I nod, still not sure what to say. All this is so out of my element.
“I take you have come here to seek employment, Ms. Caughlin.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Women come to me with the belief they will start immediately, go on dates and the money will start pouring in. That is not the way it works.”
Shit. That is exactly what I thought.
“All of my employee’s go through a two weeks of training before I send them out.”
“Two weeks?” The muscles in my back tighten and I grip my skirt. “I don’t have two weeks.”
Madam raises a groomed eyebrow. “You are a lovely young woman Ms. Caughlin, but you do require some tidying up.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Grooming, both in your appearance and we would need to smooth out your rather abrasive nature.” That smooth grin plays on her lips. “I take care of my girls. You will be cleaned up, dressed appropriately and during the two-week training period, we will determine your best attributes and how to apply them to appeal to men.”
“Train me on how to put on a show,” I say dryly.
“Precisely.”
I sag back in the sofa. This isn’t going to work. I don’t have two weeks and besides, my actual job starts in two weeks. I was hoping to get this over with, and get the money mom needs, and continue with my big plans for rescuing myself from this hellish life.
“I see you are dismayed at the idea of waiting for income.” Madam pulls a manila file out and scans its contents. “How much money do you need, and how quickly?”
I blink. This woman is very perceptive. “I have one week to come up with another twenty-two thousand dollars.”
Madam looks at the file again. “I take it this is not your debt. There is nothing here which states you have a drug or gambling problem. You have a decent education. Would this debt belong to—” she glances down, “Carrie Caughlin, your mother, who is employed by a Mr. Benny?”
“What the hell are you looking at?” I ask and shoot up from the sofa. “What do you have in that file?”
“A short history, Ms. Caughlin.” Madam points for me to sit again. “I only had an hour and a half, so a complete bio I have yet to obtain.”
“How did you get all that?” I ask.
“I have friends. We exchange favors.” The smile is a bit condescending this time. “Now, sit down, I may be able to help you.”
I sink back in the sofa. I’d be smart to take off and never come back. This woman obviously has powerful connections, but I’m here and I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do. “How can you help?”
“Have you heard of Madam Jolie’s Playroom?”
“No.”
“It is an exclusive club for those who have particular tastes. As with my escort service, I do an extensive background check, including looking into personal lives to make sure no one is hiding a marriage, drug, or alcohol problem. I don’t like cheaters. And we don’t tolerate substance abuse. All my members are high profile and grant my wishes, along with high fees and in turn they get my silence.”
“What kind of tastes?”
“Sexual.”
And here it is. I knew just platonic dates wasn’t the entire story.
“The girls who hold shares in the club, come here to learn and then partake with the men and women who join our organization.” Madam digs in her desk drawer and pulls out a card. “Come by the club tomorrow evening and I’ll show you around.”
“What kind of club is this?”
“A fetish club,” she says. “But don’t worry. I don’t allow any violent acts. Well, no damaging blows and all my girls are given a private room for their partners unless they are exhibitionist.”
“I’m not into weird stuff, Madam Jolie,” I tell her.
“Have you experimented?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then how do you know?”
I don’t. “Isn’t paying someone to work in a fetish place in exchange for performing sexual acts similar to prostitution? I mean, guys go and pay for sex.”
“No. Only a very select few pay for a membership to the club. The women in the club choose what acts they perform, and who with. They don’t get paid for their services, Ms. Caughlin, they become shareholders.”
“So that’s how you get around the whole prostitution part.”
Madam leans back in her chair. “Prostitution is a dirty word. I don’t like it. Women throughout time have used sex as a means of securing their future. Fathers collected dowry’s for their daughters, women have agreed to marriage, exchanging basically sex and providing children so they are taken care of.”
“You sound like you’re justifying.”
“Maybe I am,” Madam says. “Maybe I’m merely taking advantage of an already corrupt world and giving the power back where it should be. In the hands of women who own their bodies and their sexuality. Why not give them a place to explore where they will be safe, and while they are at it, gain financial security? Besides, Ms. Caughlin, our members are very high profile and pay quite a bit for our silence. They expect a high standard club with owners and other members who share these interests.”
I shake my head and again stand, but this time to leave. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not right for this.”
“Not right or unwilling to learn?”
That gets under my skin. I’ve worked too hard for someone to judge me as lazy or unwilling. “I’m not going to have sex for money.”
Madam nods. “I’m not asking you to. Many of these acts don’t require sex though it can be a part of the experience. You did say, twenty-two thousand by next Friday?”
I pause at the door and turn back to face her. “Yes.”
“What if I said I can almost guarantee you will earn that money in my club.”
“In one week?”
“Shares are paid on a monthly basis, but, I have a good feeling about you.”
I shake my head. “I’m not able to work in your club, Madam. I’m not qualified.”
“You have an excellent body though it’s hidden under cheap clothes, a beautiful face, a vagina, and breasts. I’d say you are very qualified.”
“No.” I sigh and sag into the door. “I mean sexually.”
“You will be trained Ms. Caughlin. That is where you do not understand. I have exclusive members who enjoy—prefer to teach new shareholders and they pay an extra fee and provide their new subs with the equipment and toys they will need. I have a feeling the Four would like you very much.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t, like physically, can’t.”
Madam’s eyebrows knit and she looks to the file she has my life in. “I saw nothing indicating you are unable to perform. From what I understand you have a clean bill of health though I’ll have to have you screened, of course.”
“I just can’t,” I say.
“Tell you what.” Madam rises from her seat and walks towards me. “Come by the club tomorrow evening, and I’ll show you around. You will see what we have to offer and I have a feeling you will like what you see.”
I nod because now I’m addicted to nodding, “We’ll see.”
“Don’t disappoint me by not showing, Ms. Caughlin—Jess, may I call you Jess?”
I take her outstretched hand and nod again. “Yes, Madam.”
“Jess, I have a radar for detecting good people and see great strength in you,” she says. “Promise me you’ll come to the club tomorrow. That’s all I ask.”
I’m probably going to regret this. “Alright. I’ll just look around.”
Chapter 4
When I was in high school, most teenagers had stories of sneaking out—then back in. I never had this problem. It would have been amazing if my mother had ever asked where I was going or where I was coming from. Granted, now I’m an adult and she doesn’t have to anymore, but a smidgen of concern would have been nice. Hell, I think the only time she
ever seemed concerned about anything other than where her next fix was coming from, was in that brief and full of false hope time when my mother attempted sobriety.
Back at the dingy trailer, moms moved into her bedroom, but I don’t hear noises. Her face must have kept her home this evening. The types of scum who go to Benny’s don’t care about a few bruises or track marks. But they get uncomfortable—the semi-decent ones anyway—if their strippers look like they’ve just fallen off the back of a meat truck.
In my room, I flop on my bed and flip my laptop open. The very first search result for what is a fetish club? is a Wiki with the answer. Including links to explicit descriptions of the acts often found in these locations.
BDSM.
Nope. Not for me.
I scroll through the pages—staying safely on the very PG-13 explanation of what exactly this is, and what is expected—my mouth open and gasping the further I go. Madam Jolie has invited me to tour, not just a sex fetish club, but from the looks of it, a dungeon. Why in the name of anything sacred would this woman think I’d like this and why in the name of anything else did this Lena think I would?
My first instinct is to call Gin, but then I put my phone down. She would flip and not just flip, she’d go nuts ‘over the edge, aerobics flip the fuck out’. That and she’d try to go with me tomorrow. Sheesh no, thank you. Some things I don’t want to see, even with my BFF.
Or, maybe I should bring a friend—or at least tell her in case some guy sees me then follows me home and steals me to lock in his sex cage. If I tell her, she’ll know where to point police if I go missing.
That isn’t fair of me. Madam was well put together and not at all anything like the stereotype in my head. She was polite and actually very professional. She also said the people who are members are high profile. My God. I wonder if it’s the mayor, no she said she doesn’t allow married people unless maybe his wife is into it. Jeez.
I slam the laptop closed. I’ve read enough of the terminology and gathered enough information for me to grasp what she does. There are Dom’s and Domme’s who have subs who then allow their Dom’s to perform varies acts. I stopped reading at the blindfolding and whipping. I don’t do blindfolds, too many unpleasant memories I’ve tried to keep hidden, and whipping has never made it into my little bathtub fantasies.
Finally, I give in and call Ginny. It’s late, past one in the morning, but I’m not sleeping anytime soon, and I doubt she will be either.
She answers on the first ring. “Well?” she hollers. I pull the phone away from my ear. “What took so long?”
“It is a dating service,” I tell her. “Just like the site says, but no outright sex and it takes two weeks before you can start making money.”
“Damn it.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Do you think that woman heard us talking about the money your mom owes?”
I nod like she can see me. “Yeah, I do. The Madam says she has girls keep any eye out for women who need help.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Gin asks. “Did you just call her the Madam?”
“That’s her name.”
“And ‘her girls’? Madam sounds like a pimp.”
I roll my eyes. “She was very nice.”
“Most psychopaths appear that way, Jess.”
Well, my friend just made it official. There is no way I can tell her about the club. She’d freak and forbid me from going.
“Well, we’ll figure something else out,” Gin sighs.
My problems are her problems, Ginny tells me. She’s the only person on the planet who cares enough to absorb my issues as her own, and this is why she has been my best friend since we met skipping gym class in high school. We hid under the bleachers and talked for the rest of the school day and just clicked. Her mom is a complete nut, but of the health-food, yoga, seaweed chips eating kind, and her dad is a drunk. We bonded over horror stories and our poor little messed up minds found their soul mates. Besides the obvious differences, my Gin is a complete slut, and proud of it, meaning she holds no shame in having slept with almost twenty men and really, why should she? Men are practicality heroes has and expected to be this way. Why the fuck can’t my Gin?
“By the way, I got the job.” Her scream pierces through the line and I almost drop my phone. I give her a minute and when she quiets down, I continue. “Mr. Liam Firth says he’s going to train me personally.”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” she drawls out. “Is he as steamy hot in person, as he is in his pictures?”
“Better.” My giggle is fresh out of high school. “He’s stunning, really, but a bit weird.”
I tell her about the desk and the interview and she chortles at my luck. By the time I get off the phone, my skin is buzzing with excitement, just thinking of my new job. And, yeah of my new boss. He was definitely checking me out, all six-foot something with his gold eyes sliding over my body.
This is going to be hard to work around—a hotter than hell boss with roaming eyes. But then again, if I don’t get the money by Friday, it won’t be a problem.
Because I’ll be dead.
Chapter 5
Day Six
I think I may have lost my mind because I now stand outside of Madam Jolie’s Playroom. A huge industrial looking building on the outskirts of town. Last night I barely got any sleep. Then I woke and somehow made it through work, all the while telling myself I was never going to come here. Apparently, I’m a liar since that’s exactly where I’ve ended up.
Really, it should be my mom standing outside a sex club—I mean that's her specialty. She’s the one who should be sweating bullets over this lapse of good judgment. Honestly, I think part of it is, I’m curious. It’s my nature. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
What drove me here—even after I told myself I wasn’t going to go—is I’m out of options. This morning mom’s face looked like she painted it with blue and black ink. This is her debt, but if I leave it up to her, we’ll both end up chopped up and fed to the fishes. I have plans, and being murdered over a measly twenty-two thousand dollars really hinders them.
I muster up every last shred of courage and check my common sense at the door. This slips over everything I told myself I wouldn't do in life, rips apart all the rules I wrote and the boundaries I had placed. In order to not become my mother, my number one rule was to never do anything that compromised my moral grounds. Like having sex in exchange for—anything. I barely drink and haven’t touched drugs. Yet, here I am, contemplating breaking the most important rule of all. Selling myself out.
I shove the heavy red door and it closes behind me with a solid whack. Inside a dim light filters out from behind vintage red wall sconces, casting scarlet tinted shadows on the room. I expected to walk into a deviant club full of naked people performing lewd acts, but I’m confronted with a pretty woman in a red suit and an old wooden desk. Not what I was expecting.
“Hello.” The woman smiles, showing her straight white teeth. “You must be Jess. Madam said to expect you.” She comes from behind her desk and I’m able to see her entire outfit or lack thereof. The receptionist wears a suit jacket with a red corset underneath and no pants, only a red g-string, and black fishnet stockings. Contrasting with her pale skin. Tall stilettos’ complete her ensemble and give her a few inches on me.
I’m a bit taken back, trying not to look at her ass as she slides around the desk to shake my hand. “I hope I’m not late.”
“Not at all.” Receptionist smiles again, but this time it looks forced, and directs me to a leather-covered door at the back of the foyer. “Madam has been busy getting the club ready for tonight. She’ll be delighted you are here.”
“What happens tonight?”
“We have a few members who like to come and train new subs. We have a few newbies who just arrived, and the club members choose who they would like to train.” She smiles as she talks and guides me into an enormous room. “On nights we have new girls, we open the d
ollhouse and members get to bid for who they want.”
“Bid?”
“Like an auction,” she grins. “All proceeds go to the new girls training and buying her the attire, equipment required and so on. Basically, it’s like being sponsored.”
Jesus. I try to digest this and glance around the large room. Inside the club is decorated much like Madam’s office—all black floor to ceiling. It doesn’t have the industrial look like the outside of the warehouse. Instead, it is decorated very chic. Burlesque chic if that’s a style. Vintage lounge chairs and black shag carpeting. There are scarlet accents around—little silk pillows and a few damask fabric chairs. The entire space is very tastefully decorated, and besides a stage and a small bar at the back of the open room, there are no fetish devices around. It’s all very tame, and mildly disappointing.
I had envisioned chains hanging from ceilings and people strung up moaning in carnal pleasure, but the place is empty except for the receptionist and me.
“The club doesn’t open until later,” Receptionist says, reading my expression. “Things liven up a bit, but we have only a few regulars who attend. Mostly the people who join our club have a particular kink, which requires an individual skill and they ask in advance for a certain owner to play scenes. So they are selective and spend most of their visits in the private rooms.”
I nod as if I understand, but really, I don’t. I might as well have stepped on to Mars.
“Jess!” Madam’s smooth voice calls from behind us. I turn and see her gliding towards me. The woman with no pants leaves. This evening, Madam’s dressed in a red pantsuit—with the pants, and she oozes authoritative grace and style. “I’m so glad you decided to come tour the club this evening.”
Madam offers her cheek and I kiss them both like she’s the Don. “Thank you for inviting me.”
The uncertainty and hesitation coloring my voice makes her grin. “No need to worry, dear,” she says. “I have a feeling once you see what this club is about, you’ll be excited to join us.”
Seven Days - The Beginning (Jess & Liam's Story, #1) Page 3
