The Collar Club - Chapter Two

More of the new story for your edification! Thank you as ever for your support!

Carmen’s height was impressive, even before she slipped into heeled boots. When she marched into the codes building, Carmen topped six feet. Her hair was dark and curled and bounced on her back and shoulders when she moved. Her gait was long but elegant, and there was purpose in it. The leather duster split at the back, and one could glimpse her fine and slender claves when the flaps of the duster waved, revealing the fiery red patent heels. Those long legs were encased in black leather, so tight her lack of underwear was apparent to anyone who bothered to look. The white top was unbuttoned enough to see the black bra beneath, collecting and lifting her generous chest. When she passed by the windows of the offices, men and women alike rose slightly from their chairs, hunger for a little more of her before she disappeared.

She was a wash of color in the industrial browns and grays of the civic building. Not even the framed glass doorways could offer any warmth, something Carmen noted as she pushed into an office. The plump woman behind the counter flushed red when she saw Carmen approaching. That fetched a half-smile from the dominatrix, who slid her sunglasses to the tip of her narrow nose.

“Can I help you?” There was skepticism in that questioning tone.

“I’m sure. I own a business called The Collar Club. We had an inspection yesterday.”

“If you would like to appeal-“

“Oh, no, you misunderstand. Apologies if I wasn’t being clear. We passed just fine.”

The plump woman had copper hair and rosy cheeks. If it weren’t for her dour expression, she’d be quite pretty, Carmen thought. She looked flummoxed now, expecting some kind of complaint out of Carmen. When there was none, she looked at a loss for how to speak to a woman like the towering dominant. Carmen knew her effect, on women as well as men. She could be easily dismissed on moral grounds, and so she killed with kindness.

“How may I help you, then?”

“The gentleman who performed the inspection. Eliot his name was. I wanted to pass along a number I’d promised. But, silly me, I lost his phone number and address. I’ll be out of your hair in a flash if I could just get his contact information.”

The round-faced attendant had a framed picture of her in a red Christmas sweater on a couch, a white long-haired dog on his back in her lap. The inverted lips of the dog made a goofy smile.

Flustered and bewildered by Carmen, the rotund woman turned to her computer and clicked out the request. She bent to a yellow pad of Post-it notes and scribbled the name and address. Her lips were pursed when she slid it across the counter to Carmen. When she took the note, Carmen brushed the tops of the older woman’s fingers in a gesture too sensual to be mistaken. Her pudgy face reddened more, and Carmen dropped her a wink as she turned away. It was fun to be in charge.

Eliot returned home to find a package on his doorstep. It was a plain brown box, his name on the top, but no packing slip or mailing label. This was dropped off in person. And there was the odd pink bow. Small, the kind you might see on a Christmas package, dwarfed by the size of the box it adorned. Frowning, Eliot climbed the short steps of his condo and lifted the box. It was lighter than he expected, hardly any weight at all, and there was a deep rattle as something bounced around on the bottom. He looked either way as he entered, but the neighbors he had kept to themselves, just as he did.

The door locked, his keys in the bowl on the counter by his refrigerator, Eliot found a boxcutter in the utility drawer. The kitchen and dining room were all one big room, so he moved quickly from the drawer to the box on his dining room table, which saw less dining and more packages than was intended.

A card was folded on top of a great wash of white and pink fabric. He could hardly tear his eyes away from the colors, but he managed to open the card and read the spidery black etching.

If you’re the kind of boy I think you are, you’ll enjoy this. Call Me sometime…

-Carmen

Beneath that, her number. Eliot’s heart hammered in his chest. He worried that he might blow a valve, and collapse at his kitchen table in his work clothes. When the medical examiner cut away his clothes, or whoever performed that grim task, they would find a pair of pale yellow panties. Fitting, he would be found out after the shock of being found out.

How had she known? His reaction in the pink room, of course. The way he’d studied it, was mesmerized by it. A woman like Carmen Nyte was no fool, as evidenced by the box on the table. Did she mean to blackmail him? She was out of luck on that front. He was in debt thanks to the condo and a necessary car purchase. And that was before student loans. No, it couldn’t be money. Then… what?

He read and re-read the note. Finding no deeper meaning, Eliot laid the card aside and investigated the contents of the gift box. It was an entire outfit, from stockings to top, including a garter belt he’d never attempted. The dress was small but made of a form-fitting material to hug his every curve, faint as they were. Around the waist was a satin pink sash. At the bottom of the box was a pair of white platform heels and a phone. He lifted the heels out, examined their impossible height, and placed them on the floor beside his feet, sitting upright as if he were going to step into them.

The phone was another matter. A burner, certainly cheap but inside a white case that had been adorned with rhinestones to give it a cheap extravagance. When he swiped it open, he found only one name in the contacts. Miss Carmen.

Eliot left the room in a haze, sitting heavily in the armchair aimed at the television. It wasn’t until he was looking at the black face of the thing that he realized he still held the bejeweled phone in his hand. He swiped it to life again and examined it more closely. He saw that the apps were comprised of a few social media services, messaging and photo apps, and a couple of brightly-colored match-three games. When he went into the settings, he saw that the phone was registered to a Cindee Sloan. The profile picture was a cartoon avatar of a blonde with huge boobs and a deep tan, diamond earrings dangling from her ears.

He jumped when the phone rang in his hand. The name Miss Carmen at the top, in the center a circular portrait of Carmen’s face, staring at him knowingly. The ringtone sounded a second time, a hip-hop club song he didn’t recognize, and the phone danced to the tune in his hand. Shakily, he swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“Cindee,” Carmen purred.

“That’s not my name. Look, this-“

“You answered her phone. And so you must be. I assume you received my gifts?”

“Yes, I did. Look, if it’s money you want, I don’t have-“

“Cindee, dear, you really should shut up and let me finish.” Carmen’s tone was playful, but there was no mistaking the command in her voice. For his part, Eliot grew quiet. “I don’t want your money. I doubt you have much. I don’t want to burn down your life or expose you at work. I only want you, Cindee.”

“I don’t understand,” he managed with a choked voice.

“Of course not. And frankly, your understanding is not my concern. What I want, Cindee, is for you to indulge those desires of yours, and I want you to allow me to guide you. I understand this is a big ask. But I believe you have been hiding these desires for some time. We enjoy the same things, Cindee. Why not meet me. One time. If you don’t enjoy it, we leave things as they were before. You can sit around your house in panties and bras and I’ll go my way. But, Cindee, if you do enjoy it, think of all the pleasure you can experience. Finally free to be who you truly are…”

She let the words hang between them. There was silence for more than a minute. Eliot could hear her breathing, steady and soft, while she awaited his response.

“Yes,” he finally said. Eliot’s mouth was dry and the word came as hardly more than a croak. “Yes,” he repeated. “When and where?”