I worked in the garden all day and then dressed and headed for work.
Granny stopped me on the way out and gave me an earful about Cary but I kissed her cheek and said “I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go!”
And it’s the truth - I wasn’t kidding about having a gambling addiction. In New York, we’d head out for a girls night out at the racetracks or over to Atlantic City. It just got worse when I moved to Las Vegas and there was gaming everywhere! Even at the frickin’ grocery store!
So I went into serious debt and made a few bad loans with some really shady characters. Most of them knew that I had a little psychic twinkle and I would use my gift for getting them numbers and racehorse results and sports predictions. I could pull the winning lottery number for some Guido, but I couldn’t even win on a damn scratch off for myself. Still, I got rid of the more troublesome debts and the rest I put on my credit cards - which is why my credit sucks and I have to make deals with suspicious pixies for a reliable automobile.
When I finally got into work, I was lower than a whale’s belly button. I hated Cary and the havoc he was wreaking on my girly bits. And then I’d start thinking about the whole him cheating, me taking off, gambling, la la la and then I’d be depressed for days. What I needed was a distraction - maybe a vacation? But between work and watching over Granny Todd and my money problems, it didn’t look like I was going to get one for a while.
Saturday night at <BAR NAME> was hoppin’. Conventioneers were at the end of their weekend away from being civic and were all lickered up and ready for trouble. The bouncers had to kick more than one group out for being too rowdy. Turns out there was also a tech convention in town and the bar was full of nerds too. The only thing that would make this evening busier would be if there were a SciFi convention going on. Nerds, middle aged jerks, and folks dressed up as fairies, and Klingons, and shit make for an interesting evening.
She is nearly 6 feet tall without heels and tonight she was wearing at least 6 inch platforms. Her naturally long hair was swept up in a elegant twist. She wore a simple white silk blouse with the lace of a bra peeking out and a black leather skirt that was just bootylicious. In one elegant, manicured hand, she held the end of a leash that was attached to a man that was both blindfolded and gagged. He knelt beside her on the floor at her feet. He wore little - just a pair of shorts and flip flops.
From time to time, she would pull off the blindfold, stare into the man’s eyes, and say something. He would blink, look around, and then sheepishly look at the ground. After a few moments, she would put the blind fold back on. If I knew Ursula, I knew that she was being paid to be there and paid well. I wandered over.
“Working hard?” I asked.
“Oh yes. Ronald is such a bad boy and I have to constantly remind him that he is nothing to me,” she said. “Ronald, attention.”
The man leapt to his feet.
“Go get me a tonic water with a twist of lime in a champagne glass,” she ordered. She dropped the reins, he bowed slightly, and then took off at a sprint.
“CEO?” I asked.
“Yep” she replied. “He’s the head of a banking conglomerate and needs to serve in this way so that he can feel better about the way he treats his employees. He’s got “Daddy” issues too.”
“Sounds heavy.”
“Oh it is. But it’s interesting too. It’s so much more interesting to work with people’s psyche this way instead of clinically,” she said. Ursula is a licensed psychologist but she says the money is in S&M. “Whatever floats your boat” is my motto.
“I need some of your expertise. Think you can do a session for me tomorrow?” she asked.
“Sure, I think I will have time around 7 tomorrow evening. Will that work?” I asked.
“It will work very well,” she said as Ronald ran back, carefully, with the requested libation and sank to his knees to present it to her.
“I’ll text you in a bit to confirm our appointment,” I said as I leaned down. We kissed air and I went on my way.
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