The Plume: The Second Anthology (4 page)

Louise moved closer. There was a group of
tourists crossing the hotel lobby, filling it with their suitcases
and confusion. A bus tour checking out, maybe, but useful to Louise
either way. Louise let them move her to the stewardess, who was
chatting with another pair of stewardesses. She had slung her big
unzipped purse over her shoulder and turned her back to the hoard
of tourists. When Louise was right beside her target, she held her
breath and reached into the bag – and grabbed.

Her fingers closed on what could only be a
cell phone.

She kept her head down and moved on, the
stewardess none the wiser for her loss.

On the other side of the lobby, Louise
dropped into a chair and turned on the phone. She searched through
its files, discovered that it belonged to Tess Martin and that she
had the phone number for Plume Administration programmed right
in.

Louise watched the flight crew get on to the
airport shuttle and saw the van pull away from the hotel. She
pressed the button to dial and took a deep breath.

It was answered on the first ring. “Hello,
Tess Martin. What can we do for you?”

“I want to come back,” Louise said.

“You’re booked with admitting in eighteen
days.”

Louise’s heart was pounding. “No. Today. I
want to come back today.”

There was a pause. “Change of plans?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” There was the sound of typing. “You
want the limo?”

Louise didn’t dare risk having anyone
recognize her before she got into the Plume. “No, I’ll take a cab
back, thanks.”

“Give me an arrival time so I can schedule
you in.”

Louise could hear typing. She glanced at her
own watch. She had to at least get a wig to pass as Tess. “Two
hours from now.”

“Fine. Any preferences this time?”

“I don’t know.”

The woman’s tone turned teasing. “Tex has
filed a request for you.”

Tex must know Tess, which meant Louise had to
avoid him. “That’s so nice of him. I’d like to try something
different, though.”

“Okay.” There was more typing. “You’ve done
bar duty and room service. Hmm. The Count is looking for some
pussycats.”

Louise had no idea what that meant.
“Great!”

“See you in a couple of hours then.” The
woman ended the call and Louise turned off the cellphone. She held
it between her knees, incredulous at her success. It had almost
been too easy. Louise closed her eyes and thanked the universe for
Call Display.

She wiped the cellphone carefully, then
turned it in to the front desk for their lost and found. She knew
exactly where to look for a wig and nearly laughed out loud as she
left the hotel. She was on her way to the Plume!

But she had to get inside the club before she
could really feel triumphant.

* * *

Two

Louise got out of her cab at the door beside
the loading docks where Tess had left the building. She took a deep
breath and strode to the door, trying to look as if she came here
all the time, and rang the buzzer.

“Yes?”

“Tess Martin.” She smiled for the camera,
hoping they didn’t have any kind of iris-matching security system.
“Back for more.”

“Good. Come on in.” The lock clicked and
Louise opened the door.

Beside her, a limousine pulled up to one
loading dock door. The driver pointed a remote at the door and it
slid upward. Inside, Louise saw that the one loading dock disguised
a ramp. They must have an underground parking garage. The limosine
disappeared down the ramp as the loading dock door closed behind
it.

The first part of the Plume looked like an
office. Louise’s heart continued to pound with the conviction that
she would be discovered before she even got inside. The
administrative person on the other side of the glass barrier was on
the phone as well as on the computer. She waved Louise on, putting
her hand over the receiver. “Bin Nineteen is yours, Tess.”

To the left of the check-in was a wall of
numbered bins, each about the size of a recycling box. Louise found
a bodysuit with a furry tail in number nineteen, as well as some
boots and a hood. She supposed this was part of being a pussycat.
She saw another woman carry her entire bin down the hall to another
door. Louise followed, as if she did this all the time.

Behind the door was a locker room, evidently
just for the women. They could have been at a well-appointed gym.
It was all clean and white, and it wasn’t cheaply done. The lockers
had tiny keys. Louise watched surreptitiously as the other woman
finished dressing and slid her key into a slot in the back of her
boot’s heel. Sure enough, Louise’s boot had the same little
gap.

Brilliant. It was organized and it was
brilliant. Exactly the way she’d always hoped the Plume would
be.

Once dressed, Louise closed her locker, hid
her key, then followed the other woman. Presumably the other end of
the locker room opened to the Plume itself. She passed through a
shower area, then a guard – dressed in black leather dominatrix
gear and wearing a black leather mask – checked her costume. The
guard even had a checklist for the costume.

She frowned that the bodysuit was a bit loose
around Louise’s bust, her lips tightening. “Another screw-up in
sizing,” she said with displeasure. “Why can’t they get the
simplest things right? You’ll have to wear it as it is tonight, but
give it back to us for alterations when you check out.”

“Of course. I did lose a bit of weight,”
Louise lied. It was clear that Tess was more buxom than she
was.

The guard glared at her. “Didn’t you change
your personal data on the file?”

Louise shook her head. “I forgot.”

The guard inhaled. “Well, then, it’s your own
fault that you look less than your best.”

“What do I do with the tail?” Louise held it
up with uncertainty, although the rubber plug on one end gave her
an idea of how she was to wear it.

The guard smiled. “Need some help with that?”
she asked, then bent Louise over a padded bench with unexpected
speed. She wedged the rubber plug into Louise’s anus, a move that
made Louise’s eyes widen in surprise. It felt odd, but the size of
the plug meant that it wasn’t going to come free. The guard slapped
Louise’s butt and told her to hurry up.

Louise followed the other woman down a
corridor. She could hear music and laughter, the sound of clinking
glass. There must be a bar ahead. Her anticipation rose at the
sound. The tail swung around her legs, almost floating when she
walked. The tail had to be a foot wide, absolutely luxurious in its
softness, and the tip trailed on the ground behind her. It was
almost magical, the way it made her feel powerful and sexy. She
swayed her hips as she walked, loving this game. Louise caught a
glimpse of herself in one long mirror that lined the corridor’s
wall and smiled at the calico kitty.

“Meow,” she said to her reflection and the
woman ahead of her laughed.

“I wonder whether the Count will make you
purr or scratch,” she said, then stepped out into the velvety
darkness of a bar.

And what a bar.

The Plume.

Louise stood on the threshold and stared. It
was all purple velvet, touched with gilt. The light was dim and the
bar was crowded. She gaped at the masked members, in their latex
and leather and lace finery. They were all fit, all buff, all
watching for new arrivals. The place practically tasted of sex and
certainly there was a hum of desire in the air.

Louise saw the glitter of eyes behind masks
and hungry smiles. She saw hands move in slow caresses; she saw
people lean back with pleasure; she heard throaty chuckles and saw
many admiring glances. She saw the peacock feathers of the Plume’s
logo on all sides: as a graphic on the wall, in a vase by the door,
tipping the edges of domino masks, being used to tickle nipples and
erections.

The place was filled with eye candy, each of
the people there displayed to advantage. There were corsets and
stockings and garters and bodysuits. There were high-heeled boots
and thigh high boots and sparkling sandals. There were masks and
hoods and leashes. There were chains and shackles and lengths of
rope. She saw a lot of bare flesh, tattooed flesh and pierced
flesh. Rex’s photographs had really only touched the surface of the
visual display here – or maybe Louise just needed to see more of
his pictures. The dance floor was full, the pounding beat of the
music making the scene seem unreal.

The Plume was filled with vitality, with
beautiful people intent on giving and receiving pleasure. Louise
loved that there was no judgment, no code. She liked seeing men
with men and women with women, with people of all different colors
and heights mingling together.

A handsome man with dark hair and dark eyes
stepped forward, smiling at the sight of her. “My newest pussycat,”
he murmured, trailing his fingers across her cheek, down her
throat, across her breast. “Pretty puss.” He fingered her sex, his
gaze knowing, and Louise didn’t dare flinch or move away.

This must be the Count.

And she – no,
Tess
– was going to be
his sex slave. Louise swallowed, unable to keep from staring at
him. His hands were elegant, his gaze assessing. The brush of his
fingertips made her tingle.

He pinched her nipple suddenly and Louise
inhaled sharply. “Naughty kitty,” he said, but his eyes gleamed as
if she’d responded just as he’d expected.

In a heartbeat, she had been cast over his
knee and was being spanked with vigor. Louise struggled, which only
seemed to amuse the Count. He slapped her harder, then pushed his
fingers inside her.

Louise stilled.

Then she considered who she was supposed to
be and what she was supposed to want. She arched her back, pushing
out her butt, and rolled her hips so that her wet sex pushed
against his hand.

The Count chuckled. “So, this pussy is
hungry,” he murmured. “My favorite kind.” He stood her on her feet
again, wiped his hand on a hankerchief, then fitted a wide jewelled
leather collar around her throat. He toyed with a leash for a
moment, considering her, then cast it aside, taking another leash
from his pocket. It was the same metallic gold as the collar, but
this one had two clamps on its end.

Louise inhaled again as the Count caught her
nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling it to a point. He then
affixed one clamp to it with care, giving her breast a little pat
when the nippled was snared. Louise caught her breath at the force
of the pinch, but he smiled at her.

“It’s not so bad, little kitty. The clamps
are lined with fur. Besides -” he smiled at her “- there’s nothing
you can do about it. You’re my kitty cat tonight, and I can do
whatever I want to do to you.”

Louise’s heart began to pound at the promise
of that. “I hope you make me purr,” she dared to say.

The Count laughed. “Impertinent kitty,” he
chided softly. He fastened the second clamp to her other breast,
then let out the leash as he stepped back. He gave it a little tug
and Louise gasped. Her hands rose automatically to her breasts, but
she refrained from touching them in the nick of time.

The Count put his fingertip across her lips.
“Silence, kitty.” There was a warning light in his eyes. “And clasp
your hands behind your back. I’m not ready to bind you.”

Louise nodded understanding and – remembering
that she was supposed to be a slave – dropped her gaze to the
floor.

“Good kitty,” the Count said. “Now, let’s
find your playmates.” He turned and walked into the Plume’s bar,
Louise hurrying behind him as those clamps tugged on her nipples.
Already she could feel her skin coming alive, a powerful tingle of
awareness emanating from those two points and driving all other
thought from her mind.

“Walk more elegantly,” the Count said with
impatience, casting the words over his shoulder. “You’re a kitty,
not a plowhorse.”

Louise took more care then, walking with
smaller steps even though she had to move faster to keep up with
him. She wasn’t used to heels as high as these.

The Count let out the leash, turning when he
reached his table to watch her walk the last eight feet. He smiled
again. “Good kitty.” He rubbed her under her chin and Louise
stretched her neck up as if his caress gave her great pleasure. She
purred, making the sound deep in her throat, and the Count laughed
as if surprised. “Very good, kitty,” he said and tugged her to the
table beside him.

His hand dove between her legs and he rubbed
her clitoris with his fingertips, kindling her arousal to a fever
pitch. Louise stood with her legs slightly apart to give him access
and looked across the bar as he caressed her with surety. She was
simmering with desire and began to move her hips against his hand
in silent demand. The Count smiled when Louise purred.

She had a feeling she was going to like the
Count.

* * *

Tex couldn’t shake his bad mood. It would be
weeks before Tess was back at the Plume and probably at least a day
before he heard her voice again. He performed his duties at the
stables, being a little more tough on some of the fillies than was
necessary, but he felt as if he was just going through the
motions.

He went down to the Plume’s bar for a drink
afterward, thinking the festivities there might cheer him up. The
place was packed with masked members, each one dressed more
outrageously than the next.

“Drowning your sorrows?” Amanda asked as she
hopped onto a bar stool beside him. The tall brunette worked in the
office of the Plume, managing member requests and profiles.

Amanda didn’t dress like a typical
administrative assistant. Tex smiled to see that she had indulged
her passion for vintage lingerie again. She wore a black one-piece
corset with bra that was trimmed in bright pink. It shaped her
breasts to points and drew her waist in before flaring over her
hips. She was more ample than many of the women at the Plume, and
this corset made her even more curvy.