The day I'd been waiting for, for so long, had finally arrived. It was official. I owned a nightclub. Not just any old club--something truly special. Broad Horizons was the first nightclub of its kind. We not only catered to the BDSM lifestyle, we were a specialty GLBTQ BDSM entertainment facility.
The downtown warehouse I'd purchased at auction last year was huge and in a perfect location for what I had in mind. Nearly all the other buildings on the block were vacant or had been recently demolished, which left plenty of parking spaces to be found in nearby lots and alongside the curb. It also ensured that the loud music and other illicit activities we'd be engaging in wouldn't disturb anyone. We were pleasantly isolated from the rest of the city, yet still in a convenient location.
It took my entire savings account to cover the down payment on the building and I still had to struggle to find a bank willing to back the venture. The monthly payments eventually drained me so much that I couldn't afford keep my home and pay for the business at the same time.
Maryanne, my girlfriend, partner, and part-time submissive, took it upon herself to sell our small home and move us into the warehouse. The third floor loft was too small to be of much use for the club, but it made a decent-sized apartment and even left us some space for a personal playroom. Something we hadn't had room for at our previous residence.
Construction crews were expensive so we did what we could ourselves. The actual structure of the building was fine. The interior needed major renovating. We faced a daunting prospect that took every penny we had and twelve long, exhausting months of constant struggle. In the end though, it all worked out. The building passed inspection and everything was up to code. We were ready for business. If things really took off the way I expected them to, I had several large investment firms interested in opening up a franchise operation. The agreement came complete with a lifetime contract that gave Maryanne and me total control of the original club and twenty percent of the profits of any of the new night spots. The deal was more than I could have hoped for, but also left a lot riding on one single evening.
The special pink and black engraved invitations and flyers went out months prior to every GLBTQ and BDSM friendly business in town along with several prominent people in the community. My fantasy was becoming a reality, but now that opening day had arrived things weren't going exactly the way I'd planned. Not even close.
Maryanne and I spent the entire night checking and rechecking the club, trying to be sure everything was finished in time for the grand opening at eight. Things looked okay until sometime around sunrise. That's when my dreams began falling apart at the seams.
I was going through the surplus inventory when I realized that the monogrammed matchbooks and cocktail napkins I'd ordered had never arrived. I placed a quick, frantic call to the company only to get the 'they must have gotten lost in the mail' speech. After that, things continued on a rapid downward spiral. The alcohol delivery arrived two hours late and completely wrong. I recounted my order and found out they'd shorted me two cases of champagne and at least ten bottles of vodka. Where I was going to find that much liquor in such a short period of time was anyone's guess. Add that to the fact the entertainment I'd booked for the evening still hadn't shown up, my bouncers and wait staff were AWOL and my girlfriend, and co-owner, had disappeared, and it could easily be understood why I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I was mentally and physically exhausted, and it was beginning to look like all my hard work had been for nothing. The only positive thing so far was the fact that the movers had arrived, albeit late.
"What kind of cruel cosmic bullshit is this? We have less than twelve hours before we officially open for business. This place looks like a fucking tornado came through. With no survivors." I clapped my hands together twice to try and get the attention of the five men and two women the moving company had sent over to deliver the last of the furniture. When that didn't work I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled as long and loud as I could. The shrill, ear piercing sound got me the desired result immediately. Seven bodies halted in the middle of whatever task they were attempting to perform and turned to face me with matching expressions of shock on their faces. The Domme in me couldn't help but smile as I assumed control of the entire room and everyone in it. Being in charge is always a heady feeling no matter what I'm doing at the time.
"We have got a lot to do and very little time to do it." I turned to face them. "I need all the round, black pedestal tables and their matching chairs set up over to my left, in front of the stage. The tables need to be arranged so that everyone is able to view the stage no matter where they are sitting in the room." I paused to figure out what else was missing as they quickly followed my orders. "Now, who has the gold runners?"
The movers gave me matching looks of confusion. "Gold, brocade runners." I held my hands in the air two feet apart. "They are about this long," I moved my hands closer together, "and about this wide. They belong on the black tables."
The girl standing closest to me suddenly shouted and dashed behind the bar, emerging with a big box filled with long golden bolts of fabric. She pulled one out and waved it gleefully in the air. "I've got them, I've got them!"
I shook my head at her enthusiasm and made a mental note to send her home before the club opened for the evening. If she got that excited over a table cloth, she'd have a heart attack at some of the activities sure to take place once we opened for real. I glanced down at the clipboard in my hands and moved to the next item on my list. "Okay, who has the exam table that I ordered for the medical fetish room?"