La Maison 2: Differences (Complete: BDSM mxm)

December 2

A/N: a long one - December 2 is a busy evening!

Dae

My time has come. I quickly but carefully balance the plates, nimbly stepping into the restaurant, avoiding all the idiots who are apparently blind to someone carrying delicate porcelain laden with hot food. I only hiss when some broad-shouldered douche backs towards me without looking, biting my tongue to prevent the backlash, because I know my own backlash would be far worse if I were to get fired. I make it to the table, finally, without further incident, lowering my eyes as I place the plates before their owners. It was hard to demonstrate my skills when I was taking the orders, one of the fools apparently needing to ask the precise ingredients of every dish, until the big one muttered at him to stop being such a princess and just pick something. I say the big one, but they're all big compared to me. He's the biggest though, sitting straight-backed with his head held high. He makes me shiver, and not in a good way. That kind of confidence is frightening, I think, but I don't have a choice. Or I did, maybe in the past. I know it's my own actions that have brought me here now.

"Will that be everything, Sir?" I purposefully address the big one, thinking he'll like that. Well, I suspect they'd all like that, but he's the one I'm trying to impress. I can't tell if I get a nice little narrowing of the eyes in appreciation because I'm very carefully keeping my eyes on the ground.

"Yes, thank you. What's your name?" his voice is a low growl, but I don't think it means anything. He looks like an animal, of course he growls.

"Dae, Sir." I wait, expecting a dismissal, maybe it's a test.

"Thank you, Dae, you're dismissed." I leave. I think that was it, and I hope I passed.

The evening was a wash after all. I managed to keep it up the whole time, nearly missing them calling for their check because I was so eager to show that I never look in anyone's eyes, but luckily Lacey just thought I was feeling stressed so nudged me to get me moving. I got a three-hundred-dollar tip on an early seating, so I presume they liked something about my service, but the big guy didn't say anything else directly to me. I don't know if I did something wrong: my training has been perfunctory at best, but I'm going to keep quiet about my failure. He'll be back, I'll get another chance. He owns the place after all.

* * * * *

Dexter

"Dex, can I see you in my office?" François asks, and I pat tonight's sub, Alain, telling him to stay where he is.

When we're inside the warm comfortable space I take a seat, and François passes me a whiskey and water.

"Serious?" I ask, nodding at the drink.

"Hopefully not, but it may take a while," he admits. "I'm having some problems, with the company, and I need your advice." I know which company he's referring to immediately. François would certainly try to resolve things on his own first, and problems with the club would have been alluded to sooner, as he began to resolve them. This must be his family's property development company, which François and his siblings have been taking from strength to strength. But rapid expansion can certainly raise red flags, and the fact that my own business is personal protection means I can already take a guess.

"Have you been threatened?" I ask.

"You could say that. Last week I had a visit from one Andrei Volkushkin, who suggested a business merger, and wasn't exactly happy and smiling when I turned him down."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not explicitly. Just said he wasn't used to being told no, in that way, you know, that makes it sound like a threat."