Chapter Two
It couldn’t be Nate.
But he lifted his head and yes, that was definitely her ex.
Fuck. Fuck.
Her skin was clammy, her pulse racing, and she realized that she was making herself smaller on the chair, drawing back, and trying to shuffle to the side behind the throuple in front of the cross.
Scar’s eyes flickered from the entrance to the bar. There was a door there that led to the kitchen, and to the offices. If she just kept her head down and walked quickly, she could get out of here before he noticed her.
Wait. She looked over to where Briar was showing a new Little around. She couldn’t just leave; she was the Little Liaison.
But she could feel her breath coming in shorter bursts, and felt the long-forgotten sensation of panic clawing at her throat.
“Scar?” Nia was crouching down beside her, and the other Little reached out and took Scar’s shaking hands. “What’s the matter?”
“I… I…” She couldn’t get the sentence out. It was as if he’d stolen her words all over again; returned her to that silent frightened girl that she’d been in their relationship.
It shouldn’t be like this. She’d had years to get over it, years since she’d left him behind her.
“Get Briar,” said Nia to the Black woman standing behind her. Brooklyn moved quickly and quietly away. “I’ve got you Scar, I promise you. You’ve got an army of Littles at your disposal.”
Her laugh sounded harsh and jagged, but at least it was a laugh. There was something of her bruised survivalism still inside somewhere. He hadn’t banished all of it with his presence.
“Scarlet?” And now Briar was next to Nia, looking at her anxiously. “Scarlet, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”
“I need to get out.” Her words were raw and Scar was horrified to feel her eyes burning, as if threatening her with falling tears. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of him. “Please, Briar. Help me.”
“I’ve got you.” She stood up, putting her arm around Scar’s waist and pulling her close. “Lean on me if you have to; you’re really shaky.”
“Liaisons.” The word was a whisper that forced itself from Scar’s lips. The last thing she wanted to do was stick around, but she couldn’t just leave everyone in the lurch.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Briar. “As if you could be a Liaison in this state. Koa will take over from you, and Nia, is Taylor around?”
Nia nodded.
“Excellent, ask her to step in for me please.”
Scar froze and stared.
“I thought you wanted my help getting out?” Briar’s tone was brisk, but there was something akin to concern in her eyes when she looked at Scar. “For fuck’s sake Scarlet, I’m not going to leave you on your own in the middle of a panic attack, now come on.”
They got all the way to the door by the bar, when Scar turned to look back across the room.
Nate was standing next to Brook, talking to her with that you-are-so-interesting look on his face. Scar wanted to throw up. She couldn’t run away. She couldn’t leave him lose in a room of unsuspecting Littles.
“Briar.”
“Yes, Scarlet?”
“That man over there, the one talking to Brook?”
“Yes.” Briar’s voice was very quiet.
“He’s my ex.”
She didn’t have to say more than that, didn’t need to. Briar had seen her in the aftermath of that breakup. Had explained about sub frenzy, and had cautioned her against playing with too many people too quickly.
It had been a wise warning; Scar had already felt like she was spinning out of control, trying desperately to cling on to anything that reproduced the feeling of being cared for by a Caregiving Dominant. Nothing worked.
And so Scar had decided that she was done with Caregivers. She loved Littlespace, but that was for playdates with other Littles, and solo Little time at home. But kink or sex or any of the rest of it?
Nothing.
She didn’t have to rely on anyone else to make her whole.
“The ex?” Briar’s voice cut through her thoughts. She nodded.
Briar pulled the radio from her belt and pressed the button. “I need security here. Now.” With her other hand, she ushered Scar through the door. “Give me two minutes Scarlet, and then I’ll be with you, okay? You’re safe, I promise.”
And then the door was swinging shut and Scar was left standing on her own in the corridor.
She could hear a slight muffled commotion from the room behind her, and then raised voices. Nate’s raised voice, protesting loudly.
Her legs shook, and she slid down the wall until she was sat on the floor, pulling her legs to her, and leaning back until she could feel the cold brickwork against her back.
The raised voices lessened, as if moving further away, and then the normal hum of noise in the club resumed.
The door swung open, and Briar almost tripped over Scar.
“Scarlet, what are you doing on the floor?”
Scar looked up in indignation—it was very fucking clear what she was doing on the floor—but the sternness in Briar’s gaze, the familiar seriousness that she knew so well, grounded her.
“Up you get,” said Briar, offering her a hand. “No point blocking the fire escape doors; that’s a Health and Safety problem waiting to happen. Come into my office.”
Without a word, Scar let Briar pull her up and lead her down the corridor to the large office that waited at the end of it.
It was a simple office, minimalist, with a desk and filing cabinets and a computer and desk chair. Scar had been there before, at her interview for the Little Liaison position. She’d been so focused on smashing the interview, that she hadn’t noticed the two-person couch that Briar led her to now.
Sitting down, she kicked off her shoes and curled up into the corner.
“Water,” said Briar, handing her a bottle of water from a mini fridge.
Scar was so exhausted, she didn’t even roll her eyes or protest. She just took the bottle and gulped half of it down. And when Briar handed her a plate with crackers and cheese on it, she ate those too. After that, she felt more herself enough to suggest a sugary snack. “For the shock.”
Briar hmphed a bit, but gave her some chocolate anyway.
She let Scar finish it half of the chocolate bar before saying carefully, “We’ve asked him to leave, and will be checking his references again.
He should have attended a munch on Monday before a Saturday Spanks, and I’ll need to look into why his non-attendance was missed. ”
She didn’t say anything, just kept eating her chocolate, and trying to let the delight of the popping candy within it distract her from how fast her heart was beating.
“He won’t be coming back, Scarlet.”
Scar looked up then. “Just because I said he’s my ex?” Not that she wasn’t grateful, but that felt oddly like favoritism.
“No, because you disclosed your past experiences in your application to the club, in the triggers section. So I know exactly why you had the reaction you did tonight. And I don’t want someone like that around my club, my friends, or my… you.”
Scar didn’t know how to respond to that. She didn’t know how to respond to any of the things that had happened that evening—from Nate’s appearance, to Briar’s rescue, to this moment now, sat in Briar’s office eating chocolate.
She wanted to go Little. She wanted to go Little and have the full-blown tantrum that her Big self never allowed to happen.
“Yus,” she said. “He’s bad people.”
Briar blinked, and then nodded. “Very bad people.”
“He deserves bites.”
“Bites?”
“Yus. Bad people gets bites.”
“I see,” said Briar, and Scar wasn’t sure if Briar actually saw, or was just saying so. She thought she should double check.
She closed her teeth together several times in a biting motion, just to illustrate the point.
“Yes, very good biting, Scarlet.”
“Fank you.”
Scar looked around the room. Her Big self had retreated, and the Little self that never showed herself outside of Scar’s home was in full control.
Usually she was closer to a Middle, and her littlest Little only appeared at points of crisis.
Her eyes alighted on a cushion, that she picked up and bit. Hard.
Not as satisfying as biting bad people, but still pretty good.
Briar made a sound that Scar had never heard her make before. “Would you like something to bite on, Scarlet?”
“Yus, p’ease.”
She sat on the couch and kicked her legs back and forth until Briar came back with an array of different things. There was a leather strap, the kind used in discipline and punishment play. Scar growled at it and threw it across the room.
“Bad.”
Briar merely raised her eyebrows and gestured towards the other objects. There were some silicone chewies for oral stimming, and what looked like an adult-sized teether.
Scar hesitated. Usually she’d grab the chewies—she had some at home for stimming—but something was pulling her towards the teether. It was for a really little Little, Scar knew, and she was a Big girl usually but she was tired and cross and she didn’t want to be even a tiniest bit Big right now.
Snatching the teether up, she looked at Briar, as if daring her to saying anything, and popped it in her mouth.
“Good girl,” said Briar.
Scar’s eyes widened, and not in her usual faux-innocent way. She was actually surprised.
It must have shown because Briar burst out laughing. “Oh dear, you really are very Little, aren’t you. What do you usually do when you’re this Little?”
“Bite fings,” said Scar, and bit down on the teether menacingly to demonstrate.
“I’ve never seen you this Little before,” said Briar, almost to herself.
“Jus’ for me.”
“Just for you?”
She nodded vigorously.
“But you’re here with me.”
Scar considered this. “’s true. Briar safe.”
There was a part of her, the Big part, that was yelling at Scar to hush, be quiet, to stop talking, but Scar’s Little didn’t have any such filter. “Wish you was my Daddy.”