Poker Posse 1: Looking at Rose by Qwillia Rain Page B

where her friends hovered over several documents.
    “Fairly straightforward, ladies,” Mabel announced. “No interfering between a dominant and his or her submissive. If you want to play, you have to ask permission first. Keep your hands off other people’s property unless you ask and are given permission to touch. No means no. The safe words are Red, Yellow, Green. No photographs or video. And stay behind the green line at each of the display areas.”
    After Mabel signed one of the agreements, folded her copy, and tucked it into her purse, Viola, Betty Jo, and the others signed their copies as well.
    The young man took their papers and set them in a folder before motioning toward the two men beside the entrance to the club. “The shows began half an hour ago and will end at midnight. There is a limit of three alcoholic beverages per person if you aren’t going to play, one if you are, and a required designated driver.”
    Mabel held her hand up. “That would be me, son. Now, may we go in?”
    The boy jumped to his feet and handed an orange rubber bracelet to Mabel. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll scan your right index finger and take your name, then you can enter. Enjoy your visit to the Omen.”
    Viola understood the boy’s nervousness. In her cherry-red suit and with her hair pulled into a neat chignon, Mabel exuded power and command. Even the men at the door seemed intimidated despite towering several inches over Mabel’s slender frame. While she and Betty Jo had to give their name to the doorman after their fingerprints were scanned, Mabel hadn’t. Rae and Lucy were right behind them when a masculine yelp had Viola and Betty Jo turning to see the man at one of the doors rubbing his butt and sending a dismayed look at Rae.
    Viola couldn’t help but grin while Betty Jo shook her head. “Rae, that boy is younger than Arabella. Behave yourself.”
    Rae rolled her eyes and grinned unashamedly. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Betty Jo. You know it’s better to get ’em young and train ’em well instead of dealing with breakin’ bad habits.”
    Her mind spinning at the amount of bare skin and leather on display around her, Viola tugged on the sleeve of Betty Jo’s dark green suit.
    “Yes, Vi?”
    To distract herself from memories she’d thought long buried and not because she didn’t know the information already, Viola asked, “Remind me again what a safe word is.”
    Mabel answered instead. “A safe word is a specific word chosen to slow, suspend, or stop play altogether if a submissive is feeling nervous or has had enough.”
    Rae piped up next. Her tight black dress, black stilettos, and chunky gold jewelry fit right in with many of the people present. “Green means everything is okay.”
    Even as Viola watched Rae’s attention drift toward the second floor, Lucy provided the reminder for the next safe word. “Yellow means to slow down or ease off on the intensity.”
    Lucy’s interest seemed focused on a bare-chested blond man who assisted a nude woman from a table before wrapping her in a blanket. Holding her close to his side, he carefully guided her down the steps and over to a small settee where he settled into the cushions and cuddled her on his lap.
    Betty Jo finished the explanation. “Red means the submissive wants to stop altogether or renegotiate elements of the scene that may be too much.”
    Viola watched Betty Jo’s gaze rise toward the second floor. She hadn’t really paid attention to her friends’ explanations, having learned about safe words and how they were used long ago, but her worries about memories intruding were unfounded as someone across the room drew her interest. Absently she muttered, “Okay,” as she watched a man situated atop a cage constructed of thick black bars.
    Several feet separated the cage and the floor, but the man didn’t seem fazed by the distance. A closer look brought a grin to Viola’s lips. Jackpot! She’d bet Betty Jo’s winnings from last night’s