Tomboy: Dark Dominion (Chapter 2) (Patreon)

Tomboy: Dark Dominion

Chapter 2

“Thank God it’s Friday,” Kelly said, walking across the campus mall.

Her baby blues swept the grassy expanse, college kids spread out in small groups. Some were studying while soaking up the weakening autumnal sun, while most were chatting with friends. It was lunchtime, after all, a lovely sunshiny day.

“I’m free until Monday morning,” she muttered, a grin spreading across her beautiful face. Kelly managed to get her Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes before noon. “What kind of trouble can I get into this weekend?”

After a fruitless week of chasing after protection racketeers, Kelly just wanted to have some fun. Her FEM Fighter friends probably had other ideas.

I have to have at least Friday or Saturday night to let loose and party.

“Hi, Kelly,” a boy called.

She recognized him as a frat boy named Rupert Stevenson. He sat with two others, his twin Gilmore and Mike Tanner. All three sophomores were looking her over with hungry eyes. Kelly felt a little twinge in her belly when she realized they were all undressing her with their eyes.

“My eyes are up here,” she said, giving them a disapproving look.

They laughed it off. She wasn’t dressed provocatively, which she frequently did do. Yet, they continued to stare at her chest. She scowled at them, but knew better than expect respectful behavior from the Stevenson twins. They were the spoiled rotten scions of an influential billionaire. Alexander Stevenson donated millions to Taurus University, and built about half of the buildings on campus. Yeah, his sons got away with everything.

“You want to go for a joy ride in my new Mercedes?” Rupert asked, thrusting his hips.

“No! Leave me alone.”

Kelly strode away in a huff.

Why do I allow guys like them to destroy my good mood? Screw those jerks.

A moment later she topped the low hill, and spotted the Strip through the trees bordering the mall. A few blocks passed along the western edge of campus, lined with cafés, boutiques, and lots of book stores on the other side.

College students filled the sidewalks, filing in and out of all the shops. The stores selling text books weren’t quite as busy, but they sold fiction, too. Most of the bookstores had their own coffee shops, with free wi-fi to pull in business. Kelly’s bright blue eyes locked on a pair of pretty young things sitting in front of the Parisian Café.

“Heeey, beautiful girls,” Kelly called.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Jenny Green said, rushing over to hug her.

Like Kelly, her friends were dressed comfortably for classes: shorts, sneakers, and oversized tee. Their small packs sat on the ground next to them.

“I know,” Kelly said. Then she hugged Whitney Sanders. “What time are we hitting the Comet Club?”

The Comet Club was THE place to be and be seen for TU coeds. It allowed under twenty-one students in, unlike so many other clubs. And it was walking distance from campus, even in heels.

“No can do,” Jenny said. “Didn’t we tell you?”

Kelly gave her a curious look. Jenny and Whitney looked at each other, cheeks flushed red. Whitney averted her eyes, while Jenny smiled at Kelly.

“We… We got jobs,” Jenny said. “At Dominion.”

Kelly looked back and forth between their nervous, expectant faces. All so odd.

“What is Dominion? Some kind of club?” she asked. Keying in on their discomfort, her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward to speak in a hushed voice. “Is it a strip club?”

“No!” Jenny cried.

“Not exactly,” Whitney said softly.

“It’s kinda, sorta a supper club. Upfront,” Jenny said, voice trailing off. “Then she perked up. “But for really rich people. You wouldn’t believe the tips we get!”

“I’m getting around three hundred a night in tips,” Whitney said. “It more than makes up for the BS.”

“What BS?”

“Well,” Jenny said, both coeds looking uncomfortable again. “Waitresses have to wear really skimpy uniforms. And the patrons’ something…”

“Constantly,” Whitney interjected.

“…are a little handsy,” Jenny said. She shrugged. “But, yeah. Three hundred a night is fifteen hundred in tips every week. And we get paid, too.”

“Oh my God! That’s like seventy-five or eighty thousand a year!” Kelly cried.

“Exactly,” Whitney said. “And honestly, it isn’t much worse than the fondling we endure at the clubs.”

“What?” Kelly asked, eyes huge. “Is that legal?”

“Probably not,” Jenny said. “But it’s so much money! I’ve only worked there three nights, and I’ve already bought that pair of bright yellow Christian Louboutin pumps I’ve been wanting.”

Kelly’s breath whooshed out. Those shoes were so damned cute!

If I had eight hundred dollars, I would’ve bought them, she thought.

The café owner, Mrs. Trudeau, stepped out to check on her customers. The thirty-something, dark-haired woman had a bruise on her chin, and a scratch on her neck. Kelly’s heart started to race. Were the protection racket boys leaning on her now?

“So you’re not mad at us for working at a BDSM club?” Whitney asked.

“No, of course… What?” Kelly cried. “You didn’t say anything about it being a sex club.”

“We’re not in the sex club part,” Jenny said. Then in a smaller voice, “Not yet.”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “Are you going to have sex for money?”

“No!” Whitney cried. When other diners looked their way, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’ll just lead us around on leashes and collars, tie us up, and maybe spank us. A little.”

“Okay, they will screw us, too,” Jenny said. “But it’s not what you think. It’s not prostitution. We work for wages, and tips.”

Sitting back, Kelly stared at her friends. They were BDSM prostitutes, despite their protests to the contrary. That BS about working for “tips and wages” was probably the rationale the club owners used to convince them it was perfectly all right.

“It’s actually quite a lot of fun,” Whitney said. “I like it rough.”

“And we haven’t actually worked in the dungeon,” Jenny said. “Not exactly. Lady Lovelace showed it to us last night, at the end of our shift. We could make even more in tips back there if we agree to move from wait staff to slavegirl.”

“The position is actually called ‘slavegirl’ and you are considering accepting it?”

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “Please don’t hate me.”

“I would never hate you guys,” she said, eyes starting to burn. “You’re my best friends. I love you both.”

They had to hug it out. After a few minutes the young coeds settled back into their chairs. Kelly just shook her head at them.

“You should seriously think about working there,” Jenny said. Her eyes dropped to Kelly’s chest. “You’d make twice as much as us with your body. The bigger a girl’s boobs, the more tips she gets. That’s the only reason Whitney gets more tips than me.”

“That is so mean,” Whitney cried.

They laughed.

Kelly’s mind wandered. With all the sexy times she’d had in her past, first back in Ohio, and then with Chase and Carrie in Dallas, the young blonde could definitely handle that job better than her friends. And they seemed to be having fun while earning a butt load of money. Still, it was awful salacious, and she was pretty sure illegal. At the very best skirting legality.

Besides, she had a job. Super heroine. Being a FEM Fighter was almost a full-time job, without any pay or benefits. Still, it took up most of her free time.

“I can’t,” Kelly said. “I’m on a softball scholarship, and that means I have to play ball. Practice will take up all my time.”

“That’s during the spring semester,” Whitney said. “You could earn a lot of cash before then.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kelly said, but knew she wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it and remain a FEM Fighter. She looked at Mrs. Trudeau and knew what she’d be doing that night. “In the meantime, what are your nights off so we can plan our next girls’ night?”