with him, and frustrated with this encounter, she wondered how Stellan knew about that pain.
She didn’t ask.
“Are you done?” she queried acidly.
“I know you’re pissed because of what you’re feeling, Leigh. I’m just telling you I get it and I’m here for you.”
“Thank you for that offer, Stellan, and I hope you take no offense when I decline.”
His hand at her neck curled deeper and Amélie was feeling quite tired of men not adhering to her wishes of not … being … touched.
“Then I’ll be very clear with what I’m offering, Leigh,” he ground out, suddenly impatient, his new tone and look snapping her alert. “You want to go out there for a drink and talk, I’ll be right beside you. You want to leave here and go somewhere else for a drink so you can talk, I’ll be right beside you there too. You want to go to my place so I can make you a drink and then we can talk, I’m there too. After that, you want me to fuck his memory right out of you, I’m really there for you. But,” he came even closer and something changed in his eyes she was shocked to her core to see, “if you need to take me to a playroom, bind me, paddle me, plug my ass, and make me eat you until you come and I can’t breathe, I’m buried so deep in your pussy, I’m there for that too.”
“Stellan—”
“You know I’ve been waiting for you and do not deny that,” he bit out.
She had no idea—outside Olly determinedly sharing that without Amélie ever quite accepting it—and she could not believe she’d read him so wrongly.
“Honestly, I didn’t,” she shared.
She saw the hurt flicker in his eyes before he dropped his hand and stepped back.
Amélie understood that hurt in an instant.
If what he said was true, he’d been watching, waiting, and thinking she’d been doing the same and intended to approach when the time was right.
That time being when she was through with playing with others and wanted a toy who truly understood the game to call her own, in and out of the club.
“Stellan, my sweet friend—” she began.
His handsome face turned hard.
“Don’t,” he clipped.
She lifted a hand to his chest but he stepped back so swiftly, it was like he was avoiding the touch of a flame.
She understood that, too, and dropped her hand.
“Games anyone should be smart enough not to play,” he said and her gaze cut to his. “You wanted me.”
She had.
“You’re a Dom,” she pointed out.
“For everyone but you.”
“I couldn’t know that,” she told him, something he had to know, because there were many switches but he’d never given that indication.
“You’re right. Unfortunately, you couldn’t, except I’ve been giving it to you openly since you found your stallion. But I played a game, Leigh, one that was fucking stupid. But I did it because I knew you were looking for a challenge. Not looking, it was a need and that challenge had to be significant. And I waited for you to take up my challenge, but I was too good at giving it to you because you didn’t even fucking see it was a challenge. Then you found what you wanted, and instead of me giving you that myself, since I had my head up my ass I thought you’d see what I was giving and eventually turn to me.”
So Olly had been right.
And she’d missed it totally.
“As lovely as your offer is, and as much as it means to me, which is a great deal, I’m afraid now is not the time for us to go there, my handsome Stellan,” she said softly.
“Right,” he bit off and started to turn.
She caught his arm and he turned back, anger hiding the other emotion flaring in his eyes.
“Are you a Dom?” she asked.
“For everyone but you,” he whispered.
Then he pulled free of her hold and prowled out after giving her a bewildering statement that just months ago she would have loved to explore its meaning.
She stared across the plush lounge Aryas provided his Doms and thought of Stellan.
She also thought of Branch Dillinger.
She further thought about Olly and the three days that had passed since their argument.
And last, she thought that life was a bitch of a Mistress.
And she didn’t care one whit about the pain.