by Vi Keeland
Tears of Crimson Publishing
[email protected]
www.tearsofcrimson.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Chapter One
Interview
“Stop fidgeting, Zoey. You look great, and Mr. Harold isn’t ‘that’ bad.”
I tugged at the hem of the short leather mini-skirt again, subconsciously hoping it would magically grow a few inches in length if I continued pulling. “This is the same man that threated to fire your ass on the spot for playing with a customer.” I refused to mention that she’d given vivid detail about laying over said customer’s knee while he spanked her.
“I was on the clock and left the bar unattended. Unless you plan on getting a little action you’ll be fine.” Rachel grinned wickedly and waggled her eyebrows. “I’d actually pay to see you let go that way.”
I shivered unintentionally at that thought. All I wanted was a paycheck and since jobs were getting harder to come by these days, this was a position I needed as much I would hate getting. For not the first time this month I regretted not filing sexual harassment charges against my last boss since he was the reason I was currently unemployed.
“Let’s get this over with before I remember all the reasons I’m an idiot for allowing you to set up this interview.” I’d applied for at least twelve other jobs in the last four weeks at different law firms but my ex-boss had sabotaged each interview. The little prick had told me in no uncertain terms I’d have to crawl back to him if I planned on working in this city again. If it hadn’t been for Rachel I probably would have because my bank account was running dangerously low of funds.
“Just remember to address him as sir, be respectful and you’ll have no problems. I think you’re just meeting him today, but the same rule goes for the other partners.”
Grabbing my clutch purse off the island bar I felt my stomach clench. If you lived in New York you’d at least heard about the owners of Fantasy’s Bar and Grill. They were known as the billionaire bad boys, or so the local papers labeled them, and for good reason. Each owner was a notorious billionaire playboy and they all had stories that the paparazzi loved breaking to juice up the headlines.
I followed Rachel to the elevator and continued to tell myself that I could handle this job. Even my normally loud mouth friend wouldn’t tell me what really went on behind closed doors, but unless they were somehow breaking the law I’d find a way to deal with whatever they threw at me. Knowing I’d have to sign a contract to keep whatever happened at the bar confidential, if I was hired, only made me more curious about what type of establishment I was walking into.
Rachel waved down a cab when we made it outside and I felt my nerves run full throttle as we drove toward Fantasy’s. The city was full of life as rush hour closed in and I let the insanity surrounding me consume my thoughts so I didn’t overthink this interview. Worst case scenario is I don’t get the job. I’m not qualified to be a waitress so at least if I fail at this it’s of my own doing and not because I refused to sleep with my boss.
Two years of paralegal training down the drain. You’d think lawyers would have ethics and not be swayed by a sleazy little weasels word, but if I’ve learned anything it’s that money is power, and since I’m basically broke I’m the one left to suffer. We pull up to the building and I gasp.
Fantasy’s is housed in a majestic brick building that boasts at least five stories. Logically I know they are just renting space here but it made the bar look more impressive to be surrounded by all the extra room. Stepping out of the cab, I pull down on the irritating skirt hoping my ass isn’t hanging out. It was Rachel’s idea that I wear the most revealing outfit in her closet, and I’m hoping her intuition is right. At the moment I feel like a high-priced call girl.
Following her through the rotating glass door, I notice she enters a code on the next door we reach. It’s a little ironic that such a security measure is taken at a bar, but I don’t comment on it. All I can concentrate on is not busting my ass in the four inch heels that Rachel encouraged me to wear. Since I’m only five feet tall they give me a little more confidence except I’m not very steady on my feet walking in stilts.
“Just remember what I said. Make sure you call him sir and be polite.” Why does she seem nervous all of a sudden? Just when I have my breathing back on an even keel she’s got me worried.
At first glance, Fantasy’s looks like every other upscale club in the city. Rachel has taken me to so many I know this for fact. The floor is a polished hardwood that matches the bar, and dark burgundy. Rounded booths accompanied by two small tables each in the center line the walls. It’s almost cozy and I’d expected something much larger.
Rachel walks behind the bar and picks up a phone. “I have Zoey with me, where would you like me to bring her, Sir?” I watch as she nods and hangs up the receiver. “We’re going to the offices.”
I glance around as I follow her lead toward the back and take in a few more of the amenities. Swiveled bar stools with high backs, shimmering wine glasses hanging from an overhead rack, it really is tasteful as far as a bar goes. We continue walking through a door and I’m taken down a long hall. A set of elevators meets my eyes and she pushes a button.
Maybe I’d been wrong about my assumption that they rented space in the building. After going up to the top floor, I’m almost certain I had. We walk out onto the floor and it’s plain to see this is office space. A large greeting desk is unmanned and Rachel walks around it. I can tell she’s been up here many times before by the ease in which she navigates us to the back. She knocks on a set of double doors and a deep masculine voice encourages us to enter.
We’re in a boardroom and I discover quickly I’m not meeting with just one of the owners but all of them. I know each of them by name, like I said they are pretty notorious in the papers. “Ms. Summers, please take a seat, Rachel you can wait outside.”
I don’t want her to leave and that’s not like me because I’ve always stood on my own two feet. Being in the presence of these four enigmatic men makes me extremely nervous though. It doesn’t help that they all look like they stepped off the cover of GQ. I give her the look of panic I feel but she still follows his command.
“You can relax Ms. Summers, we don’t normally attack potential employees during an interview.” Samson Harold is chuckling deeply and I find that sound goes straight to my sex. I’m amazed I make it to the chair at the end of the long desk since my legs start to tremble.
Trying to keep my head in the game I force myself to meet his dark grey eyes. “That’s a relief, I’ve already lost one job over something similar.” I honestly didn’t mean to let that spill out of my mouth. One of my bad habits was to say exactly what I felt and it landed me in trouble more than once. Owning my mistake I took a deep breath thinking this interview couldn’t start off in a worse way.
I wasn’t expecting the smiles that were forwarded my way by such gorgeous men. It was my opinion that even today, men didn’t appreciate a woman who truly spoke her mind, no matter what year we were living in.
“We’ve heard about your troubles with Baxter Kingston, the third.” This came from Miles Dresdon, the man Forbes had dubbed the redheaded wonder of Wall Street. It was rumored that his Irish heritage had bought him a ticket into financial stardom since his father owned a seat on the New York Stock exchange.
“Perhaps we should wipe that off the table first thing.” Leon Alexander was the son of fashion model, Ella Alexander, who still at sixty was sought after for her expertise in the industry. “Why don’t you tell us what happened to cause your unemployment.”
I knew this was coming, but I still hated recanting the history. “It’s pretty simple re
ally, Baxter wanted to have sex and I told him to go stick it up his own… um backside.” Just remembering the grief that slimly little toad caused me, pissed in my cornflakes.
“So he fired you?” Leif Barret, a.k.a the sexy boy wonder of real estate, seemed to find the story comical since he was biting back a laugh.
“Actually not the first time. When he corned me in his office and tried to ‘persuade’ me to give in, I kicked him in the balls and broke his nose. Then he fired me.” I was really not making a good impression. With a deep sigh I sat back in my chair. “Just so you know I don’t normally go around doing that.” My anger at recalling that scenario deflated and left me discouraged. I seriously needed to learn to gain a mouth filter.
“I’m curious. Why didn’t you file charges against him?” Lifting my eyes to Samson’s gorgeous face I tried to reign in the first words that came to mind, which weren’t very respectful.
“I liked Deidre,” that was Baxter’s wife, “as much as I wanted to bring the little worm to his knees I knew it would hurt her.” Call me a sentimental fool, but hurting a woman with four children over something like that wouldn’t allow me to sleep well at night.
“I admire your restraint, but I assume that’s not paying your bills. You’ve got a degree in paralegal studies, why aren’t you searching for a career that better suits your skills?” Miles’s emerald green eyes were searching my face and he looked like he wanted to laugh. I wasn’t sure if that made me like or want to smack him. Nothing about this situation was funny to me.
“Believe me I’ve tried. Baxter has spread rumors to every employer I’ve attempted to hire on with that I was a prick tease and was just looking to blackmail my way up the corporate ladder.” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that entered my tone. I really wanted to kick the little weasel in the balls again for the lies he told.
“I think we’ve heard enough.” Samson stood up to his impressive six foot height and walked toward me. I admit the man was walking sex personified, and yeah it did funny things to my insides. “We completed an intensive background check when Rachel suggested you to our company and I believe you’re telling the truth. Be that as it may, I won’t be offering you the job as a waitress.”
I hoped the disappointment I felt didn’t show on my face as I attempted a smile. Trying to put on a professional facade, I stood and offered my hand. “I thank you for your time.” It was unfair, but life was rarely fair. I refused to let my dignity unravel before I left his room.
Samson took my hand in his much larger one and I swear I felt a bolt of electricity in his warm grasp. “I’m afraid you misunderstood.” He smiled warmly and I took in a deep breath as the twinge of desire shot through my body. “Your talents would be wasted in such a position, and I believe we have one that can put your skills to better use.”
He was still holding my hand and I got lost in those dark eyes of his. I couldn’t force myself to utter a word as I simply stared at him. “Before I can describe the job in more detail, I’ll need to assure that what we discuss doesn’t leave this office.” Finally he released my hand and walked back to the head of table, picking up a folder.
“You’ll need to read through this and decide if you’re willing to sign before we go any further.” He placed the manila folder in front of me and I noticed the other men standing up. “We’ll give you some time.”
Without any further communication the men filed out of the room leaving me alone. Opening up the folder I stared down at the contract. Rachel had already informed me that all employees signed a confidentiality agreement before being hired so I expected this, but what I didn’t know was exactly what type of position was being offered.
The form was pretty standard and I’d seen several of these cross my desk in the law office. Usually these were reserved for companies that had product and/or trade secrets, or software startups wanting protection from hackers or competition. Why a bar and grill would feel the need to possess one was a little confusing. I decided I would learn soon enough and after scouring through each line, I signed. Standing up, I walked to the doors where the men had departed and opened it.
Samson and Rachel were the only two people waiting and they seemed deep in conversation. I didn’t want to be rude, but now that I had signed his agreement my curiosity was getting the best of me. “Excuse me Sir, but I’m finished.” It was the first time since the interview began that I remembered to call him sir.
He held out his hand for the document and I handed it over. Watching him thumb through to the signature page I admit I was growing impatient to know why such secrecy was needed. “Rachel you can join us if you’d like.” Samson walked back into the room and we both followed.
He motioned to the chair I’d sat in earlier, so I sat. Rachel sat down on my left and Samson on the right. “What I would like to offer you is the position of our paralegal here. I have an attorney on the payroll, but as I’m sure you’re aware keeping him on staff full time would be costly, and you’re services in this area would be just as effective.”
He continued to talk, advising me of a generous salary and the benefits that went along with the position and I was admittedly stunned. The salary more than doubled what Baxter had paid and for the first time in a month I allowed myself to hope that I might come out from under the dark cloud he’d left over my life.
“Obviously I’m interested, but it might help if I knew exactly what I’ll be doing for your company?” Interested was a light word, I was ready to flip cartwheels knowing that with this income I could actually afford to take night classes in law. It had always been my intention to become a lawyer.
“At Fantasy’s we offer something besides the socializing opportunities afforded to a bar. We deal in pleasure, Ms. Summers. Our clients are chosen by interview and only a select few can afford the services we provide.”
The first red flag went up at his words and immediately I assumed prostitution. “Is what you’re doing here legal?” Please let it be legal, I thought to myself. I really needed this job but my obvious feeling was there would be no need for confidentiality if the services provided were accepted under the law.
“I can see by the look on your face what you’re thinking, Ms. Summer. But you’re wrong. What we offer at Fantasy’s is perfectly legal and no we’re not pimps.” Samson chuckled warmly and I was hit with an overwhelming sense of desire that shocked me to my core.
“Then perhaps you’d explain what it is you do offer?” Dear lord, I wanted to find out if those full lips felt as good as they looked speaking. My libido was definitely out of control, a first for me. Rachel was sitting in the chair being as quiet as I’d ever seen her. Obviously she felt a little uncomfortable in his presence.
“While we do offer a version of sexual fantasy, the people that pay for our services don’t pay for sex.” His beautiful lips lifted in a smirk. “Of course if our clients decide to take it further, that’s at their discretion and we can’t be held accountable for those actions.”
This was throwing up another red flag. The call girl services in town were able to fly under the radar by calling themselves a dating industry, but everyone knew what really happened behind closed doors. “Perhaps you’d explain the sexual fantasies you offer.” Before I got up and walked out that door hating myself for turning down such a great financial opportunity.
“To put it bluntly, whatever fantasy the client chooses. Bondage or sadomasochism, playing out roles from a romance novel, cowboys, Harem scenes, you name it and we bring their desires to life. We have decorators that arrange the scene rooms, and I guess you could call them actors or actresses that help them live out the fantasy.”
Definitely not what I’d been expecting and honestly I was intrigued. “So you’re saying these fantasies don’t have to contain sex? It sounds like every one of those could end up being sexual in nature.” It actually sounded like something I wouldn’t mind trying for myself and didn’t that make me a hypocrite? Without the sex of course, but I could see myself payin
g to act out a scene where I got to berate my ex-boss for being the backstabbing little weasel he was.
“What I’m saying is we bring fantasies to life in whatever capacity our clients ask for, but it’s not always about sexual pleasure. For instance, a recent scene was nothing more than a customer being treated like an infant while our actress mothered him. People all have different needs, Ms. Summers, at Fantasy’s we offer them the opportunity to live them out. You’d be surprised how many older women just want to have some handsome young man pamper them with a day spa scenario while telling them how attractive they still are.”
“So why do you need me?” I was having a hard time understanding how a paralegal could help in the creation of developing a fantasy role-play scenario.
“Actually your job will be very important. Each of our clients have certain expectations from what they want in a scene. We’ve discovered that having all those needs addressed in a contract beforehand makes things run more smoothly. I will say up front that this won’t be like contracts you’ve helped prepare for clients in the past. Since there is a form of sexuality involved, each action needs to be addressed before things move forward so we don’t inadvertently cross a line that would make our customers regret their decision.”
“I’m curious, how much does a client pay for this service?” It really was none of my business but I was truly interested. I told myself not for personal reasons, but the scene with the ex-boss did come to mind.
“It’s a flat fee of ten thousand dollars and then the yearly membership fee. Since we cater to a specific crowd a donation of twenty thousand a year covers our operational needs.”
I almost fell out of my chair at the amount. “That explains how you can afford my salary.” Holy shit that was a lot of money! My mouth gaped open and I hurriedly closed it.
