The Club

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I was restless. My friends had coaxed me into coming to the club when I really had other things to do. I loved to dance, but they were more interested in just chatting and gossiping. We took turns shooting down guys as they came to our table trying to ply us with drinks and hoping for a pick-up. I was getting bored and began planning a tactful way of bowing-out, but I had been watching a hauntingly attractive girl sitting in the far corner who seemed as out of place here as I felt. She had had her share of guys come and go and I wondered if she was waiting for someone… or perhaps simply the wrong gender was hitting on her. It was an encouraging thought which kept me glancing over at her so often I was afraid my friends would notice and start razzing me. I wasn’t sure what exactly it was about her that drew my attention like a magnet.
When I looked over again and she was gone, my heart began to race. I scanned around the room and saw her threading through the crowd towards the restroom. My skin began to prickle and I wondered if my friends could tell how distracted and nervous I was. I was afraid my own indecision might cost me my one opportunity. Did I dare? I hurriedly excused myself and discreetly followed her into the ladies room without a clue what I was going to say. I took my lip-gloss out of my handbag and stood at the sink touching up my make-up while I waited for her to come out of a stall, but I heard muffled voices behind the row of closed doors. I kept hoping whoever was in here with us would finish their conversation and leave. I desperately tried to think of something endearing to say to her, or at least something disarming. The voices grew louder and I heard the frightening sound of a face being slapped in anger. I dropped the applicator wand I was so startled!
As I fumbled around on the floor under the sink looking for the wand I glanced to my right and saw two shoes and a sexy pair of legs rising from them. I looked up. It wasn’t her.
“Are you a slave”? The woman inquired.
“Huh? No”! I answered, wondering at the strange question.
“Then get off your knees”! She commanded. I wobbled upright on my pumps shifting my dress around straight and a middle-aged woman with great legs stood in front of me holding a leash. At the other end, tied onto a rhinestone-studded collar stood my enchanting… slave?? It was her!
“This cunt is worthless! Do you want her”? She demanded, jerking her forward by the collar. The young girl looked at me with pleading eyes filled with tears and abject fear. I could see the redness in her cheeks where she’d just been slapped. I nodded and the girl was shoved into my arms and spat on by her bitch of a Mistress who turned and pushed out the door in a huff. I watched, astonished as the door swung closed behind her and looked at the relieved, young beauty who held out her leash to me. I wiped the spit off her cheek and she smiled, the first smile I’d seen on her face all evening. She leaned her head forward onto my breast and kissed it. She was mine.

(c) August 24th, 2013 Bethany Ariel Frasier

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About Bethany Frasier

Half Native-American, half-Scottish, American-born feminist, progressive writer, and political activist for social justice, environmental causes, and women's issues. Holding degrees in history and political science, alumnus of Ohio State University. Resides in Licking County, Ohio, also known as the Land of Legend. Works in real estate property management.

One thought on “The Club

  1. Oh, yes – I can confirm. The best contacts are always the ladies room if you attend a party *grin*

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