Maisy's Keeper: Club Drift, Book One (The Club Drift Series 1)

by Saffron Hayes

  Maisy felt herself relax, Claude was just another client who needed a little help turning his ideas into a plan. She could do this. “So I’m going to need some information from you so I can prepare some ideas. The next stage is me walking you through what I come up with and then we decide together how to move forward, okay?”

  “Perfect. I must thank you again for doing this, Maisy. It is good to be passing this on to somebody we can trust.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, “I’m looking forward to it.” But inside her mind the twin demons of insecurity and shame were fighting for her attention.

  What if you can’t do something that Claude will like? What if you can, but Michael ruins it? What if Michael finds out about Maisy’s connection to Drift? She pushed the unpleasant thoughts away.

  “On second thoughts, Claude, it might be better if I email you this list of questions - it’s getting long. For now though, what is it you want in a nutshell?”

  “A big question for a nutshell, petite. What I want is, I believe, called a formal event in your business. There will be speeches, so a stage, perhaps. I would like to be able to serve a meal, but I understand there may be practicality and privacy concerns. I would like to show off my club at its best and celebrate everything that we are. I am sorry. It is vague.”

  Maisy had scribbled down notes as he spoke. Notes that covered far more than what Claude had actually said, “No, that’s great. I just need a starting point. We can get specific next time we speak, when I have something to show you.”

  “Excellent. I can get Daniel to text you the appropriate email address to use?”

  “That’s perfect. It’ll just be some logistical stuff for now. Rough numbers for attendance, facilities, stuff like that.”

  “D’accord. No problem at all.”

  “Great. So I should have something to show you by Saturday if you’re available?” She meant ‘if you’re at the club’, but she didn’t want to say too much out loud, Michael was still lingering like a bad smell.

  “Indeed. I look forward to seeing what you have for us, Maisy.”

  “Thanks Claude. Speak soon.”

  She put the phone back on her desk with her hand that was only shaking a tiny bit, really.

  Claude had been reassuring and easy to talk to, as usual, so at least all she had to worry about was everything else going wrong, not the client being difficult.

  “What account was that,” Michael leaned on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the notes she’d been making.

  She pulled her chair forward slightly, forcing him to move to the side of her desk, “No-one yet. Just a query that I’m putting a proposal together for.” She bent over her work and continued making notes, hoping he’d get bored and leave her to it.

  “What’s the company?”

  “He wasn’t specific.” Maisy felt hot, as if the marks from the night before were glowing bright red, a brand for anyone to see.

  Michael tutted, “Well, what’s the name? Is it worth chasing?”

  “Leroy. Mr. Leroy.”

  “Leroy?” He suddenly looked more interested than Maisy was comfortable with, “Not Monsieur Leroy?”

  Shit. “I don’t know,” she said, keeping her tone light and disinterested, “He was French.”

  “For fuck sake, Maisy. Next time just come straight to me, yeah? We’ve got to get him in for a full presentation, all the bells and whistles. Saturday did he want it? Leave it to me, we’ll land the whale.” He clapped his hands together and grinned hungrily. Was there anything so repulsive as a talentless man with power?

  Panicking internally, Maisy tried to appear calm, “Sure.” There was still a chance Michael would be too drunk or disinterested to put a pitch of any sort together by Saturday, anyway. She could still get control of this.

  “You should really be doing something else, you know.”

  She answered, “I’m sorry?” For a moment Maisy thought he was talking to someone else, but she knew nobody else had entered the office floor.

  “This isn’t really your thing, is it?” Michael said, smoothing his over-gelled blond hair back with an indifferent shrug. “You’d be better off as a waitress or something I reckon. You’re good with people and your arse is bound to bring in the tips. You’d probably make more than we pay you working down the pub if you wore a short skirt.”

  Maisy had heard people say their brain short-circuited before, but she had never really understood the phrase until that moment. Michael’s sexist commentary definitely went into her brain through her ears, but it was so bizarre and outdated her software encountered a problem when trying to interpret the data input.

  The unfortunate effect of this temporary malfunction was that she sat gaping at Michael like a goldfish rather than telling him where to stick his short skirts and 1950s management style.

  “Send the details on to me when you get a chance, yeah?” He winked and made a clucking noise with his mouth. The one people usually use to persuade horses to giddy up.

  “Bloody cheek,” she said, long after Michael had stalked away to his office, because she really didn’t know what else to say.

  Chapter 20

  Just A Client

  It seemed to Maisy that as the rest of the world moved forwards in time, Michael went backwards. The longer he was the manager of the company, the further his attitudes seemed to regress. Maybe he was merely growing more comfortable in his position and expressing views he’d always had to a broader range of people.

  It wasn’t just the sexism and racism and...well all the -isms, to be quite honest, he was also bewilderingly old fashioned in his approach to the event planning business.

  The company had a few huge sheds on Michael Snr.’s land an hour outside London. The kind of sheds you could happily store a small aircraft in; barns, really.

  Over the years, any bespoke sets and props that the company had needed to produce rather than rent from suppliers had piled up in these barns. The thing is, the company had been running for 30 years in one form or another before Maisy turned up. Some of this stuff had gone out of fashion, come back in, then gone out again twice since it was first made.

  Some of it was still usable for vintage or kitsch effects. Maisy had spent many happy hours perusing the inventory looking for wonders and browsing oddities.

  She had been delighted to discover that the company owned no less than 20 giant toadstools. Sadly, there was no record as to why these had first been created, but they were wonderful for woodland weddings.

  The problem with this eclectic treasure trove was that Michael Jnr. had no taste. He had no design or management experience either, but the taste thing was somehow more troubling.

  He was the sort of man who would gold plate his penis if it was possible, especially if he could get a good deal on the job. This meant that he couldn’t see the problem with pitching an 80sstyle under-the-sea theme complete with moulding paper seaweed. To a major tech company. A tech company who’d asked for a sleek event to celebrate a new innovation in their area of expertise, no less.

  Maisy had long since given up trying to push him towards more appropriate options when he made these proposals. He always just said, “I’m making an executive decision!”, and grinned arrogantly as confused customers left one after the other.

  Instead, Maisy quietly made her own plans that were... in the same thematic ballpark to Michael’s outdated ideas, but better fleshed out and adjusted to modern tastes.

  Sadly, many customers backed out before she got a chance to implement her plans, even longstanding return contracts, but every now and then she got enough alone time with the client to show them her work and beg them to let her try.

  Michael rarely turned up to the events they put on anyway for fear of having to help set up. Even when he did show, he was usually too drunk to notice that he’d had different plans for this specific client.

  This could all still work out. All Maisy would have to do is put an accelerator on her damage
control and keep Michael’s lazy arse away from the club on event night. She could do this.

  If she told herself enough times she might actually start believing it.

  TEMPTING AS IT WAS to call Dan and cancel her night at the club, she decided against it. After all, if Michael managed to ruin everything in the newly arranged meeting tomorrow she might never be able to show her face in the club again anyway.

  Maisy’d made a mistake before leaving work. She’d done a web search on ‘Claude Leroy.’

  She should have guessed Claude was wealthy as the queen as well as sweet and gorgeous. No wonder Michael was so excited about potentially landing the Leroy account. The company could use a big haul like that.

  The bouncer who always hovered outside Drift and pretended not to know anything about it gave her a nod as she entered. One day, when she was less pre-occupied, she’d have to ask Claude why he hired this guy. He didn’t interact with anyone that Maisy had seen. Maybe he only became useful if there was trouble.

  Dan was waiting at reception. He pulled her in for a long kiss.

  “It’s good to see you sweetheart,” he said, holding her firmly around the hips.

  “Good to see you,” She nuzzled into his neck. A big part of her wanted to explain everything. To tell him all her worries about the next day and let him soothe her fears away for the night.

  A small and scared part of her soul held her back.

  Dan took Maisy’s hand and led her into the main room. The vaulted ceilings were still impressive even after a handful of visits.

  “There’s Claude, I need to - do you mind if I just say something to him before I get changed?” Maisy asked.

  “Of course not, sweetheart, but you’re here to have fun. Don’t spend too long worrying about work.”

  She smiled at him gratefully, “Not going to happen.” She was glad she hadn’t cancelled tonight. Even if wasn’t brave enough to talk to him about whatever horrors awaited her tomorrow, Dan would take her mind off things for a while.

  “Claude?”

  The owner looked up from the incomprehensible table of figures he’d been perusing at the bar and gave Maisy a broad grin. “Good evening, Maisy. Dan. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s about the meeting tomorrow. It’s not - I mean, this is very early stages, you know? Don’t worry too much if you’re not happy at the end of tomorrow’s meeting. It’s just a stepping stone to the proper planning bit.” She clamped her lips together before she could babble anymore and let on about Michael’s interference.

  “I know, petite. Do not worry, okay?” Claude frowned, his pale blue eyes concerned. “You will do a wonderful job, Maisy.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced, “I hope so. I’d better go get changed. I can’t stay late tonight. You know, things to get up for.” She smiled weakly at Claude and went to find the dressing rooms.

  Plenty of people came to the club in normal dress and got changed once they arrived. They usually looked a bit happier about it than Maisy did in that moment, though. Dan watched her go, his own frown mirroring Claude’s.

  “What is wrong?”

  “With Maisy, you mean?” Dan asked, glad that Claude had also noticed that something wasn’t quite right.

  “Something has changed.”

  “You’re right, but I haven’t a clue what.” She’d been fine the last time they’d spoken. She’d been happily asking questions about facilities for the event. Questions she’d repeated and expanded upon in an email later that day. She’d been chatty. She’d even sounded excited about planning the anniversary, at least he’d thought she had.

  Tonight, though, she was subdued.

  “What are you planning for her tonight?”

  “Nothing heavy. It’ll take her mind off whatever’s wrong though. Will you come back here after the meeting tomorrow? I want to know what happens.”

  “You think the problem will become clear then? Perhaps you’re right. I’ll make sure I get back here before Maisy comes in the evening, yes?”

  “Thanks Claude.”

  “De rien.”

  Chapter 21

  Wax

  “Are you ready?”

  Maisy’s fingers tightened involuntarily around Dan’s arm. She forced herself to relax. This was what she wanted.

  The club was heaving tonight. People she recognised and several she didn’t milled around the main room. It was early, so there wasn’t much going on, but if you stopped to look for more than a second you could see the differences here from a normal bar. The clothes, the scents, the sounds.

  “Maisy?”

  “Yes?” Her eyes snapped back to Daniel. He stood calmly watching her as she watched the room. “Yes, I’m ready. Sorry Sir.”

  “Not at all, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand and led her away from the main room, to a quiet, darker tunnel.

  He let go of her hand and pointed at a cushion by his feet. She knelt and watched as he lit several candles. Some in lanterns, some brightly coloured, some white.

  As the gloom lifted she saw that the only furniture in the tunnel was a padded bench. What Maisy didn’t notice, however, was the rings embedded in the floor and ceiling.

  Daniel took a plastic wrapped sheet out of the storage cubbies where aftercare baskets and safe sex supplies were kept and threw it over the bench.

  He knelt in front of Maisy, took her face in his hands, and kissed her gently.

  “I’ve been looking forward to having you like this, little Maisy.” He kissed her again and she melted into it. Ready to give, ready to take, ready to assume her place in their dance.

  “We’re going to experiment with wax today, sweetheart.”

  Maisy pulled back and tried to glance over his shoulder at the candles, but he held her in place. Wax? That sounded like more pain than she was willing to deal with.

  “Eyes on me.”

  At the quiet command Maisy focused her gaze on Dan’s eyes, feeling his quiet, composed attention calm her. They’d spoken about pain, about pleasure, about her desires and needs. Her Sir wouldn’t be suggesting this unless he thought it’d be okay.

  She caught sight of a luminous armband as a DM wandered past their tunnel’s entrance. She was safe here.

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  He didn’t answer, just waited, thumb brushing her cheek softly.

  “Is it going to hurt, Sir?”

  “Good girl. It may a little, but that’s not why we’re doing this experiment. This is for your pleasure, my Maisy.”

  “Okay then.” She leaned forward and kissed him, trying to communicate the trust and desire she felt with the simple action. He kissed her back at first, tenderly and deeply, then she felt his hand fist in her hair as he pulled back. He held her immobile as she knelt, their lips an inch apart.

  “What’s your safe word, Maisy?”

  “Red, Sir.”

  “Good,” he brushed his lips against hers, a small reward, “And if you don’t want to stop, but need to slow down?”

  “Yellow, Sir.” She smiled, parting her lips a little in anticipation of his kiss.

  He smiled a cruel little smile and shook his head, “Greedy little sub.”

  “Yes Sir,” she grinned and leaned forward a little more, reaching for the kiss.

  He chuckled and kissed her briefly before biting her bottom lip. She squeaked and tried to pull back, but he held her in place a moment longer before releasing her.

  “You get what I want to give you, understand?”

  She licked her throbbing lip and closed her eyes as the little pain rushed through her body as raw heat. Oh yeah, she understood alright.

  “Good girl. Up you get.” He helped her stand and led her to the padded table. “Strip sweetheart.”

  She did so quickly, awkwardly, still unused to getting naked outside of her own home. Dan’s appreciative gaze helped soothe her nerves

  He offered her a hand and helped her get on the bench. The protective sheet that he’d place
d on it was cold on her skin, but it warmed within seconds.

  “On your front, please.”

  She obliged and lay as neatly as she could. He pulled her legs slightly further apart, then smacked her arse playfully, “Beautiful.”

  She grinned and relaxed into the table, this wasn’t so bad.

  She nearly jumped off the table when something cold and slippery splashed on her back. “Jesus!”

  He bit back a laugh, “What was that?”

  “Nothing, Sir.” She replied through gritted teeth, trying to relax into the table again. He began massaging the oil into her back.

  Her muscles softened under his fingers and she sank into a relaxed state, quite like how she’d felt kneeling with him the other day. “That feels good, Sir.”

  “Mmhmm. It’ll protect your skin from the wax and make it easier to peel off after I’m done making you all pretty for me.”

  Oh yeah, the wax. The massage turned from sensuous to ominous in a heartbeat. She couldn’t help tensing a little when he stepped away. Was it going to drop hard and fast like the cold oil had? Would it really hurt? What if she couldn’t bear it?

  “Stop all that worrying, little Maisy.” Dan knelt by her head and ran a gentle hand through her hair. “If you really don’t like it we’ll stop, but I want you to try for me, okay?”

  Suddenly she felt like she’d take a lot more than wax to please him, “Yes Sir.”

  “That’s my girl. I’m going to drop a tiny amount from really high up at first, okay?”

  “Yes Sir,” She relaxed into the table properly, feeling slight excitement alongside the fear for the first time. Hot, smooth wax. There was something sexy about the way it pooled and dripped even before a Dom got hold of it.

  Dan stepped away again and Maisy felt herself tense up. Frowning, she made herself relax. She wanted this. Wanted all the sensations he could give her, even if they scared her for now.

  She took a slow and steady breath, listening to his footsteps behind her, letting the familiar noise be her anchor.

  “Ready sweetheart?”