Free Look but Don't Touch by Cara Dee Page B

we call her 'Drifter'." Amanda chuckles wryly about another cousin of hers. "I swear, that girl is always on the move. Last I heard, she lived in Florida." She sighs and looks out the window. "We can only hope she won't make another spectacle. Last time we all got together, she stormed out, caused a scene, just because we didn’t agree on something. So immature." 
    I hum in acknowledgement, pretending to listen, and stop at a red light. I can't help it, really, but my mind is occupied with thoughts about tonight—and not Amanda's night. We have themed events at Switch every month, but it's been a long time since that theme was Daddy/Little Girl. The closest we've come recently was a few months ago when Fetish Night was about spanking, and many Daddies showed up with their little ones.

 
Chapter 2
    When I enter my club, it's buzzing with anticipation. I'm relieved, feeling like this is a place where I can finally let go and be myself. I greet several friends and acquaintances on the way, and I try to keep my eyes off the submissives, many of them wearing frilly dresses or just skimpy underthings. Looking is obviously allowed, but just being here is tempting enough. If I were smart, I'd stay out here near the lobby, or maybe even hide out upstairs in my office, but I can't resist.
    It would be easy to cave; after all, there are single people here, too—Little Girls and Daddy Doms looking for a new relationship, and I have had my fair share of offers—but then I'd be back at square one.
    The club area, square-shaped with high ceilings and kept deliberately dark, is simply furnished, the only decoration being erotic photos on the walls. To my right as I walk in, there's a seating area with tables and barstools; the bar is next. After that, there is a platform for public scening. Contraptions such as a St. Andrew's Cross, benches, a leather sling, and suspension bars take up most of the space, but glass cabinets with floggers, crops, whips, cuffs, paddles, and other toys are on display, too. The wall across from me, as well as the one to my left, is lined with black leather booths. My office sits above it all. Through the clear windows I have a perfect view of the whole place but most importantly the scening area.
    Heading over to the bar, I say hello to Mark—one of my bartenders and a close friend—and order a glass of tonic water with lime. We talk a little while I survey the club, and he mentions that his divorce has been finalized—at last—but I know he's not fond of delving deeper into the subject, so I let it go. For now.
    The rock music playing is loud, though not so loud that you have to shout to be heard, and I smile, satisfied with the large crowd. The dance floor may be pretty empty, but this isn't a night for dancing anyway. The booths are full, and a few groups of people have already gathered near the scening area.
    My club is sex. Everyone is here for pleasure and learning more about pleasure. While penetration isn't permitted unless you're doing a scene, basically everything else is allowed—not counting edgeplay activities like fire play, blood play, and asphyxiation. But we're a creative bunch of people. In one booth, for instance, it's very clear that one Dom/Daddy is being serviced by his little one who's under the table. Another couple, standing in a corner, is definitely up to something, as well.
    I wonder if they know how lucky they are.
    "Um, hi! May I have a Sprite, please?" a happy voice asks Mark. Tilting my head to the right, I look down to see a young woman, definitely a Little Girl, standing there. Despite the darkness of the club, I can see that her brown hair has hints of dark red. It's gathered in two low pigtails, long enough to reach past her ample cleavage. Her baby-doll dress is both innocent and provocative as hell. In light yellow with white lace, it's cute. But the way it pushes her tits together shoves "innocent" out the window. It's also short, ending right below her ass, and