Friday, July 17, 2009

Broadly Bound Anthology

From "Broadening Our Horizons" by Beth Wylde

The day I’d been waiting for, for so long, had finally arrived. It was official. I owned a nightclub. Not just any old club—something truly special. Broad Horizons was the first nightclub of its kind. We not only catered to the BDSM lifestyle, we were a specialty GLBTQ BDSM entertainment facility.

The downtown warehouse I’d purchased at auction last year was huge and in a perfect location for what I had in mind. Nearly all the other buildings on the block were vacant or had been recently demolished, which left plenty of parking spaces to be found in nearby lots and alongside the curb. It also ensured that the loud music and other illicit activities we’d be engaging in wouldn’t disturb anyone. We were pleasantly isolated from the rest of the city, yet still in a convenient location.

It took my entire savings account to cover the down payment on the building and I still had to struggle to find a bank willing to back the venture. The monthly payments eventually drained me so much that I couldn’t afford keep my home and pay for the business at the same time.

Maryanne, my girlfriend, partner, and part-time submissive, took it upon herself to sell our small home and move us into the warehouse. The third floor loft was too small to be of much use for the club, but it made a decent-sized apartment and even left us some space for a personal playroom. Something we hadn’t had room for at our previous residence.

Construction crews were expensive so we did what we could ourselves. The actual structure of the building was fine. The interior needed major renovating. We faced a daunting prospect that took every penny we had and twelve long, exhausting months of constant struggle. In the end though, it all worked out. The building passed inspection and everything was up to code. We were ready for business. If things really took off the way I expected them to, I had several large investment firms interested in opening up a franchise operation. The agreement came complete with a lifetime contract that gave Maryanne and me total control of the original club and twenty percent of the profits of any of the new night spots. The deal was more than I could have hoped for, but also left a lot riding on one single evening.

The special pink and black engraved invitations and flyers went out months prior to every GLBTQ and BDSM friendly business in town along with several prominent people in the community. My fantasy was becoming a reality, but now that opening day had arrived things weren’t going exactly the way I’d planned. Not even close.

Maryanne and I spent the entire night checking and rechecking the club, trying to be sure everything was finished in time for the grand opening at eight. Things looked okay until sometime around sunrise. That’s when my dreams began falling apart at the seams.

I was going through the surplus inventory when I realized that the monogrammed matchbooks and cocktail napkins I’d ordered had never arrived. I placed a quick, frantic call to the company only to get the ‘they must have gotten lost in the mail’ speech. After that, things continued on a rapid downward spiral. The alcohol delivery arrived two hours late and completely wrong. I recounted my order and found out they’d shorted me two cases of champagne and at least ten bottles of vodka.

Where I was going to find that much liquor in such a short period of time was anyone’s guess. Add that to the fact the entertainment I’d booked for the evening still hadn’t shown up, my bouncers and wait staff were AWOL and my girlfriend, and co-owner, had disappeared, and it could easily be understood why I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I was mentally and physically exhausted, and it was beginning to look like all my hard work had been for nothing. The only positive thing so far was the fact that the movers had arrived, albeit late.

'What kind of cruel cosmic bullshit is this? We have less than twelve hours before we officially open for business. This place looks like a fucking tornado came through. With no survivors.’ I clapped my hands together twice to try and get the attention of the five men and two women the moving company had sent over to deliver the last of the furniture. When that didn’t work I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled as long and loud as I could. The shrill, ear piercing sound got me the desired result immediately. Seven bodies halted in the middle of whatever task they were attempting to perform and turned to face me with matching expressions of shock on their faces. The Domme in me couldn’t help but smile as I assumed control of the entire room and everyone in it. Being in charge is always a heady feeling no matter what I’m doing at the time.

‘We have got a lot to do and very little time to do it.’ I turned to face them. ‘I need all the round, black pedestal tables and their matching chairs set up over to my left, in front of the stage. The tables need to be arranged so that everyone is able to view the stage no matter where they are sitting in the room.’ I paused to figure out what else was missing as they quickly followed my orders. ‘Now, who has the gold runners?’

The movers gave me matching looks of confusion. ‘Gold, brocade runners.’ I held my hands in the air two feet apart. ‘They are about this long,’ I moved my hands closer together, ‘and about this wide. They belong on the black tables.’

The girl standing closest to me suddenly shouted and dashed behind the bar, emerging with a big box filled with long golden bolts of fabric. She pulled one out and waved it gleefully in the air. ‘I’ve got them, I’ve got them!’

I shook my head at her enthusiasm and made a mental note to send her home before the club opened for the evening. If she got that excited over a table cloth, she’d have a heart attack at some of the activities sure to take place once we opened for real. I glanced down at the clipboard in my hands and moved to the next item on my list.

’Okay, who has the exam table that I ordered for the medical fetish room?’

* * * *

Hours later, we’d done as much as we could in the short time available. I needed to get ready to greet the guests and I couldn’t very well do that in an old pair of jeans and a dirty t-shirt. I left the movers to see themselves out and dashed upstairs to get ready, hoping I’d run into my girlfriend along the way.

After a quick shower I threw on my black leather pants, black muscle shirt with a tight black sports bra underneath and a thick soled pair of shitkickers, trying to push my worries to the back of my mind and focus on the positive. My hair was a quick fix with a comb and a little gel to spike it slightly. I didn’t bother with make-up. My skin is fine the way it is and adding gook on top of my boi-ish complexion just makes me look strange. My figure is too muscular to try and make my face all feminine. It’s like my head doesn’t match my body if I try to get all frilly. Besides, Maryanne is plenty girly enough for the both of us. I’m Butch and Domme and proud of it.

With all the difficulties I’d encountered so far, I was having a real hard time being optimistic. I was still fretting as I tromped down the stairs to the lower level entrance. I had invited a lot of high profile guests to tonight’s opening and the thought that I wasn’t ready was inexcusable. I’d had more than enough time to prepare. The fact that I’d waited until the last minute had me in a foul mood, with no one to blame but myself.

My mood brightened considerably when I found Maryanne standing by the entrance. Just the sight of her reassured me that things were going to be okay. At least until I noticed she wasn’t dressed in her costume and she had a big suitcase sitting on the floor next to her. My stomach shot up into my chest and I fought not to choke as I prepared myself for something I thought would never happen. Maryanne was walking out on me.

Time was of the essence, and since I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush, I pointed to her luggage and asked the question burning in my gut. ‘Going somewhere?’

She nodded solemnly. ‘I just can’t take it anymore. You spend all your time talking and working on this damn club. I hardly ever see you at all unless I’m down here helping you out. I feel more like the hired help than your girlfriend. I need someone who is willing to take their time and show me the attention I deserve. I’m leaving.’

I tried to stifle the urge to scream. ‘Now? Tonight? After all the effort we’ve put into this place over the past year?’

‘Yes. I can’t stick around another minute. This club is all you think about. I can’t remember the last time you took control and made love to me. I’m lonely.’

My eyes widened in shock at her accusation. ‘What? Have you gone nuts? Just last night I tied you up in our playroom and fucked you senseless! Did you forget about that? Or what about Monday night when I handcuffed you to the bed and ate you until you had so many orgasms you passed out? Do you hit your head recently or something?’
Maryanne looked confused. ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about. We haven’t had sex in months. Whatever it is that you think you did I can assure you it wasn’t with me!’

I stomped my foot down hard in anger, the harsh sound echoing through the currently empty building. ‘I know damn well it was with you. I still have your nail marks in my back to prove it.’ I raised my shirt and turned around to show her the wounds that were still fresh on my skin. ‘Are you still having trouble remembering? I think this is proof that I didn’t imagine our encounter.’

I heard the soft swish of her sneakers as she moved closer to inspect the damage. One hand lightly traced down my spine and I shivered as I realized it might be the last time she ever touched me voluntarily. I pulled down my top and spun around to check her reaction. The extreme hatred emanating from her was the last thing I expected.

‘You two-timing bitch.’ She followed up her comment with a slap across my face that left my right cheek stinging and my pride in shreds.

I grabbed my cheek and glared at her hard. I should have walked away but I was too mad to even contemplate leaving. Her outburst was the icing on the cake. My temper had reached its boiling point and I was just looking to take out my frustration. I was the Dominant, Maryanne was the submissive. I wasn’t about to tolerate such behavior, especially since she was about to leave me for good. ‘What the fuck was that for?’ I grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her lightly. ‘You’ve gone fucking insane.’ The clock on the wall chimed in to announce it was time to officially open the doors.

‘Son of a bitch,’ I cursed out loud and let go of my soon to be ex-girlfriend as I moved to unlock the front door. ‘You’ve picked a really bad time to fall off your rocker.’ I took a deep breath, composing myself as much as possible under the circumstances, and threw open the door to let in the evening’s guests. Instead of the huge crowd I expected to find swarming at the entrance, I was greeted with nothing but a chill gust of wind and an empty sidewalk. It was the last straw. I opened my mouth and let out a blood curdling scream of defeat, picturing myself homeless and living in a cardboard box in a dirty alley somewhere while slowly starving to death.

‘Dani!’ Maryanne screamed my name and I turned back around to see what the hell had set her off.

‘What do you need now? Haven’t you caused me enough grief this evening?’ I pointed out into the empty night. ‘It’s all ruined. I can’t own a club with no guests. Broad Horizons is finished before it even began.’ I was left talking to empty air.

Maryanne was gone. In fact the entire club I’d just been standing in had disappeared. I blinked and nothing changed. I’d finally gone over the edge. Just as I hung my head in defeat, someone grabbed me from behind.