Page 2 of Spoil Me, Daddy
Zaire twisted his head to an older man who stood beside him. “If you wait, you’ll be here for hours. Shout, and you get their attention. Suck it up.” He returned to the bartender who had arrived with Zaire’s drink, and Zaire quickly waved his card over the machine to pay. “Thanks.” He nodded to the bartender and turned back to the guy. “See? If I were you, I’d shout. Loud.”
He pivoted on his heels and sashayed over to the dance floor. The problem with the public area of Infinity was the deafeningly loud music, whereas, for the members-only section, it was a lot more subdued. He’d never experienced it himself, but he’d been told when he’d inquired about the membership benefits. Maybe in a couple of years, he’d be able to save enough for a membership, but as it was, he was paying off his car and a mortgage, so money was tight, despite how much he worked.
Rolling his head on his neck to loosen the muscles, Zaire studied the patrons of the club. From what he could see, there were Doms and subs, puppy play, a Mummy and her boy, master and slave to name a few. When they said free-for-all, they really meant it. What Zaire couldn’t see was anyone looking like a Daddy. His shoulders slumped, and he blew out a breath. Why was it so difficult to find what he wanted? Soon, he would need to take an ad out to get people to interview for the position. He chuckled at that. It might be quite entertaining to see who turned up to such an advertisement.
“Hey, gorgeous. Are you here with someone or searching for someone?” a voice purred in Zaire’s ear.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a tall black guy with huge muscles whose demeanour screamed Master. Zaire smiled and whirled around to greet the guy. He never ignored people who approached him; it was a social nicety. “Hey! I am looking for someone, but I have a feeling you’re not going to be what I need, sir.”
“So polite. Are you sure?”
“May I ask a question, sir?” Despite not wanting what this Master was so obviously offering, Zaire knew to treat all dominants with respect. Disrespecting others got people kicked out of the club quicker than they could apologise.
“Go ahead.”
“Are you a Daddy?”
The Master smiled gently. “No, sweet boy. I know there are a couple here tonight, though I don’t know if they have boys themselves.” He slid a finger down Zaire’s cheek. “Thank you for checking with me. Good luck tonight.”
“Thank you, sir. And you.”
Zaire watched as the guy moved through the crowd before returning his gaze to the masses, trying to find those elusive Daddies.
After spending a couple of hours circling the hordes, finding a Daddy who, unfortunately, already had a boy and drinking some more but not enough to be drunk, Zaire had decided enough was enough. He stood at the bar, which was not as busy as earlier, and requested one more drink while he waited for his taxi to arrive.
As he brought the tumbler to his mouth, someone bumped into his back, spilling the drink on his shirt and skirt.
“What the fuck! Watch where you’re going! It’s not like I’m difficult to see wearing a bright redsatinshirt! Fucking thing is ruined now.” Zaire plucked the wet fabric away from his skin and grimaced. He would be stinking of whiskey for his journey home, and to top it all, his favourite top was toast.
“Sorry. I really am. Let me help…” the guy tried dabbling at the fabric with a napkin, but Zaire batted his hands away.
Zaire sighed. “Leave it. Just be more careful around other people. I’m outta here.”
Spinning around, he elbowed his way through the crowds to the entrance, pulling out a wet wardrobe ticket to retrieve his coat before exiting in the warm night. Staring up at the sky, he exhaled, shaking his head. Not only had the night been a total bust, but he’d ruined an outfit. He needed to sleep this night off and start fresh in the morning.
“That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?”
Zaire spun around, gripping the edges of his leather jacket as he identified the guy as being the older man from earlier, who’d called him out for pushing in at the bar.
“What’s it to you?”
“I thought the idea was to be polite to people.” He was stood outside the entrance doors but close enough Zaire didn’t have to strain to hear him.
“Maybe so. But sometimes you also need to tell someone when they’re being an ass,” Zaire countered.
The guy raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”
Zaire raised his chin. “Yeah.”
“In which case…” he paused, “you were an asshole.”
Stunned, Zaire blinked at the guy. He couldn’t believe he’d been called out on his behaviour when it was the other guy’s fault for knocking into him. He told the guy his thoughts.
“But you could have been nicer about it. He did apologise, and he did try to help clean up. Regardless of how it happened, the behaviour afterwards should have shown he was contrite. Your punishment didn’t fit his crime.”
The words “punishment” and “crime” wound Zaire up tighter, especially as there was no release in sight. But the guy had a point. “Shit,” he muttered, staring at his shoe as he swivelled one foot on his heel.
“Maybe you need to think aboutyouractions before reacting to outside influences.”
