by S. Valentine
“Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“What do we have to talk about?”
She flashed him a slow saccharine smile which didn’t reach her steely eyes. “Everything.” She barged past him. She indicated for him to follow her to the office. Darion’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long, low sigh. How important could it be? Knowing he wouldn’t get any peace otherwise, he rose to his feet and followed Eva.
As he unlocked the door to his office, she was standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume, and the minty gum that she must have previously been chewing. Stepping into the room, he flicked on the light, and dropped down onto the sofa. Eva towered over him in her black platforms. He waved his hand in the air, as if to give her permission to speak.
“What’s going on, Daz?”
“What do you mean?”
“The club.” She shook her head, an incredulous look on her face. “Is this all just one big party to you?”
He chewed his bottom lip, feeling his pulse speeding. She had some nerve.
“Okay.” She folded her arms across her chest. “For starters, the girls have got no respect at all for me. They’re obviously clueless in respect of their job roles, and what they get paid for,” she spat. “The website design is dated, not to mention that it states nothing whatsoever about the playrooms. I mean, how will we attract new customers?”
Darion rose to his feet, his nose only inches away from hers. “The playrooms are detailed on the website, with photographs, rules, and what the club offers,” he fired back. “But you have to register first. You’d know that if you looked properly.” His body brushed past her as he headed toward the mini bar.
“Well, that’s no good, Darion. We’re competing against other clubs. Some people haven’t got time to complete lengthy fucking registration forms.”
“It’s been fine until now.” He carefully selected a glass from the shelf and took hold of a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Well, what about the girls?” She approached him, glaring. “They don’t know what the heck is going on. One minute they’re twirling around a pole, and the next minute they’re pulling pints.”
Darion filled his glass, and then twisted the lid back on the bottle. “We like to shake things up around here.”
“Shake things up, or fuck things up?”
He remained silent. He didn’t need to explain himself to Eva. The girls liked interacting with the clients, and being behind the bar when they weren’t dancing. It saved them from sitting around bored stiff waiting to be called for a lap-dance. They got sick and tired of doing the same thing for hours on end, they liked a bit of variety.
“They could sue you, ya know,” she told him. “They could say you’re underpaying them. I mean, are they being paid to dance, or to bartend, or both?”
He took a large swig of his drink.
“I wanna see their contracts. They choose which job they want, and that’s it.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “What did you do to this place?”
“Careful, Eva.”
“Oh, and the cleaner is useless.” She shook her head. “You need to get a new one. Do you know I found a condom in the shower room?”
Darion felt his chest heaving. He pressed his lips together to regain control. He wasn’t having anyone badmouthing his employees. He had never known Rita to make mistakes in her job before. Ever. The whole place was usually immaculate. The laundry was always done on time, the clothes baskets and bins in the playrooms empty, the bathrooms stocked with soap, and tissues, the condom dispensers full, and she even went above and beyond by doing tasks that weren’t even in her job description. If she had missed something in the shower room, then she must have had an off day. It was life. Shit happened.
“The leaflet designs need sprucing up. The dressing room needs a good coat of paint. You say you love this club, and yet you’ve neglected it.”
I wonder whose fault that was, he thought bitterly. His nostrils flared at the way her gaze swept over him. As she continued to slate the club, he marched toward her. Gripping her tightly around the wrist, he yanked her toward the door.
“Get out. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She pulled her arm away.
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“These things need addressing. Work with me on it,” she yelled. “Please. I really could do with making some money, Daz, and I know you could too.”
He rubbed his hands up and down his face, inhaling a deep breath. More money certainly sounded appealing. He did need to pay off his vehicles. “Ten minutes, Eva.”
He crossed the room until he was before the desk. Pulling out the leather chair, he sat down, and indicated for her to do the same. They had once been business partners, and had made a decent profit. Personal issues aside, surely they could get the club booming again.
“So what do you have in mind?” he asked, picking up his drink again and taking a small sip.
Eva helped herself to bottled water from the fridge, and took up residence on the chair opposite him.
He hated the way she obviously felt at home in the club, that she was comfortable to swan around, barking orders, and helping herself to things. He cursed the day he ever allowed her to have joint ownership of the club. Oh well. You make your bed, you lie in it.
“I was thinking of hiring a web designer. I think it could do with a new look. We also need to implement the playrooms on the homepage. People should be able to browse before deciding whether to register, or even better, becoming a member.”
He leant back casually on his chair. “Fine. If you think it will improve business.”
“I also think we need to update the leaflets. Everything should be the same design.”
“Agreed.”
“We should pay for magazine advertisement space, like we used to do. Are the leaflets still being distributed to businesses in and around London?”
He nodded.
“Good.”
He ran a finger gently across his bottom lip, and then straightened his posture, leaning his elbows on the desk. “I’ve been meaning to renovate the club for a while.”
“Nothing too hasty, I hope. We need to bring in the money before we spend it.” She crossed her leg over the other causing her skirt to ride up, revealing the spiral of tattoos.
Darion averted his stare quickly. He’d almost forgotten what he was about to say. “I want every wall painted in black with a glittery sheen, including the dressing rooms,” he added, hoping it’d shut her up. Pulling open his drawer, he retrieved an interior design magazine. It was folded in half, displaying a bar he liked the look of. He dropped it on the desk and slid it toward her.
“Very glam.” She nodded, examining the image. “I like it. The colour scheme would look great with the chandeliers and the hundred mirrors throughout the place.”
“About the contracts,” he began. “Marnie, Lexi, and Wendy are my best dancers. They remain downstairs, dancing. If we need to hire a couple of barmaids, then so be it.”
“What about a replacement for Gina?”
He shook his head. “We’ve got more than enough dancers upstairs. We don’t need them there. People are more occupied with other things going on in the rooms.”
“Okay.”
“Rita is staying and that’s not negotiable,” he said firmly.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Whatever.”
“Anything else?” He wanted her out of the office so he could massage the crick out of his neck.
“Apart from me organising a masked themed night in the playrooms once a week…” She shook her head. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Good.” He linked his hands together. Smirking at her he said, “We’re done.”
He saw Eva’s shoulders droop in obvious disappointment. She groaned before lifting herself to her feet. Jamming her hands in the pockets of her skirt, she stood before the wall of photographs. “Wow.” She giggled. “We made some amazing memori
es, didn’t we?”
The wall was adorned with pictures of Darion fishing, skiing, skydiving, swimming with dolphins, and other adventures, not to mention the swingers’ resorts and parties he’d visited, surrounded by beautiful women. The photographs of Eva had been taken down the day she had betrayed him.
He felt a sick acidic feeling in his stomach as his mind recalled that torturous night. Vin, don’t stop. He inhaled a deep gust of air. Rising to his feet, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, all of a sudden feeling flustered.
“Yeah. They’re just that.” He stood behind her. “Memories.”
She swiveled around to face him. Her gaze lowered to his mouth for a moment. When her tongue darted out to moisten her full red lips, he swallowed to rid the lump that had lodged in his throat. He unfastened another button at his collar, feeling claustrophobic. The room was so quiet that if a pin dropped, it would be heard.
Eva lifted her hands, aiming for his face. He knew she was about to slide them past his cheeks and bury her long fingernails into his hair, like she used to do. She’d then roughly pull his face to hers and catch his lips with her teeth. She’d nibble at them first, naughtily, before diving her skilled tongue inside, where she’d twirl it around the tip of his, teasingly. She’d then take his whole tongue in her mouth and suck on it hard and fast like her life depended on it, kissing him like she owned him.
Catching both of her wrists tightly, he said in as menacing a tone as he could muster, “Eva. The meeting is over.”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Darion ran his hand over the smooth velvet of the red sofa. He inhaled the scent of the room. It smelt like a mixture of alcohol and sex. His jeans suddenly felt uncomfortably tight across the fly. Deep down in his core he felt a desperate need for release. He groaned inwardly. Everywhere he looked, he was filled with an erotic memory. Images flashed through his brain like the naughtiest porn movie he’d ever seen.
As he neared the private VIP booth, he recalled the time when he’d told Gabi about everything the club had to offer—beyond the actual black door were rooms consisting of swings, whips, toys, mirrored walls, dancer poles―the lot.
He remained rooted to the spot for a moment, enjoying the silence of the place. The club had closed half an hour ago. After his meeting with Eva, he’d lain on the sofa in his office, and before he knew it, he’d drifted into a deep sleep. Lexi and Marnie shouting goodbye to him had jolted him awake. Darion was no stranger to sleeping in his office. Before he had met Gabi, he had made quite a habit of it. The music and the sound of chatter and laughter from the bar seemed to help him nod off. The majority of the time it succeeded in preventing him from having any flashbacks of Eva.
Before ensuring the electrics were all switched off, and locking the place up, he had had a sudden urge to visit the playrooms. It had been a while. Now inside, he slowly made his way down the strip of red carpet. He passed the rope to come face to face with the black door. Next to it were rows of lockers and rules were pinned to the wall. He knew what they said off by heart.
No mobile phones. No cameras. No recording devices. No weapons of any kind. No smoking. No use of drugs or prostitution. You may bring your own toys. Lockers and use of showers are at no charge. Rules will be strictly enforced. Any violation of the rules will result in ejection from the club.
Privacy in the playrooms was paramount. It saw the likes of doctors, teachers, judges, celebrities, people who wouldn’t want their reputation tarnished in any way. Westhaven, being a small quiet place an hour away from the city, was convenient for many people. They could escape to The Black Door and not have to fear being recognised by anybody they knew.
Hooking his fingers around the gold handle, Darion pulled the door open and stepped inside. He felt his ego swell with achievement. His creation. He was like a kid in a candy store, his mouth watering at everything that was on offer. Every fantasy could be fulfilled. Home to the sexually adventurous and liberated, Darion had ensured that when finalising the rooms, they provided everything one could need to make their fantasies a reality. He had even hired girls to dress up and role-play with clients. If they wanted a kinky dominatrix, a sexy nurse, a naughty teacher, or whatever, then for a reasonable price, they got just that. It never went further than acting for them. Darion would never condone prostitution―ever.
He smiled to himself when he remembered the steamy sessions he had had with those girls. He had denied them for months, trying to keep things professional. It must have spurred the girls on even more, made them see him as a challenge, as they never tired of flirting with him. Just like he had warned Gabi that he was no good for them, to stay away, they had teased and seduced him until he had eventually caved in. It hadn’t been just the one who had wanted him, either. It had been all four of them. So like any hot blooded male, he went for it. Although it was well over a year ago, he could remember the orgy like it was yesterday. He had never felt so adored, so wanted, so secure in his entire life. The way those girls had looked at him with longing, and fussed over him like they couldn’t get enough of him had been as addicting as any other session in the playrooms. He couldn’t explain the rush he got from it. Being in a room where almost every single person wanted him was a huge help to his self-esteem, the years he had been neglected, refused love, ignored even in conversation. Darion would have been stupid not to have taken advantage of what was on offer. As far as he was concerned, what was the difference with a man bedding different women every single night, to a man who bedded perhaps the same amount of women in one weekend, at once? People could judge him, but they knew not his reasons.
Continuing to survey his surroundings; his eyes had to adjust to the dim red light. The left side of the room held areas, separated by walls, but the playrooms had no doors, specifically for voyeurs and exhibitionists, those that got off on others watching them, and by receiving attention. The rooms along the right-hand side were more private, consisting of doors, but with round glass windows. Nude but tasteful portraits hung along the walls of the corridor, and small condom dispensers were positioned outside every room.
Darion passed the first room on his right and peered in. The walls were mirrored, and a hot tub was in the centre, surrounded by black loungers. Another flashback presented itself of when Gabi had kissed another woman for the first time in that tub. Audrina. He wondered if she’d visited the club recently.
The room on his left contained a king-size bed, and a ceiling mirror. He continued to make his way down the corridor. Arousal fired in the pit of his stomach. He needed a fuck—desperately. He readjusted himself in his trousers, so he felt a little more comfortable.
Focusing his stare on another room, he leant toward the glass window. Huge red cushions were sprawled all over the floor, making it look like one big mattress, and again, the walls and ceiling were mirrored. That room was the best for a perfect orgy. Turning to a room on his left, a low groan escaped from his lips. The dungeon suite—one of his favourites. He took in the leather cuffs hanging from the ceiling, the leather swing, bed, rail of garments, and table holding whips, paddles, and toys. BDSM was amongst his top ten sexual desires. Although he had participated in a bit of soft bondage with Gabi, he was yet to introduce her to the hardcore stuff. A part of him really believed she’d like him taking charge.
The next room held a bed in the corner, a dancing pole near a mirrored wall, and a rack of outfits for men and women. Darion liked to see a woman in uniform or sexy lingerie. He sauntered inside, settling before the women’s outfits. His fingers skimmed over each one: schoolgirl, maid, army, police officer, and nurse outfits. Each outfit brought back special memories with several different women. He wondered what most of them were doing now. He hadn’t seen some of his past lovers for years. Perhaps they’d gotten married, had kids, settled for the vanilla lifestyle—more fool them. Or maybe they’d kept up their kinky activities in private.
He drew in a sharp breath as his fingertips felt the smooth material of the fin
al outfit, a PVC cat-suit. Eva had rocked this one perfectly, her breasts protruding over the zipper, complete with six inch thigh-high boots, and a whip in hand. He’d knelt naked at her mercy. She’d pleasured and tortured him simultaneously, and he’d had probably one of the most intense orgasms of his life. Then the roles had reversed, and she had hung from the ceiling whilst he’d dominated her. He scratched his head, turning his back on the outfit quickly.
He examined the glass cabinet full of brand new packaged toys, available for purchase. Again, he’d used all of those types of toys on Eva. Why not stimulate all of the erogenous zones?
Exiting the room, he tried to block everything out involving Eva. There was no point in reminiscing. He willed his heart to stop its frenetic pace. Throwing his head back, he closed his lids for a moment. Once he’d regained his composure, he continued on his tour.
The next room to his left wasn’t that kinky, allowing his excitement to decrease. A large king-size bed faced a wall-mounted television which always played an erotic movie. Candles and red roses adorned the shelves, creating an intimate romantic feel. Darion rarely ever went in that room—his romantic side had been ruined by Eva. Never would he be weak, too giving, too loving, and too open to a woman again.
Another room he entered had no glass window to peep in. A sign hung from the door stating ‘couples only.’ It was where most of the partner swapping took place. There were round gigantic beds in each of the four corners, which automatically rotated for great viewing pleasure. Two dancer poles occupied the middle of the area.
Stepping out, he didn’t bother visiting the last rooms. One was a shower room with hot-tub area, and the other used to be a room for complete privacy. Even to this day it pained him to enter that room, so he avoided it as much as he could. It had been the ultimate private room for the swingers—no disturbances or interruptions, the ability to do as they pleased. Ever since Eva had locked herself in it with Vinnie whilst he fucked her behind Darion’s back, without agreement beforehand, he’d changed it into a dressing room. The sign above the door stated:
