"Greetings, greetings. Welcome to the Domina Flagrante."
Chantelle was confidently kissing cheeks and offering her hand to complete strangers. She was so in control, her commanding outfit dropping jaws and grabbing attention. The only thing missing was a crop dangling from her free hand.
Annie gripped my left arm possessively.
"Are you all right, pet?"
Annie smiled up into my eyes and whispered.
"Yes, Sir. Dreamy."
I winked and kissed her forehead before turning back to welcome more new arrivals.
Some of the office girls had brought their boyfriends, and some even wore nice decorative collars, while a few others wore sexy, revealing outfits. One girl I recognised from accounting wore a black leather halter-top that showed a surprising amount of cleavage.
Most of the men were suited up, but one lawyer arrived wearing jeans and a t-shirt and was led in at the end of a leash by his tittering wife.
"How marvelous of you to get into the spirit of things!" gushed Chantelle to the blushing wife who could do little more than giggle.
Alan Teasedale piped up in his wife's defense from behind her shoulder.
"Um, it's a fantasy. It's all right, isn't it? Mandy and I just thought..."
Chantelle glared at him like he was in trouble and his voice trailed off.
His wife covered her mouth, failing to contain another giggle.
Chantelle smiled hugely then winked at her, leaned into her ear and whispered something I couldn't hear.
The wife straightened her face and turned around to her husband and jerked his leash.
"The Mistress was talking to me, you naughty boy!"
Alan blushed furiously, his hands covering his cock.
Mandy Teasedale turned back to Chantelle and hesitated, smiling.
Then, like two schoolgirls, they both broke up in unrestrained giggling. I just looked at Alan and shrugged. He blushed again and his eyes went down to his feet.
"I think I'm going to like this!" squealed Mandy.
The salon quickly filled to overflowing. Lawyers are notoriously late unless there's free alcohol. Chantelle greeted them all individually, which meant there was a small delay before they made their way to the bar. A few impatient guests strolled right past, but most recognised Chantelle would be interesting to meet, and bided their time.
"Georgia!" Annie cried gleefully, as her friend from work arrived.
"Hi, Annie," she replied and hugged her, before turning her attention to Chantelle and I. "This is gonna be fun," she drawled.
"Welcome Georgia," I said. "This is Chantelle. She's our hostess."
Chantelle shook Georgia's hand and welcomed her. I smiled at Annie and winked.
"Can I go and have a drink with Georgia, please Sir?"
"Sure, pet."
Annie and Georgia rushed past, and I overheard Georgia part whispering and part exclaiming, "Sir? Pet?"
I chuckled to myself and shook my head.
"Having fun, Roger?"
"A ball, Chantelle," I grinned.
Finally Hammerstein, Gardner and their wives arrived with a large entourage of hangers-on. Included in this group were a number of lawyers and a few of our clients, including the boss of Videomax who nodded a greeting to me and mouthed the words, "Thanks, Roger."
One person in the group stood out. She was a new personal assistant with the firm and wore the most outrageous outfit yet. A tiny, white vinyl miniskirt, white lacy bra under a see-through blouse, and white knee-high boots rounded out the ensemble. Her dark red hair sculpted around her face and brushed the tops of her pale shoulders, while a white studded collar adorned her neck as she stood there blushing with her eyes down. She still carried her pen and a pad of paper, as if to take dictation at any moment.
Beside Emmanuel and Sonya Hammerstein were Royston and Fiona Gardner. They appeared to be arguing but pointedly ceased as they approached the entrance to the salon behind the Hammersteins. The others, including Gardner's right hand man, Saul Houston, followed closely behind.
I had the distinct impression I was on a stage as the large group gathered around us.
"I take great pleasure in introducing you to the Mistress of this fine establishment, Chantelle," I announced.
She proceeded to welcome everyone to the Domina Flagrante and explained quickly how the night would proceed. It was marvelous how she soothed over any anxiety they may have felt. She gave a quick history of the building and described the layout, including the rest rooms, to which the girl in white quickly fled.
"Anyway," I said after watching her fly past, "I hope you all have a wonderful time."
Emmanuel Hammerstein turned his attention to me.
"Looks like you've done a good job so far, Roger. Now, where can we get some drinks?"
I motioned the parties inside and pointed to the bar.
"Open bar all night, Sir."
"Very good," he said, beckoning those around him to follow.
Chantelle leaned into my ear for a moment, whispering, "Rude man."
"Hush," I winked at her.
I remembered she had his phone number on her Rolodex.
She turned her open, once more smiling face to the next guests entering and I saw a tic in the corner of her eye.
"Alex, how nice to see you."
I recognised Alex O'Donohue, the senatorial candidate, at once. I shook his offered hand firmly.
"Welcome, Alex. It's good of you to come."
"Always up for a shindig, Roger. Hello Chantelle, I don't believe you've met my wife, Marie."
Alex pushed her forward, holding her by the shoulders.
She was a mousy brunette with a pushed-up nose. I wondered if she'd had plastic surgery.
"She's my slave tonight. Aren't you, dear?" he asked, leaning down and kissing her ear.
She sighed before answering.
"Yes, Alex, I'm your slave. Can I please have a drink now?"
Chantelle held out her hand in greeting. Marie shook it gently while Alex and I watched the exchange. Marie appeared a little flustered, then smiled.
She brought the back of Chantelle's hand to her mouth and kissed it lightly.
Chantelle nodded and Alex gaped. He steered his wife past us into the salon muttering something to her, and Chantelle turned to me and winked.
I don't know what it is about her.
She's amazing.
I looked at my watch. It was almost eight-thirty.
"Is that most of them?" Chantelle asked.
"It's all of the most important ones. Except..."
I was going to say, "Josephine and Sylvia". Maybe they weren't coming?
Just then my boss and his wife, Mike and Emma Constanti, came through the front door and were directed to us by Jonathan.
"Mike!"
"Roger! Hello! Is this the Mistress? Chantelle isn't it? I'm Mike. I love it! It's perfect! So edgy, Roger. Sooo edgy!"
He shook Chantelle's hand much too hard and I got the same treatment.
His wife poked him in the ribs with her elbow and all three of us looked at her.
She wore a nice simple black cocktail dress with a black dog collar. Amazingly, she had a matching ball-gag in her mouth. Still, she tried to smile sweetly as we all looked at her.
