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collar around her neck. This one
wasn't delicate like Estelle's. Cherie's collar was a wide leather band secured
with a small padlock, and it positively screamed ownership.
    "You really want to
watch that sassy mouth of yours, doll, before someone decides to shut it for
you in ways you may not like." Cherie smiled as she said the words, but
they held an edge of steel, and Neeve thought it
wisest to keep quiet.
    "I get that you're
new. I get that you're confused, but whilst you're here, keep your head down
and show some respect. If you can't do that, then you should leave right
now."
    Cherie spoke so quietly Neeve had to strain to hear the words over the music that
started up just then. Trikus released her and handed
her a clipboard with a Rules of Conduct sheet.
    "If you're staying,
sign this, and follow Cherie to the bar. The show is about to start on stage,
and I need to make sure everyone stays in safe parameters" Trikus didn't look at her as he spoke. His eyes scanned the
room behind them, and it startled Neeve to see how
busy the club had become. She's been so absorbed in what had been happening
right in front of her, she'd missed the club filling up. Her heart gave a very
suspicious little bump inside her chest when she spotted Grisha on stage. He'd stripped down to his low slung jeans, his ebony skin gleaming
under the spotlights now illuminating the stage at the far end of the club. His
muscles bunched and rippled as he rolled his shoulders and moved his head from
side to side. He looked deep in concentration as he studied the implements set
out on a little table. Alcohol, swabs, fire sticks, floggers, and a lethal
looking whip battled for space with a bucket of water, several small fire
extinguishers, and a fire blanket. A roped off area around the stage set the
gathering crowd several paces back, and Neeve's stomach clenched when Grisha lit a candle and tested
the heat with his hand.
      His words to her came back to haunt her, and
the just healed skin on her wrist throbbed in remembered pain. Grisha chose that moment to turn round and assess the
crowd, and Neeve froze in place when his gaze zoomed
in on her. He smiled, a toe curling, lazy, possessive smile that made her skin
prickle and her breath hitch. She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm, and
the connection was broken. Her intense physical reaction to seeing him in the
flesh left her reeling, and it took her a while to register Cherie was talking
to her.
    "Sign the papers,
doll. You don't want to miss the show. Grisha is the
best at this."
    Neeve didn't doubt
that for one minute. He oozed authority and strength on that stage, and her
guts churned with an unfamiliar emotion when she saw the three young women join
him on stage. She was not jealous, surely? Why would she be? She hardly knew
him, and she couldn't care less about those women. Blasted exhibitionist,
nameless bimbos, that's what they were.
    She must have mumbled
the last bit out loud, as she furiously scribbled her name under the sheet of
paper, because Cherie laughed, and this time when Neeve looked at the other woman there was genuine warmth and understanding in her
deep chocolate colored eyes.
    "They're just here
for the scene. Grisha hasn't claimed any sub, yet." The emphasis on yet wasn't lost on Neeve , and
she grumbled her annoyance.
    "Easy, doll, put
your claws away. I may be wrong, but I get the impression our Grisha is all yours if you want him." She too glanced
toward the stage, and Grisha winked at her, before
switching his attention to the subs in front of him. There seemed to be some
sort of a discussion going on between him and the three women kneeling in their
submissive pose in front of him.
    "He's checking
their hard and soft limits and judging how far he can push them." Cherie
offered the explanation with a smile. "Ink is right, you know. You have a
very expressive face and wear your emotions for all to see. I'll explain as he
goes along if you'd like."
    "Yes, please."
    Cherie