Blooming Rose part 1 - The Hostess (free preview) (Patreon)

Here is a free preview of a couple images from the story in case anybody stumbles upon this with a Google search and wonders what this is all about.

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You followed through on that tip you received a while back. Turning on your phone and checking your notes, you confirmed again that you were in the right place. You looked at the building’s façade – brightly lit and glowing with a playful, joyful shine just like the other buildings in this part of the city. But there was no signage, nothing to tell you what the heavy (and heavily guarded) door led to inside.

You read the description from your phone one more time. Yes, everything matched up. You approached the large pair of bouncers and gulped slightly.

“Good evening,” one of them said, nodding at you.

“Hello. Um… Is there a flower shop nearby?” you asked, with a slight quaver in your voice as you recited the first part of the entry phrase also mentioned in the tip you received.

“I think there’s a place that sells roses down the street,” the bouncer replied.

“No, roses make me sneeze,” you answered back.

Both bouncers looked at you for a long moment from behind their black shades, and then glanced around them to see if there were any onlookers. “I think you might be able to find something inside. Please,” one of them offered as he opened the heavy window-less door. As it swung open you began to hear the faint thump and thud of music and you also began to detect the fragrance of flowers and perfume.

“Thank you,” you said before sauntering in with a grin, trying to contain your glee and excitement. You made it! The Blooming Rose! It was a real place and you found it! You felt ready to burst with anticipation.

Then you saw the line. Sighing quietly as your heart sank, you filed into the line of patrons to await your turn at entry. You noticed how everyone was dressed so finely. While not too shabby yourself, you wished you had known better. The line wasn’t long, perhaps 8, perhaps 10 people ahead of you. At the front of the line stood a large counter equipped with a small, elegant lamp and a vase of bright, fresh flowers, many of them roses. In fact, by squinting slightly you were able to see a little into the darkness around the corner, noticing more vases, flowers, and the shapes of people moving about.

Behind the counter stood a hostess. You observed her as she welcomed guests and checked for their names and notes on her computer. The counter partially obscured her figure, but you were still able to admire her delicately lean figure from the waist up. She wore a fine, form-fitting red dress with only subtle ornamentation, though her wrists, neck and ears were decorated with thin hoops of yellow gold. Her long, flowing red hair rested in loose curls atop her shoulders, beginning to blend into her dress, almost as if she were clothed in nothing but her own hair.

“Thank you sir, please enjoy,” you heard her say with a pretty Irish accent as she waved the guest at the front of the line inside. Another girl led him around the corner and into the darkness of the club. As you and the rest of the line shuffled forward, you saw the hostess bring a white handkerchief to her nose. “kkiiscchff!-chhiffh!-hhee-iiscchhffh!!... iiIIIHHIISSCHHfffh!!” she sneezed rapidly into the cloth. As she brought her hand back down to her computer screen, you saw her scrunch and wiggle her freckled nose. It too was red, like her hair and her dress, almost seemingly by design. “ugghhh…” she sighed before sniffling wetly and wiping her nose again with her handkerchief. “Good evening,” she greeted the next guest courteously and with a bright smile.

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