Page 2 of Friends with Benefits (Club Risqué)

It was a balance that was quite breathtaking when it was done properly, and a philosophy that was at the very heart of the BDSM lifestyle.

ChapterTwo

Trinity made her way down the hall to her private office. She needed to check on the video feeds for the downstairs platforms and the individual playrooms. Those rooms were all themed.

There was a chic French boudoir. The staid headmaster's study with a row of canes displayed behind a huge desk. A meticulous medical room featuring a recliner complete with stirrups. A jail cell, mediaeval turret room, a wet room, a throne room, a boardroom, and the high-tech suspension chamber.

Every conceivable kind of fantasy could be played out within these walls, but absolutely no one was above surveillance.

The rooms all encompassed viewing areas, both within the room itself and through the huge floor to ceiling picture windows. However, they could all be made private through the closing of doors and pulling of drapes for those who didn't display exhibitionist tendencies.

But, no matter what, every inch of the entire club was rigged for video monitoring. From the public areas to the car park, and every nook and cranny in between.

The only places that were exempt were the private offices and the toilet stalls. Even the locker rooms were covered. Discreetly, of course.

Just as she was done, there was a light tap on her door and Trinity's boss walked in.

Micah Flynn was panty melting hot, seriously ripped, and exceptionally skilled in every area of his expertise, from business, to psychology, to dominance. He also looked like your quintessential surfer dude, beach bum.

If there was ever a stereotype for the saying 'looks can be deceiving,' then Micah Flynn was it. His naturally streaky blond hair was long and curling, and his muscular frame could probably put a few bodybuilders to shame. He looked like he had muscles on some of his muscles, and he was in equal amounts as cheery and easygoing as he could be serious and contemplative. The man was a chameleon, and even Trinity wasn't entirely sure which incarnation most closely reflected his true character.

"Everything okay, sprite?" he asked, using the nickname only he could get away with.

"Yep, everything is smooth sailing right now, boss."

"Then why are you looking so tired?"

Trinity swung her office chair from side to side and shrugged. "I don't know, to be honest, Micah. I am feeling a bit wrung out, but it's not really anything I can put my finger on. Perhaps it's just because things have slackened off a little, at last, after getting this place up and running. I finally have the chance to stop and think about being tired," she suggested with a jaded laugh.

"Or maybe it's because you haven't had a session for a couple of months," Micah countered. "I've been unusually tied up since I became Cha-cha's training Dom, but Jake Blackwood has taken over that responsibility now, so perhaps we should schedule a get-together."

Trinity stretched her back in an attempt to ease her shoulders. Yeah, maybe Micah was right and that was just what she needed. He circled behind her and placed his big hands on her shoulders, kneading the tight, knotted muscles in her slight frame.

As a couple—not that they were one—they looked incongruous.

Trinity was as slight as Micah was built. While he did a good impression of a modern-day He-man, Trinity was more like a contemporary version of Tinkerbell—only without the curves, which was kind of sad.

She was used to being referred to as a fairy due to her tiny, dainty stature. She barely topped five feet tall and, if she felt like it, she could buy clothes from the children's sections marked for ten-year-olds. She had long since accepted the fact that she was never going to grow up to be tall and curvy, and instead made the best of what she'd gotten.

Just as she'd embraced the realisation, five years ago, that she identified as a service submissive. She gained her satisfaction by providing for a Dom's needs or advancing their goals.

In the club environment, rather than a personal one, that generally meant being available in a more supportive capacity, like volunteering to be the guinea pig for a Dom who was honing his skills and needed to practise. Making herself available to out-of-town guest members, who didn't have time to trawl the submissive pool. And occasionally providing personal services such as massages was also in her description.

In that respect, working at Club Risqué was her dream job.

True, things had been a bit dicey in those early years, since she'd been a big hit with the Daddy Doms, but, as much as she lived to serve, being a little was not in Trinity's make up.

To that end, she had cut off her long, fair hair, dyed it poppy red, and styled it in a pixie cut which suited her delicate elfin features and huge silvery eyes.

The decision had also served to sever one of the final strands from her past.

It was ironic though, that she had come to find herself and embrace her individuality in the very lifestyle that had caused her so much emotional anguish in those days before she had discovered submission as a means to sate her servitude, rather than have it taken advantage of.

Fate could be a downright bitch sometimes.

Trinity sighed as Micah's clever fingers unknotted the tension she hadn't realised she was carrying. She didn't answer him straight away, though, instead doing a little digging of her own.

"So, what's the deal with Jake taking over Charlotte's contract then? I honestly thought you might decide to take things a step further with Cha-cha," she queried, reverting back to Charlotte Chapman's club name.

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