by Anna Stone
Mel took the proffered glass and drank, wincing as it burned her throat. But the taste wasn’t bad.
The woman sat down in an armchair across from Mel. “I take it you’re not a whiskey drinker?”
“Nope.” The only whiskey Mel had ever tried was cheap stuff that tasted like a campfire.
“Would you like something else?”
“No, this is fine.” Mel took another sip. “It actually tastes pretty good.”
“It should. This is arguably one of the best whiskeys to come out of Scotland in the last decade or two. It’s well worth the price tag.”
Mel recalled how much even a single glass of this particular whiskey cost downstairs. For the second time that night, she held a small fortune in her hands, so she figured she may as well enjoy it. Mel sank into the soft couch, her tension clearing. There was a faint floral scent in the air. Rose, and something both sweet and spicy that Mel didn’t recognize. She could hear the faint thrum of the music from the club below. It was far softer than it should have been. The room must have been soundproof.
Mel sneaked a glance in the woman’s direction. The soft light of the room highlighted her elegant beauty. High cheekbones. Full red lips. Porcelain skin. Her hands had felt so soft on Mel’s arm.
Mel suddenly realized that she didn’t even know the woman’s name. As she opened her mouth to ask, another thought occurred to her. “You called me Melanie earlier. I haven’t told you my name.”
“There isn’t a single person who works here whose name I don’t know. And I know more than your name. Melanie Greene, twenty-three years old. Raised by a single mother in a small town in Ohio. Got into college on a full ride scholarship and graduated with honors. Currently studying law. And not even a parking ticket to your name.”
“How do you know so much about me?” Mel asked.
“I assure you it’s nothing sinister. I require thorough background checks on everyone who works at my establishments before I hire them. I have an excellent memory.” She leaned forward and placed her drink on the table. “And you’re very hard to forget.”
Mel took another sip of her drink. Her glass was emptying quickly.
“You stood out to me, Melanie. It’s clear that you have a lot of drive and aren’t afraid of hard work. Those are desirable traits to any employer.”
Mel remembered her other question. “What’s your name?”
“How rude of me. It’s Vanessa. Vanessa Harper.”
Vanessa. Even her name sounded elegant.
“So, tell me. Why do you want to become a lawyer? You don’t seem the type who aspires to work at a big corporate law firm.”
Mel would have been bothered by Vanessa’s presumption if it hadn’t been true. “I want to help those who really need it. For some people, legal services are a luxury they can’t afford. Without it, they face poverty, or homelessness, or even prison.” Mel knew this well from her own childhood. She grew up in a world that was the complete opposite of the one that Vanessa and the patrons of The Lounge inhabited. “I want to give people like that a chance at a better life.”
“How benevolent of you.” It was hard to tell whether or not Vanessa was being patronizing. “But you’re at one of the top law schools in the country. Simply doing pro-bono work seems like wasted potential.”
“I want to do far more than that,” Mel replied. “I want to make a difference on a bigger scale. I don’t know how exactly yet. But I do know that change comes from the top. And that’s why I have to get there.”
Vanessa smiled. “You’re very passionate. You remind me of myself when I was younger. Big ambitions. Fighting your way up in a world where everything is stacked against you. I can tell you from experience that it isn’t easy being a woman in a male-dominated profession. Not to mention a gay woman. Which I’m sure you know already.”
Mel almost choked on her drink. “How do you know I’m a lesbian?” She was the kind of woman who flew under most people’s gaydar.
“Reading people is one of my talents. I’m an executive. And in the corporate world, it’s a valuable skill. Learn someone’s tells, and you know when they’re lying, or stalling, or when you have them right where you want them. And once you know how to read people, you can learn all sorts of things about someone by simply watching them for five minutes. I’ve watched you in the club, Melanie. I’ve watched you interact with people. It’s obvious that you’re not interested in men, but you are interested in women.” Vanessa leaned forward, her eyes locked on Mel’s. “And I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
Mel’s heart stopped in her chest. The heat of Vanessa’s gaze made Mel’s skin burn.
She glanced away. Her eyes landed on a clock on the wall. Her shift had ended ten minutes ago.
“I’ve kept you here long enough,” Vanessa said. “You can go.” She reached out and took Mel’s empty glass from her hand. Their fingers touched, and Vanessa’s hand seemed to linger on Mel’s. Then Vanessa placed the glass down next to her own and stood up.
Mel got up from the couch, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. As she followed Vanessa to the door, her eyes flicked over to the riding crop hanging from the bedpost.
A hint of a smile formed on Vanessa’s lips. “Goodbye, Melanie.”
Chapter Three
Mel jogged down the busy sidewalk, upbeat music blasting through her earbuds. As she narrowly dodged a woman on a bicycle, she wished she could afford a gym membership and avoid the crowded city streets. But for now, she had to make do. Running was her only outlet. She loved the feeling of pushing her body to its limit. The burning muscles. The aching lungs. The high. It was satisfying in a raw, visceral way.
In truth, she preferred the freedom of running outdoors. The heat of the sun on her skin and the wind in her face added to the rush she felt.
Her apartment building came into view. Mel slowed her pace and checked her watch. She didn’t have long until she had to leave for work. She’d barely been able to squeeze in a run at all. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Mel jogged the last half mile to her building and made her way up to her apartment. Calling it an ‘apartment’ was generous. The one-room studio had room for a bed, a table, and little else. But it was the only place that Mel could afford by herself.
She stripped off her sweaty clothes and threw them into the hamper. She’d tried as hard as she could to make her apartment look inviting, adding some color and personal touches. A few throw pillows in a bright, cheerful blue. Posters to cover the marks on the walls. A bookshelf salvaged from the curb that Mel had filled with books she didn’t have time to read. It did little to improve the ambiance of the space. But Mel liked it. It was more of a home to her than any other place she had lived in.
Mel made her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. She tipped back her head and let the warm water trickle down her body, washing the sweat from her skin and revitalizing her tired muscles. She wished that she had a bathtub. It had been a long day. Six hours of classes, followed by a quick run, and now a shift at The Lounge. She wouldn’t get home until well after midnight.
Mel let out a long breath. She was used to it. The long hours. The late nights. The never-ending pile of school work. She’d been working hard since high school: first to get into college and escape her middle of nowhere hometown, and then to get into law school, all while working to support herself.
But as she scrubbed the dirt of the day off her body, Mel felt the weight of it all creep back onto her shoulders. Running provided a brief escape. It didn’t last.
She sighed and tried to push it all aside. For what felt like the hundredth time this week, her thoughts drifted back to the other night at The Lounge. To Vanessa. When Mel closed her eyes, she could see Vanessa’s smoldering eyes staring back at her. She could feel Vanessa’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. She could hear Vanessa’s voice, somehow gentle and commanding at the same time.
I’ve seen the way you look at me.
Mel stepped out of the shower. How had Vanessa manage
d to get inside her head so easily? It didn’t matter. Even if Vanessa was interested in her, which seemed crazy, Mel didn’t want to go down that road. Not with Vanessa, or with anyone.
As she toweled herself off, an image of the riding crop hanging from Vanessa’s bedpost flashed across Mel’s mind. And then, Vanessa holding the crimson handle…
No. Mel refused to let her imagination go there. She left the bathroom and started to get dressed for work.
As soon as Mel arrived at work, James pulled her aside.
“Hey, Mel.” His usually cheerful expression had been replaced by one of concern. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“Vanessa told me about what happened the other night.”
Vanessa had told James that she had taken Mel up to her room?
“You know, with that asshole in the VIP area.”
Of course. She’d forgotten all about that part of her night. “Right.”
“Just so you know, that guy will never set foot in here again. No matter how rich or famous a customer thinks they are, lay a hand on my staff and you’re banned for life. He’s on Vanessa’s blacklist now, which means he’s banned from a long list of venues,” James said.
“Okay. Thanks, James.” Mel paused. “So, you’ve known about Vanessa all this time?”
“Yep. But I’m not supposed to tell anyone. She has her reasons for keeping her identity private.” He held up his hands apologetically. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t come in here to monitor anyone. She just likes to check up on the place every now and then.”
That wasn’t particularly reassuring. Would Mel have treated Vanessa any differently all this time if she’d known? It was probably a good thing. Mel didn’t need another reason to be intimidated by her.
It turned out to be a quiet night. For what seemed like the twentieth time since her shift started, Mel wiped down an already clean table and rearranged the chairs around it. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked around for something else to do.
“Mel?” James waved her over to the bar. “Want to practice your bartending skills while things are quiet?”
“Sure,” Mel replied. James had been training her as a bartender so she could help out when things got busy.
“If you need any help, I’ll be right here unpacking these.” He pointed to a stack of boxes behind him.
Mel slid behind the bar and began making drinks. She knew most of the cocktail recipes by now, so it was mostly a matter of honing her technique. In between customers, James gave Mel the latest of many informal lessons on bartending. Today, it was about different wines. Mel listened carefully and filed it all away in her mind.
A few minutes before the end of Mel’s shift, James pulled a bottle of amber spirits out of a box. The label was written in Japanese. “This must be one of Vanessa’s special orders,” he said. “Now that you’re in on her secret, you can give this to her for me. Here.” He held the bottle out to Mel. “She’s upstairs looking over some paperwork.”
Mel’s heart jumped. “Sure thing.”
“You might as well head off early. It’s dead tonight. Just take it up to her on your way out.”
Mel took the bottle from James and grabbed her bag and coat. She said a quick goodbye to her coworkers, then made her way across the club to the corridor that led to Vanessa’s room. Her stomach filled with butterflies, she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.
“It’s unlocked,” Vanessa called from inside.
Mel entered the room. Vanessa was sitting at the table, her back toward Mel, looking down at some papers spread out before her.
“I need a minute, James-” Vanessa turned her head. She seemed entirely unfazed to see Mel standing in her doorway. “Hello, Melanie.”
Usually, Mel didn’t like it when people called her by her full name. But it didn’t bother her when Vanessa did. “Hi.”
“Come in. Sit. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Vanessa turned back to her work.
Mel sat down on the couch, bottle in hand. She couldn’t help but glance over at Vanessa’s bed. Yep. It was still there. The crimson-handled riding crop.
Vanessa’s chair scraped across the floorboards. She gathered her papers and placed them to the side neatly, then walked over to Mel. “What can I do for you?”
“Here.” Mel held the bottle out to her. “James asked me to give you this.”
Vanessa took the bottle from Mel and held it up in front of her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this. Single malt Japanese whiskey. Aged for thirty years, cask finished. Very difficult to find.”
To Mel’s surprise, she knew what all of those terms meant. James’s lessons had stuck with her. Mel got up to leave.
“Stay. Drink this with me.” Vanessa’s eyes fell to the coat and purse slung over Mel’s arm. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”
Mel hesitated. She did have a lot of work to do. But she wanted to stay. One drink wouldn’t hurt. “No, I don’t,” she said, sitting back down.
Vanessa walked over to the counter. She took two glasses and poured the amber liquid into them, then brought them over to the couch and handed one to Mel. Vanessa took a seat in the chair across from Mel. She swirled the whiskey around in her glass and held it up to her nose. She took a sip. “Not bad,” Vanessa declared.
Mel followed Vanessa’s lead. She couldn’t taste any difference between this whiskey and the one she’d tried the other night.
“So.” Vanessa placed her glass down on the table carefully. “Last time you were in here, I ambushed you with questions. Now that I know so much about you, it’s only fair that I give you a chance to get to know me. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
Mel’s mind went blank. There was so much she wanted to know about Vanessa that she didn’t know where to start. “You’re the mystery owner of The Lounge?” It was the only thing she could think of.
“I’ve heard that I’m quite the mystery to you all. Yes, I own The Lounge. It’s one of quite a few bars and clubs that I own. I moved on to bigger things long ago. But I have a soft spot for this place. It was my first investment.” She leaned back in her chair. “You seem surprised.”
“A little,” Mel said. “Everyone thinks you’re some rich old man.”
“I assure you I’m not a man, and I’m only thirty-four” Vanessa said. “I haven’t done anything to discourage those rumors. I may have even dropped a few hints to throw people off my trail.”
“But why the secrecy?” Mel asked.
“A few reasons. I run my own investment firm now. Most of the firm’s clients are extremely conservative. And some of the clubs and venues that I own privately could be considered unsavory to some. Not all of them are as respectable as The Lounge. So I don’t want them associated with my name and my firm.”
What kind of place was less respectable than The Lounge? It wasn’t uncommon for Mel to find little white powder smudges on the restroom countertops.
“And quite simply, I’m a very private person. I don’t want anyone digging through my life. There are certain things about me that would scandalize people if they knew.” Vanessa said. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
“What’s this room for?” Mel asked. “Is it yours?”
“Yes. It was empty when I acquired the premises. I later decided to repurpose it to be something of a second apartment. For when I have company. I don’t like to take women back to my home, so I bring them here instead,” Vanessa said casually. She seemed determined to get under Mel’s skin.
And it was sure working.
“That can’t be all you want to ask me, Melanie,” Vanessa said.
Mel kept her mouth shut. She had a lot of questions on her mind. But there was no way she was going to ask them.
“All right then. I have a question for you.” Vanessa leaned back and crossed her legs, her eyes fixed on Mel’s. “Both of the times you’ve been in here, you haven’t been able to stop staring at my riding crop.”
Mel’s face flushed. She’d hoped Vanessa hadn’t noticed. No, that was a lie.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Vanessa asked.
“No,” Mel said softly.
“Does it scare you?”
“No.”
Vanessa examined Mel’s face silently. “Could it be that you’re curious?”
Mel’s heart sped up. “Maybe a little…” She couldn’t help herself. There was something about Vanessa that made Mel feel compelled to answer her truthfully.
“Would you like to take a closer look?” Vanessa asked, her voice a low purr. Without waiting for a response, Vanessa walked over to the bed and picked up the riding crop. She sat down on the coffee table in front of Mel and held the whip up before her chest. “It’s a lovely piece of workmanship. Custom made. Leather. Narrow tip. The thinner the tip, the greater the bite.” With a flick of her wrist, Vanessa slapped it against her palm.
A soft gasp escaped Mel’s lips. The sound of the impact surprised her. And it set off a spark somewhere deep inside of her.
Vanessa’s lips curved up almost imperceptibly. “Here.” She held the whip out toward Mel, balancing it on her palms. “Hold it.”
Mel turned the riding crop over in her hands. She traced the weave of the handle with her fingertips then ran them up to the supple leather tip.
“What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.” Mel couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like against her skin, somewhere fleshy and tender.
“Have you ever used one?” Vanessa asked. “Or had one used on you?”
“No,” Mel murmured.
“Have you ever wanted to?”
Mel hesitated. “I’ve thought about it. Once or twice.” Another lie.
Vanessa reached out and took the crop from Mel’s hands. “And when you think about it, do you see yourself as the one holding the whip? Or at the other end?”
“I don’t know.” The crop didn’t feel at home in Mel’s hands. But there was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that prevented her from admitting the truth.