‘You love her, you silly cow. Admit it,’ she muttered to herself, blowing out smoke.
That day Emma had walked into the club, that was a great day.
Allyson was holding an open audition, in the early days of the Geisha Garden. She had no idea what she would get when she advertised, so she was finding the process entertaining, if not particularly helpful. She’d been running it for a month or so. When McKenna had asked her, she’d practically spat out her cig.
‘Spanking club? Are you serious?’
‘Deadly. It’s big, Al. Kink is big. Has to go underground because people are judgemental like that, still.’
‘Yeah, like they’re judgemental about your little sidelines, can’t think why.’
‘Don’t be smart. That’s different. This shouldn’t be illegal. It’s just people enjoying themselves. Come on, you’ve got clients coming out of your ears. You know how popular this stuff is.’
‘So you want me to whack people’s backsides as, like, some kind of act?’
‘No, it’s not going to be like that. It’s going to be girls getting spanked.’
She sat up. ‘Now you’re talking.’
‘Submissive men can find a domme in the Yellow Pages, pretty much. But it’s not so easy for the men who like to dish it out. Sure there’s Fetlife and all that, but I gather a willing bottom is still pretty hard to find, and there’s all the messaging and trying to impress the sub and meeting up and not fancying each other. It’s a hassle, Al. Plenty of guys don’t have time for that. So, I thought, a nice private club where girls with gorgeous bums are on call whenever. Do you get my drift?’
‘That could work,’ she said thoughtfully.
&nbs
p; ‘So are you in?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, go on then. But I get to pick the girls.’
‘Carte blanche, Al. Carte fucking blanche.’
She’d scribbled her tastes all over that carte blanche. She’d started up with four attractive, submissive girls she knew from the scene already, but the concept had proved an immediate hit – appropriately enough – and she needed more, a dozen at least.
So there she was, looking at a big group of all kinds, types, shapes and sizes of women. A couple of men had chanced their arm, too, but she’d taken their numbers and said she’d ask the big boss about setting up a gay night or two sometime.
Those who were left were an interesting variety. There were the usual wannabe actresses who showed up for everything. There were a number of emo-looking young women, pierced and tattooed and looking for a passage through university. There were older women too, and representatives of a galaxy of nationalities. But Allyson wasn’t looking for girls who could dance or sing. She didn’t even care that much about pretty faces.
She needed good bottoms, and that was the bottom line.
‘OK, ladies,’ she said. ‘This might be the weirdest audition or interview or whatever of all time, but I’m only going to ask you to do one thing for me right now. I want you to turn your backs to me and drop your trousers, skirts, whatever you’re wearing. I need a good look at your arses. Do you think you can do that for me?’
There was a great deal of nervous laughing, and chattering, and shrillness, but eventually all of the women – some thirty or so – lined up on the stage and revealed their bottoms.
Any that were too flat or too saggy were sent away. Small was fine, big was fine, but firmness and roundness were nonnegotiable.
Of the twenty that remained, Allyson asked each about their experience in BDSM and made her selections on that basis.
Now that she had her twelve, she sat them down to go through terms, conditions, expectations, wages and so on.
She was halfway through her spiel when a breathless woman appeared at the door.
‘Oh God, am I too late? The tube broke down just outside Kilburn. Seriously, am I too late?’
Allyson looked at her, unsmiling, and said, ‘’Fraid so.’
‘Shit,’ said the girl. Then she turned around to leave.
That bum, in its tight, tight skirt. It seemed to quiver without even being touched.