Cat Haus - The Complete Story (10 page)

I started to see a niche market and I filled it. I didn't have the skills or the experience to be a dominatrix, but hell I figured I could learn enough to fake it. We did have Wi-Fi in the house. I could use a search engine as well as the next girl. You can find pretty much anything on the internet these days. And most of the men who came here interested in that kind of stuff just wanted the fantasy. They didn't live the BDSM lifestyle. If they had, they would have gone to one of the clubs catering to that specifically, not to a hooker in a brothel.

I started to dress more and more to fit the part. I bought new outfits. Black leather masks and bustiers. A latex catsuit. Thigh high boots with stiletto heels designed to hurt. I started carrying a flogger in the parlor and I invested in new toys to use on the men who wanted me to dominate them. I researched pegging and bought a strap-on harness with three different size dildos. I'd always owned a pair of handcuffs, but I upped my game and bought a ball gag, and a leash and collar.

I accumulated my accessories and wardrobe over the weeks following Gus's departure. I guess it kind of crept up on me, building, until one day I was starting to look like a full-fledged Domme.

When I went to a lineup suited up in an outfit so over the top that even the other girls looked at me funny, I realized I might have gone over the edge, but I couldn't help it. Gus had taken away my control the night of the poker game. I was taking it back now.

Though if I wanted to keep earning a living, I supposed I'd have to tone it down a bit. There were only so many men who came looking for what I could provide, and it wasn't going to be enough to keep Mistress stocked with new whips and riding crops.

And the strange part was, I was rarely having sex. I'd read online that many Dommes don't fuck their clients and my own experience supported that. I found that a lot of the men weren't looking for sex. Just for the domination. Yeah, they'd get off, but more often than not it was from them jerking themselves off while I fucked them in the ass with my strap-on. I was pretty deprived sexually, a state I wasn't used to since I was in the business of having sex. I was going to have to invest in a vibrating insert for my harness, or a double headed dildo so I could have some fun too.
 

So here I was, bitchy, horny as hell, and dressed like Cat Woman when Henry appeared in the parlor.

That was the other change around here, besides me going over to the dark side—Henry. John had made good on his promise to handle the management end of things as best he could. I'd suggested a madam, but he'd brought in Henry.

Henry was as gay as they came, but not in a fluttery, affected kind of way. More in a British, cultured kind of way. He didn't look twice at any of the girls or what we did. Not when he'd walked in to find us topless and comparing breast sizes in the parlor one day when we were bored. Not when Tiffany had been eating Sahara out on top of the bar for the entertainment of the men here for a bachelor party.

So yeah, he was definitely gay, but extremely professional and incredibly capable. It slipped out that he'd once managed a rock band, so he'd been around the block. I'm sure Henry had seen some crazy shit during that time. Pretty much nothing could throw him and around here, that was a good trait to have because things could get pretty weird.

His skillset and his demeanor combined made Henry the perfect fit for the job of manager—what we called him because he got mad when we joked around and called him a
madam
.

John had made a brilliant choice in choosing Henry. Hiring a straight guy to manage a whorehouse would be like having the fox guard the chicken coop. From the brief time he'd spent with slime ball Gus, John must have realized that. So Henry ran the place, and John was an absentee owner, but that was fine. We went on as usual and things were good. Different, but good.

But now Henry was here in the parlor and signaling me to come out into the hallway. My gut told me something out of the ordinary was going on.

"What's up?" I asked, pulling off my black mask so I could see better while I talked to him.

"Are you busy or can you come with me?"

I frowned, wondering what the mystery was that required I go with him. "I'm not with anyone right now, so yeah, I'm free. Why?"

He didn't answer my question, but led the way to the rooms that used to be Gus's living quarters. I hadn't been in there since the night of the poker game. I had no reason to be, and I was grateful for that fact. Bad memories all around. But it seemed as if I was going there now.

Henry lived on site, and the moment he opened the door to what had been Gus's sitting room I could see he'd redecorated the place to suit himself. Stereotype though it might be, I had to admire his flair and what he'd done with the space. The room had never looked so good when Gus lived here. Maybe John should let Henry and his decorating talents loose on the parlor. The bar area, as well.

"Cate."

I'd been so busy admiring the décor, and appreciating that the horrible table from the poker game was gone, I hadn't noticed John. He stood in the corner pouring a drink from a bottle on the side table set up as a bar.

I sure saw him now, and couldn't help thinking how damn good he looked. It was strange because impeccably dressed businessmen had never been my type. Though tall, dark and handsome men with wavy hair meant for touching and eyes the color of the ocean could totally be my new type.

"John. Hi. Or should I call you Mr. Hamilton?"

"John is fine." He cocked a brow and took me in from the top of my head where I had my hair pulled back into a severe bun, down the black latex of my figure-hugging catsuit, all the way to the tips of my high platform boots. "This is a new look for you. No?"

I shrugged. "Eh, you know. A girl likes to try something different once in a while."

I realized I was fiddling with the flogger in my hand and forced myself to stop. Seeing him again after all this time made me nervous and that made me fidgety. How long had it been? Close to a month, I'd guess.

"Yes, I see." He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. "Can I pour you a drink?"

"Sure. Why not?" I eyed the bottle. "It's not scotch, is it?"

The guy who'd bent me over the poker table and fucked me in front of Gus, John and that guy I'd never met before and would be happy to never meet again had been drinking scotch that night. I didn't think I could stand to smell it, forget about drink it.

"No. It's honey-flavored bourbon actually. Not a very manly liquor, I guess . . . "

"It sounds perfect. Thank you." I knew from experience John was all man. He didn't need his choice of alcohol to reinforce that. I smiled. "So you do drink. I was beginning to wonder."

He stepped forward and handed me a glass. "I only don't drink when I'm gambling, but I'm not playing cards tonight."

I took the glass he handed me and pressed it to my lips. The bourbon was sweet on my tongue but burned a trail down my throat and into my belly. It felt nice, like a fire chasing away the shadows.

"It's good. I like it."

"I'm glad. So tell me how things are going here. I'm trusting you to give me the truth, Cate."

"You afraid Henry is blowing smoke up your ass?"

His lips twitched. "Interesting visual, but no. I trust Henry implicitly. He's worked for me for years. But I'm also smart enough to know any number of issues can exist in a business that management might never know about."

"So I'm like your corporate spy?" I raised a brow.

"Not at all. I'd ask the same question of any of the girls. I'm asking you because I know you and I trust you."

He trusted me. He just obviously didn't want to bed me again—not since seeing me in action, in all my hooker glory, thanks to Gus.

"Things are fine. I don't know what the profits are like compared to before. Henry or Mona would be the ones to tell you that. But I know business is steady and the other girls seem to be doing all right."

John nodded. "And you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The kneejerk answer spilled out automatically.

"So you keep saying." He took another sip while he watched me. I noticed his drink was nearly empty.

"Let me refill that for you." I stepped forward and he let me take the glass from his hand. I turned away from him to put both of our glasses, and the flogger and mask I'd had shoved under my arm, on the table. I reached for the bottle as I asked, "Is that why you're here today? To check up on business?"

"Yes." His answer came from closer behind me than I'd expected.

"No other reason?" I remained facing away from him and splashed an inch of the golden liquid into his glass. It was easier to broach the subject this way.

"What other reason? Say it, Cate. I can tell something is on your mind."

I finally turned to face him, though I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. "It's just that Gus used to take the girls to his bed, pretty much every night. Now that you're the owner, I was wondering if you'd do the same."

His brows rose. "I wasn't aware he'd done that. How did the girls feel about that practice?"

I shrugged. "It's what we expected from him, so it was just part of the job."

"And that was all right with you? You didn't mind?"

"Me? I hated it, but that's because I hated him." I drew in a breath and decided on a whim to turn, pick the bottle back up and splash a bit more into my own glass. Not so much that I wanted it, but because I needed something to do and an excuse to not look at John during this conversation. My back to him, I continued, "I only brought the subject up because I'm sure the girls are wondering. At least, I know I was wondering."

He stepped behind me and with one hand on my arm, turned me to face him. "I'm not the type of man to force myself on women based on my authority over them."

"I know. But I'm sure there are many of us who wouldn't mind. Would like it, even." The memory of the poker game hit me. I remembered John's expression, so disgusted he was unable to watch the Texan screw me in front of him. What the hell was I doing? He didn't want me now. "I mean, I know you're not interested in me but the other girls would—"

My heart pounded faster when he cupped my chin and forced me to look up at him. "Who said I'm not interested in you?"

I shrugged and wished he'd release his hold on me because looking at him now was too damn hard. The insecurity I felt in his presence was nearly crippling. "I just figured you probably didn't want me. I saw you look away during . . ." I had to swallow before I went on, "during what happened at the poker game."

"Cate, I looked away because the only thing worse than that asshole doing that to you, would have been me watching while it happened." His tone was hard.

"I figured you were disgusted by me. I mean knowing I'm a hooker is one thing, but seeing me in action—"

"Listen to me. I was disgusted that night. At Gus for making you do that. At the fucking idiot who took him up on the offer." John let out a snort. "At myself for sitting there and not stopping it from happening. But never once was I disgusted by you."

I shrugged because the tears were close enough to the surface I was afraid to speak.

"Cate, the only thing keeping me from stripping you out of this thing you're wearing and taking you here and now is respect for you. I'm not Gus. I would never presume to take liberties with you because I'm your boss."

Forcing myself to look at him, I saw the sincerity in his eyes. It sent a wave of warmth flooding through me equal to the burn of the bourbon. "Maybe I want you to take liberties."

John's eyes narrowed. He settled his hands on my hips and took a step closer, pulling me forward to close the remaining distance between us. I clearly felt the outline of his erection. He pressed against me harder. "I think the fact that I want you is fairly obvious."

Fuck Gus. Fuck the Texan. I refused to let them continue to have a hold over me any longer. What mattered was the man in front of me. The one who swore he wanted me. The one I needed right now more than I needed air to breathe.

"Then what are you waiting for?" I'd tried to sound like a seductress, but to my own ears I'd still sounded insecure.

He hesitated and glanced around us. "This is Henry's home now. We shouldn't—"

"Henry won't mind." I leaned in.

"You don't think so?" His lips were so close to mine it was all I could do to not yank his head down and claim them.

"He lives to make you happy."

"Does he?" John ran his hands over me until he palmed my ass. "And you?"

"Me too." I moved my pelvis against his. I needed this man inside me.

"I certainly don't want to disappoint two people so dedicated to keeping me happy."

"Then you'd better lock that." I glanced at the door.

John let go of me long enough to flip the button in the doorknob. When he came back to stand in front of me, he eyed my outfit again. "I'm not exactly sure where to start. How do I get you out of this?"

"It's easy." I reached for the neckline and grasped the tab hidden there.
 

His gaze followed the path of the zipper as I lowered it between my breasts, down my belly, all the way to the crotch. He moved the sides of the catsuit wider, bringing it over my shoulders and down my arms to expose the black leather of my bra. His pupils narrowed to pinpoints as they focused on my nipples showing above the top of the bra's low cut demi-cups. He pushed the outfit lower, until it hung around my hips and exposed my black leather thong underwear.