Rummaging around in an older, external HD folder aptly named 'unsubmitted stories', I found stories I had written about ten years ago. I figured I might as well submit them, too.
I haven't been able to find an editor who'll reply although they say they're interested in editing. So, I'm uploading the story - self-edited. Hope it isn't too disastrous.
=======================
Two women, one with short black hair and the other with short tawny hair, looked deep in a cloud of thought while they waited for their Starbucks' coffee orders.
"Yes, things are chaotic right now, but it's just bad timing. We'll work it out or it'll work itself out." The brown-haired one said.
"Sure we will, or it will, but the real question is when? What are we going to do right now?" the other asked.
"We're going to do what we can do. We'll deal with it. This is just a bump in the road. That's all. Don't make this into anything more than it really is."
"It's not just a bump. It's a bump in a dirt road - a sinkhole in a teeming downpour at a blind intersection."
"Don't go melodramatic on me. Keep your head on straight and we'll work this out." The black-haired woman sighed trying to push out the stress that weighed down on her. "Of all the times to lose our domme, it just had to be at the worst possible moment."
"When it rains, it pours. But remember, tomorrow is another day."
"Gee, thanks Scarlett O'Hara. Was that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Cat? Grande vanilla latte?" the barista said.
"Thank you." the tawny-haired woman said with a toothy smile.
"Magritte? Grande cappuccino?"
"It's Margritte. Mar-grit. Magritte was a famous French artist."
"And this is a mermaid." The barista said, pointing to the Starbucks' logo on the cup.
Margritte and the barista shared a smile, and she raised her cup with a little nod to him before resuming her previous conversation.
Unbeknownst {I dislike that word, but can't think of a good substitute} to them, a petite, young woman sitting in the corner of the cafe was listening to their ongoing conversation. She sat as quiet as a mouse by the glow of her laptop screen illuminating her young face. She had long brown hair tied back behind her neck. It was apparent that she wasn't wearing make-up or at least a minuscule amount - just a hint of color on her cheeks - and, possibly, lip gloss - or lip balm.
She wore a simple white one-piece dress tied at the waist and buttoned down the front from breast to mid-thigh. What was more glaring was the condition of her dress. It wasn't threadbare or dirty, but it was well worn and a bit unkempt.
The two women gathered their purses, which, the young lady noticed, were a Louis Vuitton and a Burberry. As the two were stepping out, the young lady closed her laptop and shoved it into her bag quickly to chase after them. While she passed by the front counter, one of the baristas spoke to her.
"If you're going to continue to come in here, I'll have to ask you to buy something from now on. Understand?"
The young lady slowed down to listen and with a saddened expression nodded back in acknowledgment before continuing after the two women. Upon stepping out of the shop and into the plaza, she looked around to see where they had gone. It was early morning and the rush to work had already begun. She looked around but failed to see them.
"Oh no! Where did they go?" she muttered.
She looked toward the main street and spotted them. The short tawny hair stood out even at a distance. She made her way toward them quickly crossing the street and following them into the business high-rise lobby. She held the hem of her dress tightly just in case any sudden gusts might cause - an incident. As she made her way to the elevators, a building staff member stopped her.
"Excuse me, miss. Who are you here to see?"
"Oh. Umm...I'm with them." she said in a childlike voice pointing to the two women waiting at the elevator entrance.
The staffer looked over at Margritte and Cat who were still talking to each other and then looked back at the young lady. "You're with them?"
"Uh-huh."
He looked at her inquisitively for a moment and then noticed the bag she had around her shoulder. "May I inspect your bag?"
"Sure," she said and opened it for him to inspect the contents.
The only items inside were her laptop, a charger, keys, and an ugly turquoise wallet - neither make-up nor the usual female paraphernalia.
"Okay. Let me get you a visitor pass." He said and walked back to the reception counter. The young lady stayed where she was and watched the two women enter the elevator together. Then, she walked over to check the elevator display to see on which floor it stopped.
"Miss?" the staffer said to her and waved her over.
She watched the display, but it made several stops. She couldn't tell which floor the women went to.
"Miss?" he said again and the girl finally walked up to the reception desk. "Here you go," he said and handed her a guest pass sticker.
"Thank you. Um...could you tell me which floor the office is on? I forgot."
"It's the 29th. Suite 2909."
"Thanks," she said with a smile and an unconfident wave of her hand.
She made her way to the 29th floor brushing her dress to straighten out the wrinkles, but to no avail. As the elevator arrived at the appropriate floor, she stepped out into the hall and proceeded to suite 2909. Upon reaching the door, she saw the business plaque that read:
D & S Services LLP.
"Oh-oh, Is this a law firm?" she asked herself, and then opened the door.
She entered into a small room about the size of her dentist's waiting room that contained a white leather sofa and a lacquered redwood slab as a coffee table. The receptionist looked up - surprised - not expecting a visitor.
"Excuse me. May I help you?"
"Um...yes. May I speak with Cat...or Margritte, please?"
The receptionist was well dressed and well-manicured. Her black hair was down past her shoulders, her face was exotically beautiful with dark penetrating eyes and full, succulent lips. She wore a white blouse with the top three buttons undone showing off her ample cleavage as well as glimpses of her white lace bra.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Oh. Um...no I don't."
"May I ask what your visit is for?"'
"Oh, yes. I would like to apply for a position they have open."
"A position?" the receptionist questioned, "I wasn't aware we have an open position."
"Oh. I think it's brand new."
"Well, let me ask Cat. Please have a seat."
"Thank you."
As she sat on the sofa, she noticed a large black and white photo on the wall opposite the receptionist's desk. It portrayed a woman's foot in a stiletto heel. A nude blonde wearing a dog collar was kneeling and licking the top of the woman's foot. Her bottom was crisscrossed with what must have been whip stripes. The photo startled Janet by its provocatively sexual aspect.
"Excuse me, Miss? What are you here for?"
The young lady turned her attention from the photo and saw Cat speaking to her. She stood up and straightened her dress realizing her nipples were hard and erect. "Hello. I'm sorry for coming unannounced, but I overheard you are in need of a domme?"
"You heard _?"
"Yes. At the Starbucks."
Cat looked her over with a bit of a sour expression. She was quite petite - five feet if that, but what Cat noticed were her cupcake size breasts - her nipples jutting out of her small mounds which were probably an A-cup. If Cat had to sum her up in a single word, it would've been 'mousy'.
"Come into my office for a moment. What's your name?" Cat asked.
"Janet," she said and walked into Cat's office.
Cat closed the door behind them and sat behind her desk. "So tell me, you have someone in mind to fill our domme position?"
"Yes. I would like to apply for the position."
"You? A domme?"
"Yes. I have experience with both my grandparents."
"Grandparents?" Cat said, "There must be some kind of misunderstanding. Do you know what a domme is?"
"It's short. Short for domiciliary care."
Cat shook her head, "You're right it's short for something. It's short for dominatrix."
Janet's eyebrows rose. "Oh...I see...may I apply for that?"
"Are you fucking with me?" Cat asked.
"No. I mean, I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I would like to apply for the position. Honestly."
From what Cat saw in front of her, there was not a shred of potential in this girl for filling the domme position. Clearly, she was clueless, but for her to apply for the position - blindly - piqued her curiosity.
"Do you know what a dominatrix is and does?"
Janet had heard the word before but never thought about what duties were applicable to the actual job. She recalled the photo in the waiting room and assumed that the woman whose foot was being licked was a domme; she used it as her model.
"It's a woman who inflicts pain on others for sexual gratification," Janet said, not too sure of herself.
Cat perceived that Janet had formed that answer right out of thin air, but was impressed that she was able to give a decent response off the top of her head. Still. Even if she had been experienced - with her petite frame and her childlike voice, Cat couldn't imagine anyone accepting her as their domme.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think you have the experience we are looking for."
"You're right. I don't." Janet chimed in, "But I am a quick learner. All I need is an opportunity. Please. I won't disappoint you."
As direct as Cat was, she could see that Janet was going to be stubbornly persistent. She shook her head at the thought, then waved a dismissive hand in the air and picked up the phone, "Roxanne, please come in for a moment."
