Safe and Sane

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.

Mona had made sure to make all necessary arrangements with India by calling and texting the younger woman's despised cell phone. Calling a few days in advance to confirm the scene, the time and place. Texting just a few hours ago to confirm the number of the suite she'd booked at the club. The suite with an adjoining bathroom where she had lit a few candles ten minutes before their appointment, the suite where she had brought quite a few of her toys. She did not like using the club's.

Now she was waiting in the room, sitting on an armchair, long legs crossed. She was in a corset and stiletto boots, all black, a riding crop resting across her thighs, and thinking about the scene to come. Working herself up to be in the right mindset when India arrived.

That was a very easy mindset to put herself in.

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.

Mona was patiently waiting at a table in Beth's café, a latte in front of her. She was slightly early, and watched the people around her rather than looked at any of the books while she waited.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait very long.

Let me know when you have time for a cup of coffee.

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.

The weather seemed to be doing its best to make up for the week before, and in response, the doors to the cafe were firmly closed to keep the heat out, and the airconditioning in. At least, until the aircon broke down, at which point doors were propped open, fans distributed around the cafe, and extra ice stockpiled behind the counter.

One member of staff was detailed to stand by with a mop to wipe up any wet floors resulting from people throwing ice at each other.

Jason had taken over one of the couches. Or, more importantly, the coffee table in front of it. His checklist was spread over it, not quite half filled out, and a cup of coffee at his elbow.

"I think this thing is going to eat me," he said aloud, chewing on his pen. "And not in the happy fun way, either."

Wednesday again, and another munch night. The cafe was increasingly quiet as layoffs took effect on household finances, and the board behind the counter was scattered with offers.

Quite why anyone would want to buy two coffees and get a third free, or whether it was a good idea for the majority of munch attendees, was anyone's guess.

Mardi Gras might have been the day before, but the cafe had declared Shrove Week rather than Shrove Tuesday. A rather harried looking member of staff had been declared official pancake tosser, and pancakes were being sold with a number of imaginative fillings.