Page 112 of Brat Baby
Emery
I am literally trembling with nerves as I smile at the woman who has just taken my things and left me standing in an empty, black-tiled, mirror-walled…lobby area, in just my lingerie, pantyhose, and suspenders. I’d opted to give her my heels along with my other belongings, because it hadn’t felt right to keep them on my feet.
The only pieces of furniture in this very echoey room are the big black desk she was standing behind, with its computer and baskets of wristbands, and several red-velvet bench seats that line one wall.
The woman, aged somewhere in her thirties, if I had to guess, clocks my trembling as she comes back from the storage room she’d disappeared into and then reaches over the table to hold my hand. “No need to be nervous. No one will stop you from leaving. You can pop in and out as quick as you please. And if, at any time, you feel uncomfortable or need help, you…”
“Call for a monitor or sayred.”
She nods at me approvingly. “Exactly. You’ve got this. You’ve signed the waiver, we’ve gone over the rules, and Master Derek has a copy of your guest ticket in his email. Would you like me to go and get him for you?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “That’s okay. He told me to meet him at the couches, by the bar.”
I cross my fingers behind my back at the little lie. All my hopes for sneaking into the club without the four of them knowing rely on those couches being a permanent fixture of the club.
My nerves settle when she nods again, glancing over my shoulder as the elevator opens behind me before turning to look at me again. “Ah, yes, that is their usual spot. Okay, well, all that is left is for you to enter the club. Take as much time as you need.”
“Thank you,” I reply, but don’t give myself any time.
I am too fucking keyed up to cool my heels in the entryway. I need to see my daddies right now. Excited bubbles war with worried weights in my stomach. Will they be happy to see me? Will they enjoy the surprise? Or is this going to land me in more hot water?
Either way, it’s too late to consider leaving. I’m here now, and I want to see this through. After everything that has happened thisweek, even if this goes poorly, I deserve to know why they are at the club instead of at the apartment with me.
I grip the giant golden vertical handle and push against the door until it moves. As soon as there is the tiniest gap, I’m hit with a wave of noise.
Music, conversation, laughter, and I think maybe a scream?
The door closes behind me, and the cool air of the lobby is gone, replaced by a warmth that will keep even the most scantily clad people warm.
My cheeks heat as I watch a woman walk a man on a lead like he is a dog, crawling along the ground, naked as the day he was born, except for mittens over his hands and a mask that makes him look like a puppy. And oh my god, is that a butt plug tail?
I avert my eyes, not ready to see the things I have researched in real life.
Forcing a few tentative steps, I go deeper into the club. No one is paying me any attention, which is fine with me. I’m doing my absolute best not to look at them. One of the rules was that staring is unacceptable unless there’s a public demonstration going on.
I’m not risking my curiosity getting me kicked out before I can even find my daddies.
Instinctively, I continue toward the center of the room, hoping that is where I will find the bar, and I am rewarded only a minute later, when it appears like a makeshift wall, breaking up the main area of the club from what looks like the sit-around-and-talk area.
My heart rate through the fucking ceiling, I make my way around the few people that have stopped to chat right in the walkway, feeling light and magical when I spot Derek smiling as he looks down at something in front of him.
The crowd shifts around me, and I see Darcy sitting on the same couch as Derek, a gorgeous woman sitting between them.She is facing Darcy as she holds a piece of rope in her hand while he wraps it around her wrist.
My smile falters, then goes cold as I spot Hudson, leaning down from a barstool and talking to a woman kneeling on the floor by his feet. She is talking animatedly with her hands, and he is nodding, those ice-blue eyes locked on her face, giving her his undivided attention.
Xavier is seated, with a woman sitting on the armrest of his overstuffed armchair as they both speak to two men standing close by.
Everything is tingling, and I can’t hear the music over the rushing noise in my head as I return my attention to Derek. He is staring back at me, features tight and eyes narrowed. My gaze drops to the tray in front of him, held up by a blonde girl, not much older than me.
Dylan.
My hand comes up to cover my mouth, because fuck, I think I’m going to throw up.
Derek stands, almost knocking Dylan over, his sudden movement the trigger I need to get fucking moving, ASAP.
I spin around and fucking charge back to the door, my entire body tingling like I’m about to pass out. I’m not polite. I don’t try to fit through gaps. I push and shove, needing to get back out to the lobby as quick as possible, collect my shit, then get out of here.
If I didn’t need my phone to call a rideshare, I’d leave it all behind.
