Safe and Sane

Doyle had been back long enough to get over the worst of the jet lag before heading to the university to let them know he was back in town. It was near the top of his 'list of things to do before January', which included reupping his membership at the club and get real food for his flat. And it meant he could stop in and say hi to Beth.

The surprise came when she wasn't there. However, the other ladies in her office were able to tell him where he needed to go. One even had a business card, which gave him the address. And so he left them to go find this 'Strokes' place.

She had her back to the door when he entered and Doyle grinned, sneaking up to the counter and leaning over it. "So," he said, the faint Irish accent he'd always had from his parents having thickened some from being in Ireland. "I go to see my favorite girl at her office today, only to find out that she's up sticks and gone off to greener pastures!" A pause and another lean. "Or, at least, pastures with more cake. What are you making, love?"

Saturday mornings, Beth had found, were likely to be slower than weekday mornings. While she hadn't really expected customers from nearby businesses, apparently they'd taken a liking to her baking and seemed to come in a steady stream from ten onwards to buy cakes to have with their midmorning coffee, or sandwiches for lunch. On Saturdays, though, there were less people, and Beth had put back opening until eleven.

It gave her more time for baking, and that particular Saturday, there was still a batch of scones in the oven when she opened, risking the few minutes she needed to get them out when, of course, the sound of the bell alerted her to the opening of the outside door. Beth cursed, backed through the swing doors with the hot tray still in her hands, and leaned back far enough to speak to her customer. "I'm so terribly sorry, I'll just be a moment, please make yourself comfortable and...Jack?"

Stuart was having a nice cuppa in the gallery at Strokes. The cold weather was starting to get to him and he had foregone his usual expresso for a nice cup of decent tea, hands cradling his mug as he looked through the art with better focus than he had on the opening night.

Jason had been terribly distracting, after all.

He looked up when a pretty young woman walked into the gallery to go and put a red sticker by one of the pieces, marking it as sold. Could she be the urban legend herself? He walked immediately closer.

"I'm terribly sorry if you're the wrong person, darling, but would you by any chance happen to be the famous Beth?"

Veterans Day meant a holiday, but not for the cafe. It wasn't quite just an excuse for the cafe owner to find a new way to decorate, but there was a large flag pinned up behind the counter, and poppies were propped in small vases on each table.

The weather had taken a sudden turn for the better, almost spring-warm, and the last rays of afternoon sun were still finding the cafe windows as the first of the munch attendees began to arrive.

The club had been transformed. The main room was no longer recognizable as a lounge; it had been made over with mood lighting and subtle decorations. On one end there was a huge buffet, the bar was open and tended. There was even room for dancing on a small wooden floor that had been laid down on the opposite end of the room. Scattered about were bowls of candy of all kinds.

One of the smaller lounges hosted traditional party games -- bobbing for apples, donuts on a string, even a table set up for carving small gourds and pumpkins. A few of the private play rooms on the main level had also been opened, set up for groups or exhibitionism, but as in previous year that wasn't the focus of the night. And, in case anyone had forgotten a costume or hadn't been able to find one, the smallest public lounge was being used as sort of a large wardrobe.

A large poster in the hallway announced the categories for the costume contest: scariest, funniest, the most creative, best couple or group, and -- of course -- the sexiest.

The weather had been up and down -- freezing cold, not bad, and, if the forecasters were correct, outright pleasant for the rest of the week. The crew at the coffee shop had given up trying to predict what was going to sell and had decided to just offer everything up. Hot, spiced, cold, chocolate. If you wanted it, you could have it.

John opened the door for Beth, which of course got her an enthusiastic greeting from Jack. He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then went and flopped back on his couch, legs dangling over one arm and head about ... a quarter of the way to the other side, actually. "Hey, sunshine. Come sit down and tell me how you're doing."

Another morning at Strokes. One where Beth was, admittedly, being more careful than previously, thanks to the fact that her entire hand was bandaged up and she was limited to one, and at some point that was going to be a nuisance. Not yet, though, simple recipes, freezer stocks and Dotty's help meaning they weren't going to run short of cakes for quite some while to come.

It did mean she was slower, though, and she was still laying the plates of today's cakes out on the counter for display when the customer walked in. One she didn't recognise, and that was more than enough to summon extra warmth to Beth's smile. "Good morning! What can I get for you?"

darling, can I see 
you sometime soon
please? love Beth
xx

Pete couldn't believe how much work had smothered him of late -- he'd barely remembered to feed himself, surviving mostly on black coffee and cigarettes as they had proven far easier to fit around his busy schedule. He'd begun to feel somewhat like a caged animal, trapped in either his office or his flat, buried under mountains of paperwork that showed no signs of diminishing. This evening, though, he'd swept his desk clean and sworn to himself he'd get out and go further afield than the bar around the corner. He made his way into the club slowly, wondering just what might have changed in his absence.

At last. The final element of Beth's venture was ready to open, the gallery ready to her satisfaction and Jason's, and displaying (after a certain amount of discussion) a selection of pieces created by each of the artists who would later be holding their own show in the gallery.

The cafe was brightly lit against the dull weather outside, and the store was still open downstairs, but the focus for today was on the gallery, the seating area at one end, and the works on display (and sale) there.

Someone in the cafe definitely had a resource of obscure holidays. This Wednesday fell on National Aviation Day, and one of the members of staff had obviously decided it was a good idea to mark it, but hadn't been quite sure how. Several model airplanes sat on top the counter and were suspended from the ceiling, swaying gently in the draft from the AC vents, with no explanation at all.

The original opening of Strokes had been a relatively public affair, open to all. The expansion, opening the store downstairs, was more private. Considering the space available, it had to be - the store was considerably smaller than the cafe upstairs, and there were stricter age restrictions on access. An invitation had gone out to all members of the club, and Beth had also left the details with Danielle in case she was generous enough to invite any of her customers.

The cafe upstairs was still open, of course, and Beth had left Dotty in charge up there after a frenzy of baking to ensure that they'd have enough to feed everyone. Downstairs, Beth held sway.

Counters along the center of the room had glass tops to display various sex toys, and the shelves below held neatly stacked boxes of the same toys displayed above. Should anyone want a closer look - or feel - Beth had prudently kept two of each behind her counter for testing purposes, and a small curtained off area next to the counter for privacy while testing. On top of the counter was a display case holding jewellery and some of the more expensive collars and restraints.

Shelves against one wall held a small selection of books, cards, and novelties along with the more practical supplies - lubes, hygiene, condoms, dams, etc - and a small case on the opposite wall held the library selection, available for people to peruse at their leisure. Tacked on the door was a small poster politely detailing expected behaviour - D/s behavious was, of course, more than acceptable, but no public nudity and no actual sex was to be permitted, or she'd lose her license.

Candles lit the tables upstairs, low electrical lighting set the mood downstairs. Now all she needed was guests, and potential customers.

He was fucking ridiculous. Even Jenny thought so, and kept turning her nose on him due to the probably very fucking weird vibes he gave off.

He wasn't used to being nervous.

"Fuck it." He grabbed his cell and called Beth, not letting her get so much as a full 'Hello?' in when she picked up. "Something's horribly wrong with me. My stomach's in knots, I can't fucking decide on whether I'm taking the truck or the bike and Jenny is ignoring me, all this for a man who has on his own replaced the entirety of my spank bank since I first saw him. First, and last. This is what I failed to tell you last time, this is not fucking normal. I don't work like this."

Another Wednesday, nearly August, and thunderstorms outside. Power held - so far - but the cafe was taking no chances. Which meant that instead of lights on inside, each table was lit by a couple of tealights safely protected in the bottom of water glasses, giving the whole place an unusually intimate atmosphere.

Hot drinks would be on offer as long as the power held out, and the owner and staff appeared to be praying for that between each order.

I'M NOT PREGNANT!

Saturday night, and the club was open to all members. None of the rooms were reserved, for that one night. Light food and drinks were laid out in the common room, the demo rooms were set up with small stage areas free for anyone's use, and the lounges were set aside, dim lights and blankets available for anyone who needed an escape.

Two of the larger rooms had been opened together to form a dance floor, and the garden was open to make the most of the light remaining as the long summer evening faded to darkness.

Mid parked his pick-up in front of Beth's building, surprised to find a spot right there. Long live summer break. He quickly jogged up to her front door and rang once. He'd left Jenny at home, having her around while moving things would hardly be practical.

Thankfully, the opening night hadn't left the place in too bad a state; he'd seen far, far worse than just this scattering of dreg-filled cups and used plates. Didn't take too long to get everything squared away and he let Beth get on with everything she needed to do before heading out, working on putting the seats up on the tables, humming a little tunelessly to himself.

It was time. The cakes were laid out, the coffee machine was on, the tables were set out and clean. A few relatively discreet prints adorned the walls, and a small display cabinet in the corner showcased the sort of goods that would later be on sale downstairs.

Flyers described the plans for the store, the library and the gallery, and as a last minute remembrance that she wasn't in London and the weather would be terribly nice most of the time and some people would, after all, want to smoke, Beth had arranged a couple of tables in the tiny courtyard at the front of the store, with large, bright parasols shading the strength of the sun.

Now she simply had to cross her fingers and pray that people would turn up.