Chapter 2

Nadia slowed the pace of her walking and looked at me sideways.

“You know sample day at the grocery store?” I asked. “How you can just cruise the aisles and pretty much get a free lunch?”

Nadia smiled and nodded. I got the feeling she’d done that trick a time or two. Nearly every college student had.

“The catering business is like that, except ten times better,” I said. “They have lots of trainees, so they’re always making a ton of food. There’s something good to eat nearly everyday.”

“Sounds yum,” she offered.

“I do have to warn you about a couple things though.”

“One. Miss Chowdhury is very touchy-feely. If you don’t want her groping your assets, I’d suggest standing behind me so I can take the brunt of it.”

“Two. The trainees are all girls and they’re all naked.”

Nadia came to a dead stop and stood with her mouth gaping.

“It’s on the up and up. Their sanitation certificate is current.”

“Mm-hmm. You said you liked girls, didn’t you? Think of it as a preview of The Pussy Cat Club.”

“Free lunch,” I said and tugged her hand.

“She smells like cookies,” I whispered to Desi, as soon as Miss Chowdhury was out of earshot. “And she grabbed my ass.”

“You’ve got a little of her lipstick on your cheek, too,” Desi said, and I reached up to wipe with the back of my hand.

“Other side,” she said, grinning.

“They’re ready,” said Miss Chowdhury, gliding back over to where we stood. “Come with me, please.”

I felt Miss Chowdhury’s hand snaking around my waist. But I didn’t get more than a few seconds to think about it, because as she led us through the big commercial kitchen, I got distracted by the jiggling breasts and hairless mounds of what I assumed were the trainees Desi mentioned.

Nobody seemed to give us a second glance. The girls were all too busy chopping, slicing, or otherwise preparing something in front of them.

Miss Chowdhury escorted Desi and me as far as the doorway to a private dining room in the back before hustling over to check on the trainees. I couldn’t help but notice several of them got their asses fondled, too.

“Desi? What is this place?”

“Chowdhury’s Catering,” she said. “Technically, Chowdhury’s Cakes and Catering. If you think the food is good, wait till you have a slice of tiramisu or tres leches.”

“Um… I mean, the naked girls.”

“Come on,” she said, grabbing me by the hand. “I’ll explain while we eat.”

Desi pulled me along into the subdued lighting of the private dining room. Gone was the noise of the kitchen. The only sound was the clatter of two places being set, one at the head of the table and on to the side. The girl setting out the plates didn’t have a stitch on her.

“Desi,” I whispered, nudging her under the table. “Why are they naked?”

“They’re trainees,” she whispered in reply, and wrapped her hand up with mine.

“The submissive program. And you needn’t whisper. It’s not a secret.”

“Not a secret?” I continued whispering anyway. This was all too surreal.

“Yeah, I work upstairs. We recruit the submissive girls who need–“

“Oh, my God,” I said, jerking my hand away from hers. “Are you grooming me? Kidnapping me? Turning me into a sex slave?”

“What?” she said. Desi seemed genuinely surprised by my question, but this was all too weird.

“Nadia. Oh, no, no, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just figured with The Pussy Cat Club application…”

I drilled my gaze into hers. My pulse was pounding in my temples.

“If you want to eat somewhere else, we can,” she said. “Or if you just want me to walk you back to the train… I’m sorry.”

We were interrupted by the sudden presence of a naked girl standing between us with her head bowed.

Well that was stupid of me, I thought. Sometimes I forget not everyone is as kinky as me and my little circle of family and friends.

She was still wide-eyed as the young trainee chose that particular moment to grace us with, “Shall I come back later, Mistress?”

I watched Nadia mouthing the word Mistress. I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get wider, but they did. “I should go,” she said.

“I’ll walk you to the–“

“I can find it myself.”

And I watched Nadia walk out the door.

“What the fuck was that?” I mumbled to myself as I rode the light rail. The entire way I eyed every passenger with suspicion, wondering how many of them might be part of this secret underground sex slave network. I’d seen shit like this on the news.

My phone buzzed. I had a feeling I knew exactly who it was before I even unlocked the screen.

I blocked her number.

I walked in with tears streaming down my cheeks. Karin was over in a flash, wrapping her arms around me without uttering a word.

“I fucked up, baby,” I said.

“Shh…” Karin pulled me close and pressed my head to her shoulder. She touched her fingers to my hair and pushed it away from where it was sticking to my face.

I opened my eyes to Betty standing beside me with a bottle of water in one hand and a tissue in the other. She probably heard me blubbering all the way from her office.

I sniffled. Karin loosened her grip and Betty handed me the tissue. I elected to skip drying my tears and blew my nose instead.

“I’ll fetch the box,” said Betty, and she came back a few seconds later to press another tissue into my hand.

“I fucked up,” I repeated.

Neither of them said anything. They both stood by, each of them with a gentle hand laid on my arm, and they waited.

“I fucked up and she ghosted me.” I started sniffling again and the tears soon followed.

Karin and Betty led me to the couch in Betty’s office and sat on either side of me.

I sat on a bench with my phone in one hand and an empty paper coffee cup in the other. I was getting my caffeine fix from Starbucks now. It was more expensive and a little out of the way, but it was also someplace where I hoped I wouldn’t run into Desi.

I was still trying to wrap my head around what I saw and heard at Chowdhury’s Catering, wondering if maybe I should call the police. I pushed that thought away and turned instead to The Pussy Cat Club application beckoning on my phone.

I filled out the remainder of it and tapped submit.

I was getting seriously tired of McDonald’s coffee. It wasn’t a bad brew, but sitting outside by myself everyday, nursing my cup, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nadia was just another sad commentary on my sad life.

I’d been doing this for three weeks when I decided it was probably a lost cause. And then, as I was riding the blue line bus, I had a brilliant idea. At least I convinced myself it was brilliant.

I was going to visit The Pussy Cat Club.

“Hey, Karin?” I hollered as I stepped through the front door of the office. “Wanna go to a strip club?”

Betty stepped out with her finger over her lips. “She’s in an interview.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “When’s she free?”

Betty pulled out her phone and flicked her finger across the screen.

“Never mind,” I said. Duh. I could check the calendar app just as easily as Betty. Why couldn’t I remember that?

I flicked and scrolled. Shit. All day?

I strolled into The Pussy Cat Club with a wad of bills stuffed in my pocket, past a burly looking butch at the door, and over to the hostess stand.

“Hi,” I said. “I had a lap dance with a girl the other day, I think her name was Nadia something or other. Is she working today? I just love her to bits.”

Maybe that last line was a little over the top, but it got the hostess motivated to check the schedule. “She’s here now,” said the hostess. “If you think you’ll be coming in to see her frequently, you might want to consider our VIP membership. It has several nice perks for our regular guests.”

“Yes. Extended happy hour discounts, VIP rooms, private parties, and–“

“VIP rooms,” I said. “What’s that?”

“A more secluded setting. Just you and the dancer. You said Nadia was your favorite?”

I nodded. “Sign me up.”

“It’s all electronic,” she said. “Just scan this QR code and tap the button with your preferred payment method.”

I sat in the boxy club chair with a tonic water in my right hand. The chair was the only piece of furniture and the bar selections were all non-alcoholic. I sipped at my drink and waited while I took in the neon pattern of the carpet glowing under the black light recessed in the ceiling, and soaked up the driving drum and bass of the musical selection.

I watched the dark curtain hiding the doorway in front of me being pushed aside. “Hi, I’m Nadia,” she said, switching her hips. “How shall I address you today…”

Nadia was sparkling. She had been sprinkled with glitter. And there were bright neon stripes painted across her cheek bones that glowed in the black light. Otherwise, she was completely naked.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I scowled.

“Getting a lap dance,” said Desi.

Desi pulled her phone out and held it up so I could see the QR code. I recognized it immediately as the club’s VIP pass. Shit.

“This VIP membership says I am.” Desi smirked. “And at a ten percent discount as a first time subscriber.”

“You’re a fucking stalker, you know that?”

“I paid for my lap dance.”

“I’ll find you another girl,” I said.

I turned my glance to the dome camera on the ceiling, nodded once and started sashaying my way over to where Desi sat in the club chair.

“There’s a camera over your head,” I said, as I dipped my hips to the beat while walking a circle around her. “You remember the big scary butch you saw on the way in?”

Desi nodded as she followed me with her eyes.

“She’s got friends,” I said. “And one of them’s watching me on that camera right now. If I give the right hand signal or if she can’t see my hands for a span of more than thirty seconds, she’ll be in here with backup.”

“I respect that,” said Desi. “Safety’s important. You picked a good club to work for.”

I huffed. “Whatever.”

I cupped my breasts in my hands and pushed them up while squeezing and pinching my nipples. I didn’t do it for Desi’s benefit. Some things just become habit after three weeks.

“I like your glitter,” she said. “Sparkly nipples are the best.”

“And the glitter trail leading to your pussy. Mmm-mmm.” Karin leaned back in the chair and reached into the front pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a wad of bills and peeled a twenty from the top.

“You get good tips here?” she asked.

“How much do I have to tip to watch you plow your finger through that glittery pussy of yours?”

I held up my hand with my middle finger extended. I popped it in my mouth, dragged it through my folds, and then pushed that middle finger out towards Desi’s face, right between her eyes. “Get the message yet?”

“No G-string to tuck the bills into,” I said, ignoring Nadia’s flipping me off just then and laying the twenty on the arm of the chair. “I didn’t really plan for that. Do you know if I can tip online using the VIP app?”

“Desi,” she said. “Why are you here?” But she said it while sashaying around me, flipping her hair and cupping various curvy parts of her body.

“I told you. Lap dance.”

“You still shacked up with douche canoe?” I asked.