Bound to Rise
Cecilia woke up to the unnerving sound of her alarm clock. Reaching over without looking, she batted at the clock until she hit snooze, knowing in five minutes she’d either have to do it again—or get up and face the day.
“Just a few more minutes, please,” she muttered, begging her brain to shut off. Thoughts already pouring in, she groaned as a plump little body stretched beside her. She reached out, grabbing her calico cat, Jude, and pulled her close for a snuggle. Jude was reluctant at first but eventually rubbed her head against Cecilia’s hand, demanding head and chin scratches.
Giggling, she said, “Wish someone would give me head scratches just for being cute and fluffy.” Jude purred in response, lost in her own pleasure.
Sighing, Cecilia finally gave in and began to get up. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she glanced at the clock. It was 6:34 AM—she needed to be at work by 8. She shut her alarm off before it could send its piercing noise to the heavens once more. Standing up to stretch, she moved to her closet to grab her work clothes and head for the shower.
She chose a fitted dress with a black cowl neck and charcoal bodice, paired with open-toed black pumps and matching gray lace bra and panties. Satisfied, she began her morning routine. Keeping the water lukewarm to help wake herself up, she managed to wash, shampoo, condition, and shave in under 30 minutes. Stepping out, refreshed, she moved to her vanity.
Pulling her long dark auburn hair from the towel, she debated whether to wear it in loose beach waves or straighten it to highlight its full length. In the end, she opted for a French braid—easier in the warm, humid weather and perfect for achieving nice waves for the evening. Seeing it was a quarter past seven, she started her makeup: soft eyeshadow to make her amber eyes pop, a bit of highlight for her bronzed skin, and a pale pink lip plumper.
Smiling at her reflection, she finished dressing and stood in front of her full-length mirror for a final once-over. She stood 5’6” in her three-inch heels, her hourglass figure nicely outlined by the dress. She wasn’t overly skinny or heavy, with a modest B-cup bust and just enough waist-to-hip contrast to make her curves noticeable.
Grabbing her purse, she gave Jude one last pet before heading out. She lived in the quiet suburbs just outside the city; her 20-minute commute would give her enough time to grab coffee and breakfast before her first meeting. En route, her phone rang and a familiar face popped up.
Smiling, she answered, “Morning, Rue! How’s my beautiful best friend this morning?”
A no-nonsense voice answered, “Excuse me! Don’t ‘beautiful best friend’ me, CeCe! Where were you last night? You were supposed to be out with me, Isla, and Reece.”
Sighing, CeCe responded apologetically, “I know, but I had a meeting this morning and a presentation to finish for the design department. I’m almost at work now—I’ll see you at lunch, and you can tell me everything.”
“Fine,” Rue huffed. “But you better go out with us tonight. No excuses.”
CeCe giggled. “Deal. Gotta go. Bye!”
Hanging up, she pulled into the garage and found a parking spot. Glancing at her watch, she had five minutes to reach the meeting room. She hustled to the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. She hated that you had to cross the lobby just to reach the other set of elevators.
As she exited, she saw the next elevator doors closing. “Hold the door!” she called. A hand jutted out just in time. Slightly out of breath, she offered a polite thank you and pressed for the 8th floor. Smoothing her dress, she reviewed her meeting notes, paying no attention to her fellow passenger. When the doors opened on the 7th floor, the other rider stepped out—CeCe still too engrossed in her notes to look up.
At the 8th floor, she stepped out and made her way down the hall to the meeting room. Everyone was already inside. Being head of brand design development, the sight fueled her—she felt prepared for battle. Entering with a warm smile, she began her presentation for a new company logo. By noon, the meeting ended with promising results, and her stomach growled.
She texted her friends: Ready. Where are we meeting?
When she arrived at the restaurant, her friends were already seated at a corner table. She could tell by their giggles and pointing that they were gossiping about the bartender. Reece—a 5’11” blonde with green eyes and prominent hips—spotted her first.
“There she is! Too good to go out last night, but here in all her stuck-up glory!”
CeCe laughed. “I told you guys—I had a presentation.”
She quickly ordered lunch before Rue, a voluptuous redhead with hazel eyes and pale skin, chimed in. “Yeah, well Isla had eight back-to-back meetings with the IT department about hand washing and she still came out.”
“Isla’s in HR,” CeCe replied, smirking. “She lives off staff despair. As long as she’s enforcing policies, she’s thriving.”
Isla sat quietly, drink in hand, half-listening as she stared heatedly at the bartender. Her platinum braids draped over her shoulder, contrasting beautifully with her dark skin. At 5’7”, Isla was the most stylish of them all. She wore patterned dark pants, a matching vest, and a peach blouse that hugged her full figure.
“I’ll be right back,” Isla said, setting her drink down and heading to the bar.
The others watched her go.
“She works so fast!” Reece said. “Bets! Let’s see how fast she gets his number. Loser buys drinks tonight. Go!”
“Thirty seconds after they exchange names!” Rue chimed.
“One minute from when she left the table,” Reece countered.
“Right now,” CeCe declared, just as Isla was returning and stuffing a napkin in her pocket.
“Reece, you lose!” Rue cheered.
“What? They didn’t even exchange names! Isla, did you exchange names before getting his number?”
Isla smirked, lounging back with her drink. “Didn’t need to. They don’t need my name.”
“Aha! Rue loses! Drinks are on her tonight!”
Rue sighed, but laughed in defeat.
Their food arrived and the chatter turned to last night’s wild adventure. Isla, bold and quiet, always got whoever she wanted—but never kept them past morning. Rue, the attention-grabber, had brought a large man to his knees after a few drinks and the wrong comment. Reece worked her charm and curves to smooth everything over.
These were CeCe’s people. Her chosen family. Her chaos and her comfort.
She loved being their wingman, their voice of reason, their getaway car. CeCe laughed quietly to herself—despite the joke that Rue would pay for drinks, Reece would likely get them all free anyway.
It was an unspoken tradition. Bring an ID, twenty bucks, and a smile. That’s all it took.
In their thirties now, strong-willed and sharp-tongued, they were unstoppable.
As the laughter died down, CeCe leaned in. “So where are we heading tonight? I need to know what kind of hot mess to dress for.”
Reece lit up. “Isla found a new club. So—heels, leather, and chains.”
CeCe blinked. “Chains? What kind of club is this?”
Rue and Reece grinned as they looked to Isla.
Without even glancing up from her plate, Isla said dryly, “It’s The Kink Club.”
