The knotted wood of the doorframe pressed into Hermione's arm as she rested against it. Hot tubs nestled in each corner of the room as women in various states of undress relaxed in the warm water. Some simply chatted and sipped from Champagne flutes, while others kissed potential new playmates. The room behind her buzzed with excitement as a group of women gathered around a large dining table, food being served to them from the adjoining kitchen.
A gentle buzzing interrupted Hermione's thoughts as she looked around. Her phone. She reached into her pocket and when she looked up again, the soft lighting and plethora of women had disappeared, replaced with harsh concrete and decrepit old tables and chairs.
It had been nearly three years since she'd opened Slick; Bristol's premiere sapphic BDSM club. The ground floor was unrecognisable compared to when she first set foot in it. This floor, however, was a work in progress. Or it would be. Just as soon as she had enough money.
Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she tapped the screen of her phone to see a message from Pansy.
Want to play? I can come to the club one night this week?
Hermione looked back up at the mass of bare walls, sighing heavily. She hoped it wouldn't take much longer before she could begin work on this floor, but also knew that Ginny, her accountant-come-best-friend-and-assistant-manager would think otherwise. Looking at the phone again, the time stared back at her; 7:36pm. It was nearly opening time. She should be downstairs making sure everything was ready. She tapped a quick reply to Pansy.
Sure, I'll let you know what night.
She pocketed her phone before taking one last look at the depressing sight around her and making her way downstairs. As she pushed open the door to the ground floor, she plastered a cheery smile on her face. Sunday nights at the club might be quiet, but she wanted everyone who visited to have the time of their lives. Part of that meant ensuring her staff were happy and ready to welcome guests.
"'Mione, I was just looking for you." Ginny waved a tablet at Hermione. "We've got two new members coming in at nine to register. Do you want to take them or shall I?"
"You've got the accounts to work on, right? I'll take care of the registration."
"Okay, thanks, they've filled out everything online so it should be a simple one. I'll be in the office if there's nothing else you need?" Ginny tucked long, red hair behind her ears.
"Nothing else, thanks, Gin. I'll do the rounds."
Hermione made her way around the club, checking on everyone, before unbolting the main door and welcoming a handful of people in. It was still early and she knew it would be an hour or two before most arrived.
The evening passed quickly and Hermione soon found herself sitting alone in the office, the only light coming from the small lamp on her desk. She could message Pansy asking if she wanted to come to the club now; she'd likely still be up. Maybe it was just what she needed. Pansy on her knees, begging for more. The creak of the door opening pulled her from her reverie.
"Drink?" Ginny sat herself in the empty chair across the desk and placed a tumbler of whisky in front of each of them.
"Thanks, Gin." Hermione picked up the heavy glass, swishing the dark amber liquid over the ice.
"What's up, 'Mione? You don't seem yourself tonight?"
Hermione took a few sips and relaxed back in her chair as the whisky loosened her shoulders. "It's nothing, I just wish we could renovate upstairs sooner rather than later."
Ginny nodded knowingly, this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. "You'll get there, this place is doing well. Just think how far it's come along compared to the events you used to hold in random buildings."
Hermione smiled warmly at her best friend. She appreciated how she was always there for her, words of encouragement on the tip of her tongue whenever they were needed. "I know, you're right as always. I just hoped we'd be there by now."
"The books are looking good, we're up on last year, the website has made a big difference." Ginny drained the rest of the liquid from her glass. "Another or are you off home?"
"I'm going to get to bed I think." She'd message Pansy another night, it was nearly 2am and bed seemed like the best idea. Hopefully, she'd wake up in less of a funk tomorrow.
"Home it is."
The club safely secured for the night, Hermione unlocked the door that led to the flat above. Living upstairs was a godsend when finishing work so late. Crookshanks meowed at her, winding around her feet as she flicked on a light. She picked him up, running a hand over his orange fur as he purred loudly in her ear.
Deciding he'd been petted enough, he jumped down and ran to the bedroom, Hermione following. She quickly undressed before pulling open a drawer and finding a vest top to slip on. A few minutes later, teeth brushed, she climbed into bed, glad of the warmth from the thick duvet.
She knew a lot of people working in clubs found it difficult to wind down and would be up for hours after getting home, but she preferred to get up early so always went straight to bed. On nights she felt too wired, or stressed, like tonight, she'd reach into her bedside table and choose from the selection of toys she kept there. An orgasm or two always ensured she slept well.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione pulled the covers over her head, but it was no use. Crookshanks continued to bat a paw at her face, demanding breakfast. She reached for her phone, turning off the 7am alarm before it had a chance to beep obnoxiously at her. The mass of orange fur jumped about excitedly, trotting off to the kitchen to sit and meow by his bowl.
The early morning light flooded the bedroom as Hermione pulled the curtains open, Crookshanks' pitiful pleading becoming louder by the second.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Hermione laughed. Reaching the kitchen, she pulled a pouch of food from the cupboard and fed the demanding feline. "There we go, you won't starve after all."
Showered and coffee in hand, she sat on the sofa scrolling through Instagram as multiple notifications popped up alerting her to likes and comments. The automated post advertising the club's Valentine's Day event had gone live, with just five weeks to go. It seemed to be going down well, giving Hermione just the boost she needed that morning. The club was thriving, and Ginny was right; the first-floor renovations would happen soon enough.
Coffee finished, she threw on her coat and scarf and headed out onto Gloucester Road. The air still had a bite to it, but the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She just had to be patient, the club really was doing well and had plenty to offer.
It didn't take her long to make it across town and she soon found herself knocking at Mrs Trelawney's - or Sybill as she always told Hermione to call her - door.
"Hermione, my dear, how lovely to see you! Come in, come in!" Sybill greeted her warmly as she took a few steps back, pulling the old wooden door open.
"I got us our usual pastries." Hermione offered up the cardboard box that held their breakfast.
It had become a comfortable routine over the last six years or so. Of course, when Hermione lived next door, they had coffee together most mornings. Sybill had seen her moving in and invited her to dinner, insisting she was too skinny and needed a good home-cooked meal, and then turned up at her door inviting her to breakfast the next morning. Hermione was glad of the company and an easy friendship quickly developed. The almost four-decade age gap went by largely unnoticed, only usually being acknowledged when Sybill spoke of a simpler life before mobile phones and technology "melted people's brains" as she liked to say.
"I'll make us some coffee." Sybill's long, wavy hair flowed behind her as she pushed round, black glasses up her nose and headed for the kitchen.
"Can I help?" Hermione asked, as she always did.
"No, no, my dear, you sit down and make yourself comfortable."
Coat and scarf removed, Hermione sat in the corner of the over-stuffed sofa, brushing the short hair at the nape of her neck back into place. Her scarf always messed it up. She looked around as the clatter of plates sounded from the kitchen. The house hadn't changed much in the time she'd known Sybill. The sideboard next to her held a collection of ornaments and photo frames. She ran a finger over the ornate, gold detail of one particular frame she recognised. It used to hold a photo of a young boy, maybe ten or twelve years old she guessed, but at some point all photos of him had disappeared, the frames now filled with photos of Mrs Pickles; Sybill's much-loved cat.
Hermione had never asked about the boy, not wanting to pry. She assumed it must be a child that was lost at a young age and didn't want to bring up painful memories. Sybill had shared so many stories of her life, if she'd wanted to share this one, she would have.
Once Hermione had moved from the house next door to live above Slick, Monday morning trips to the bakery and then to Sybill's had become their new routine. She visited at other times of course, but Monday mornings were their unspoken agreement.
Sybill returned, a floral melamine tray being carefully carried. She set it down on the coffee table, taking a seat on the sofa across from Hermione.
"There's the money for the pastries, my dear." Sybill nodded at the folded note that sat on the tray as she handed Hermione a small plate.
"Mrs Trelawney," Hermione started but soon noticed the insistent look on the other woman's face. "Sybill. You don't need to give me the money for the pastries, and that would be far too much anyway. You rent the club space to me at a huge discount, for which I am eternally grateful. The least I can do is buy us a few croissants and things."
Sybill batted a hand in Hermione's direction. "Nonsense, dear, I'm happy to help. You know that."
"Well, I appreciate it more than I can tell you." Hermione smiled warmly, it didn't matter how many times she showed her gratitude, she never felt like it was enough.
"How is business at Slick? Have you found yourself a nice young lady yet?" Sybill paused, chuckling to herself. "You must have your pick of them there, surely?"
Hermione shook her head, laughing. "I told you, I'm not looking for that right now. Business is going well though, the Valentine's event seems to be filling up quite quickly."
"You need to have some fun, while you're still young!" Sybill sipped at her coffee and took a bite of the pastry. "These really are delicious."
"I have plenty of fun, I promise you," Hermione laughed.
"I suppose that's something. Just remember, when the right person comes along, don't be scared to jump in head first. You only get one chance at love, don't waste it."
"I won't, I promise!"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"Bring me the paperwork for the Greengrass case, call Mr Rookwood and arrange a meeting for tomorrow and then you can pick up my lunch. Don't forget the boardroom needs setting up for this afternoon as well." Bellatrix sighed heavily as she watched the latest temp scramble for a paper and pen to write down her instructions.
"Yes, Ms Black, right away," the flustered assistant replied diligently, but Bellatrix was already back in her office.
"Honestly, where do they find these temps," she muttered under her breath. Tight black curls fell forward over her face as she sat back at her desk, head in hands. How was it only Wednesday? This week felt like it would never end. There had been several fifteen-hour days at the office over the last few weeks and they were taking their toll, along with losing her assistant of twelve years. She'd offered her anything she could to get her to stay, but it was no use, and now she was stuck with random temps until she had time to fully interview and train someone.
Bellatrix loved her work, she really did, but she also loved to play. And there hadn't been much of that lately. Her assistant waltzed in without so much as a knock, practically causing steam to escape from Bellatrix's ears.
"Here's your lunch, Ms Black, and the Rookwood files." She deposited both items proudly in front of Bellatrix, blissfully unaware of her mix-up.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
5pm came and went, but by 8pm, Bellatrix had decided enough was enough. She needed a few hours at home to do something other than sleep. When she pulled onto her driveway, she was surprised to see lights on. This could only mean one thing; her sisters were helping themselves to her wine collection again. Hopefully, they'd at least cooked so she didn't have to wait for food to be delivered. It had been hours since she'd eaten, her lunch remained on her desk untouched, and now she was truly starving.
"Bella!" chimed her two sisters in unison as she entered the kitchen.
Narcissa reached into a cupboard to pull out a third wine glass, pouring a large helping of the ruby red liquid for her eldest sister. "You look like you need it."
"Thanks, Cissy." Bellatrix swirled the glass a few times before taking a few large gulps. It slipped down her throat far too easily, she couldn't afford to be hungover tomorrow. Her stomach rumbled as she eyed the takeout cartons on the counter.
"Here, eat," Andromeda instructed, handing her a plate and some cutlery.
"Thanks, Andy." Bellatrix took another gulp of wine and served herself some noodles. As the scent of lemongrass and chilli hit her, she was never more grateful to get home and find her sisters intruding in her space. The thought of cooking or waiting for delivery was too much.
"You've got to look after yourself better, Bella," Narcissa fussed.
"I'm fine, it's just been a long week already and my assistant is less than useless."
Narcissa quirked up an eyebrow. "Pansy? She seems sweet. She was helping me earlier. Give her a chance, Bella."
Bellatrix groaned as she took another bite of dinner. She didn't need sweet. She needed competent.
"Why are you both so busy right now? I thought you took on more people?" Andromeda queried.
"We did, but I have this one case that's just taking up a lot of time," Bellatrix explained.
"Of course, Andy, if you finally came and joined us at Black and Associates, you would know this." Narcissa looked pointedly towards the middle Black sister.
"So I too can be as stressed and tired as Bella here? No thanks."
"But I get to be stressed and tired in a house big enough for all three of us to fit in when you visit," Bella chided.
"Hey, my flat is plenty big enough for you both to visit, we come here so we can steal the good wine," Andromeda laughed. "Besides the non-profits I work for need me more than the rich people paying you."
Bellatrix emptied the remainder of her glass and gestured to Narcissa for the bottle. "Cissy and I do our bit with the pro bono hours we give you. Mum and Dad always wanted all three of us as the heads of the firm when they retired."
Andromeda's face scrunched up into a grimace. "Yeah, well. Mummy and Daddy dearest don't always get what they want, do they? As much as that pains them."
"Enough, you two," Narcissa warned, giving them both a stern look.
"What do you say to taking this into the living room?" Bellatrix asked. She'd been sitting in an office chair of one sort or another for over twelve hours, she needed a nice, comfy sofa to relax into.
"Great idea!" Andromeda declared. "I'll light the fire. Cissy, you get another bottle of wine!"
Ten minutes later, Bellatrix had changed into silky pyjamas and found herself relaxing on the large sofa she loved so much. She looked around for her phone, certain she'd placed it next to her wine glass before going upstairs to change. Then it dawned on her why her two sisters were so quiet, huddled over a shared screen.
"What are you two doing? Give me my phone!"
"Relax, Bella, we're just trying to help," Narcissa answered, without so much as even looking up.
"We're finding you a woman to have some fun with! You need to let loose a little," Andromeda added.
"A woman? How exactly are you finding me a woman? And I let loose plenty I'll have you both know!" Bellatrix did her best to look affronted, but she was too tired to put all that much effort into it.
"Chill, it's just a dating app," Andromeda answered.
"A dating app? You registered me on a dating app?" She jumped up from the sofa and stomped over to the two women who sat in front of the fire. "Give me that!" She snatched the phone and climbed back onto the sofa.
"Everyone uses them, Bella. Have a look, you just have to swipe yes or no until you match with someone. It's easy."
"Thanks, Cissy, but my objection wasn't based on how difficult it was to use. What have you even put about me?" She tapped at the phone, surprised to see how right they'd gotten things.
"You forget how well we know you, Bella!" Andromeda teased.
Bellatrix had to admit it was tempting, she didn't exactly have the time these days to meet people in the real world.
"See, Bella, you're curious really." Narcissa stood up to pour herself some more wine.
"Hmm," Bellatrix mused. "But that doesn't mean you two can set me up on any other apps!"
"Of course we wouldn't," Narcissa giggled.
"You two are drunk," Bellatrix observed.
"Cross my heart," Andromeda added while drawing a cross over her heart with a finger.
"None of these women are my type," Bellatrix grumbled.
"What? Available?" Andromeda laughed loudly at her own joke.
Bellatrix glared once again. She knew her sisters meant well. "You're one to talk." She continued swiping at the screen. Pretty, but a little too innocent. Attractive, but just not right. Too young. Too old. What age range had her sisters set? "This is pointless, I can't tell on here if we're into the same things."
"You mean you can't tell on there if they want you to tie them up and spank them senseless?" Andromeda asked.
"Well, that's not quite how I'd put it," Bellatrix huffed, "but yes."
"So message Alecto," Narcissa suggested.
"No," Bellatrix answered simply.
"What about a club then?" Andromeda asked, reaching for her own phone. "Let's see. No, that's not right. Straight, no. Oh! Here we go! Some place called Slick. On Gloucester Road. Here you go." She sent her sister the link.
Bellatrix looked at the site dubiously. How had she not come across this place before? Maybe it was a good idea for another time, but right now, work was taking all of her energy. She yawned. It was late already. "Okay, you two, you can stay if you want, but I'm going to bed. I have to be up early again tomorrow."
Narcissa gave her sister a concerned look. "Just have a look, Bella. You can't work nonstop."
"Fine, but not right now, I'm tired." She took herself off to bed, leaving her sisters to entertain themselves.
Bellatrix reached for the hand cream on her nightstand, squirting some into her palm. She breathed in the citrusy scent as she massaged it in. Perhaps she could call Alecto, invite her over on Saturday evening. No. She was done with her. Besides, she wanted someone new, someone with some mystery. She wanted to discover all the places someone liked to be kissed and teased, how to take them right to the edge and back again. To watch how they reacted the first time her paddle landed on the soft curve of their ass.
She pressed her thighs together, feeling herself becoming wet at the thought. It was only last month she'd spent a few nights with Alecto, which might not seem all that long ago, but by Bellatrix's usual standards, this was practically a drought. Of course, Alecto had to go and ruin things with talk of them getting back together. It was then that Bellatrix knew she had to kiss goodbye to the most submissive plaything she'd ever known. It had been years since they'd dated and that had just reaffirmed Bellatrix's distaste for romantic entanglements. When becoming involved again, she'd made her intentions perfectly clear; sex was all that was on the table. She'd believed Alecto when she'd insisted that was all she wanted as well, but a few too many drinks at a Christmas party, and all of her true desires had come pouring out, much to Bellatrix's horror.
Part intrigue and part desperation had her picking up her phone and looking at the website for Slick again. She needed to have some fun. She needed a release. The front page of the site displayed info for their Valentine's event; that she certainly wouldn't be attending. Ignoring the red hearts and devil horns, she navigated to the gallery. The club was decorated tastefully; deep purples accentuated with black and silver, and a more than satisfactory range of bondage furniture. It puzzled her still how she hadn't found the club before.
Moving back to the menu, she saw the registration option. The form asked a few more questions than you might expect for a club, which she was sure put some people off. Better that the club took consent and safety seriously though, rather than letting anyone through the door.
Questions answered and personal details completed, it took her to a calendar to book a time for completing her registration in person with the club's manager or assistant manager. She selected 8.30pm on Saturday. Suddenly this week was looking up.