I stood next to the bar and watched the crowd as they shuffled back and forth between the scenes or seating areas. The loud thumping music did little to drown out the cries of pain and passion. Occasionally, a cheer would punctuate one of those sounds, and my attention would turn away from my inner thoughts for a moment. I would crane my neck to see where the sound was coming from. After making sure the crowd or Dom was not overstepping their bounds, I would fall back into my inner musings.
I hated that I couldn't get Molly out of my mind. The way she had looked in that ridiculous excuse of a dress had made my blood boil just thinking about it.
But not with anger.
No, that came with the thought of whoever it was that she had dressed so fucking provocatively for. I desperately wanted to hunt that man down and bash his face.
My hands curled into fists, and I looked down at them as my knuckles turned red.
"Fuck!" I snarled and took a sip of his soda.
Eric did not carry hard liquor in his club, firm in his belief that one should never play under the influence of drugs and alcohol. If he even suspected that someone was compromised, he would have his bouncers escort them off the property. His other firm rule about alcohol was that his employees may never drink on the job. We were all here to keep people safe, and we needed a clear head to do that.
Though I whole-heartedly agreed with his view on drinking and playing, I would have killed for a shot of jack now.
"What is munching on you, bo-bo?"
I looked up to see Esme standing in front of me. Esme was one of the kindest, bubbly subs I had ever met. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of Molly. Esme was always quick with a smile and a joke. But frightfully fierce when she thought someone was hurting, what she called HER subs. Though Esme couldn't possibly be a day over thirty, every sub that walked in the door was under her wing.
Eric told me a story once about a time when her Dom Laurent had to physically pull her away from a man. Esme had gotten it into her mind that this man was mistreating the girl he had brought in. She had punched the man right in his nose and almost caused the man to sue. Before she could come back, the man demanded a public apology in front of the whole club, and Laurent had to dispense her punishment very publicly as well.
Most subs that came to the Shackles and Whips were willing to be put on display for one reason or another. Esme was no exception. However, her punishment had been difficult for her to endure. Ever since then, she has refused to play publicly again.
"You must be really distracted, bo-bo," Esme spoke again.
I blinked out of my thoughts and focused on her. "Sorry, Es. I wasn't trying to ignore you, my dear."
Her chocolate-brown eyes searched my face. "What is wrong, Maître Scott?"
I winced. I had to look like shit to make Esme drop her teasing nickname for me. I was only a year or two younger than her, but she had always treated me like a kid brother.
I reached over and patted her hand. "I'm okay, Es. I promise. I just have a few things on my mind. All is well, ma petite chou."
My deplorable use of French had the desired effect on her.
She giggled and shook her head at me. "Maître Eric is right, bo-bo. You should not be killing our tongue with your terrible accent."
I winked at her. "But the term my little cabbage doesn't sound so cute in English."
"Scott, are you flirting with my sub again?" Laurent's voice boomed from the other side of the bar area.
Esme's eyes brightened as she caught sight of her Dom walking towards her. She put her towel down and hurried over to him. She stopped a foot away and allowed him to look her over.
Laurent's eyes took in her soft brown hair that curled around her head and shoulders. His gaze moved down to the simple brown collar around her neck. The collar was there to declare that Esme was owned and not to be touched without permission from Laurent. His hand reached up and tugged on the single loop in the front. Esme rocked slightly towards him, and I saw a slow smile spread across his lips.
His gaze swept down the tight corset that pushed her breasts up, then down to the tiny skirt that barely covered her ass. Most girls here wore sexy heels, but Esme was tall for a woman and always chose to wear flats.
I couldn't find fault with the woman's outfit and, from the look of satisfaction on Laurent's face, neither did he. He opened his arms and allowed Esme to greet him the way she was practically buzzing to be able to do. With a leap, she was in Laurent's arms and pressing a happy kiss on his lips.
I had to look away before either one saw the look of envy on my face. Between working with my father and trying to get my proposal for my business ready, I didn't have time for a submissive, especially the type I enjoy.
Brats.
I loved handling bratty subs. Their attitudes and spunk never failed to make me hard as a rock and itching to get my toy bag out. I loved the challenge that they would bring.
But without the ability to give them the proper attention, I didn't feel it was fair to try and take one on.
Not to mention that, if I were to be completely honest with myself, I hadn't found anyone in the last year or so that really interested me. I knew the reason behind that, but I didn't dare even think about it.
I certainly was not jealous as hell that the object of my frustrations was out with another man in a dress that showed off a body made for a man's pleasure.
"Fuck!" I spat, slamming my fist into the counter.
The pain radiated up my arm, and I welcomed it as a distraction from the burning rage in my chest.
"Scott, what's going on, mon ami? You look like you have swallowed a lemon and can't spit out the seeds," Laurent commented.
I gave him a weird look and shook my head. "That's a very strange visual, Laurent."
Laurent gave a shrug. "But no less accurate."
I gave a slight laugh. "Well, don't worry about it. I promise I have not had any lemon at all tonight."
"Woman troubles?" Laurent guessed all too accurately.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "What makes you say that?"
Laurent smiled slightly and winked at Esme as she gave him a rather cocky look. "I know what it is to have trouble with a woman."
"You will have a lot more trouble, mon cher Monsieur, if you continue that thinking," Esme warned her Dom.
Laurent gave her a look that caused her to flush slightly and drop her eyes.
I chuckled a bit. "Well, regardless. There is no woman trouble because there is no woman."
"Merde," Esme hissed out.
My eyes jerked to her in shock that she would speak to me so impolitely, only to find she wasn't looking at me at all. Her suddenly cold stare was pinned at something beyond either Laurent and I, and I couldn't remember the last time I had seen her so furious.
Laurent fired off a question in French that I didn't understand, and my gaze jumped between the two. With no hope of understanding their words, I turned my attention to what had caused her outburst.
A tall, fit man had walked in and seemed to call all the attention to him. The word regal seemed to describe him to a tee. But it wasn't the man that caused my heart to stop then race. It was the petite blond standing next to him in a dress that hugged her all too familiar, all too perfect figure.
A growl rose from my chest and spilled out of my mouth with a single name in it.
"Molly."