Club Alpha: BDSM Romance Boxed Set

by Amy Valenti

  He couldn’t have been much older than thirty, and the host’s only son. He and his father were the ones I had to make an impression on, but I could barely talk around him.

  He seemed unbothered by my nerves, though, as he plucked a shrimp from my tray and placed it in a napkin. He gave me a soft smile that made my body grow warm, casually looking over my face before returning to his conversation.

  ”There’s no way they’re going to be able to make it past the second quarter and still show profits,” Logan protested, gesticulating with his shrimp. His suit fit him so well and the slick, charcoal jacket lay slung over his broad shoulders. “Hell, if they make even half what they did last quarter I’d be shocked.”

  “Well that’s what happens when you don’t listen to your investors,” the other man protested, looking up at her with some confusion. Did he think she shouldn’t be standing there? Had she lingered too long?

  “But it’s not just that,” Logan protested. “They ignored the investors, and they ignored the market.”

  I narrowed my eyes slightly, opening my mouth to say something before snapping it shut and briskly walking away. No one wants to hear your sophomoric ideas of marketing, I chided myself, but it was hard to keep my mouth shut.

  This wasn’t me. This naked, lithe little thing in the slutty attire wasn’t me. I had dreams, hopes, aspirations, and they were quickly being put on hold to care of my father. My mother pleaded with me to finish out the semester so that the student loans wouldn’t be in vain, but it was hard to get through it all.

  I felt so uncomfortable I could scream until I remembered that it was five hundred dollars for a night’s work. That was more than I’d even imagined for a job, and just to give up my Thursday evening.

  Just think of the money, Rachael, I reminded myself, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

  Samantha gave me another look that was part concern, part annoyance, and I plastered on a phony smile as I walked around the room, offering all of these rich men shrimp. It was degrading. Not even so much being dressed up like this, like some coquettish tramp.

  No, I could handle that.

  I just couldn’t handle how they were all ignoring me. As if having me dress up like a slut was just something meant to humiliate me rather than titillate them. I could have been wearing a clown suit and they’d pay me more mind. All except Logan and his wicked smile.

  Wasn’t that weird? That they’d have some of the sexiest women in the city, paid half a grand for an evening of work, and not even look at them? I couldn’t even pretend to understand, but I guess that kind of money is like peanuts for them. We were just like the elaborate globe that sat in the corner of the den – a pretty thing meant to be appreciated for a moment, but more as an example of the owner’s fine taste and ostentatious spending.

  By the time midnight came around my knees were aching, and I couldn’t even muster up the ability to be embarrassed any longer at this ridiculous farce of a party. They’d switched us from shrimp to simply standing, waiting if they needed a refill of their drinks. I moved back into the den with all its mahogany and furniture that I was sure dated back to the 17th century. It didn’t look very comfortable, but then, nothing about this was meant to be comfortable.

  My eyes trailed again to Logan as I stood idly by the elaborate fireplace.

  He was probably the most relaxed person in the room, though maybe that was just his youthfulness. His eyes held a certain spark that those others didn’t, and I finally had a moment to appreciate that. He wasn’t just talking business with these men. He was talking passionately about it.

  I felt my lips quirk into a sort of semi-smile, but I quickly tried to hide it. Not that it mattered anyway – there wasn’t anyone paying attention to me and my silly little infatuation. But the longer I stared, unnoticed by all, the more I realized just how attracted to him I was. His strong hands gesticulated in the air, his actions subtle yet powerful in their own right.

  It was fascinating to me. He commanded the room, despite his youth, despite the fact that his father – Richard – was just behind him talking to another business associate. But no one could capture me like Logan.

  I noticed one or two of the other woman looking to him as well, and I wondered if they were hoping to earn some more cash after hours. Wasn’t that how these things worked? I’d never been to a strip club or anything like that, but I knew that there were plenty of rich men that paid for sex.

  I looked around the room and my gaze landed on a stubby man in the corner, his face red from all his wine. He was talking animatedly with another person, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The conversations were all muted, but he seemed upset. I wondered for a moment how a woman could have sex with him, something so intimate and special, just for some extra money.

  But then, a week ago I never would have understood a woman deciding to serve a bunch of rich jerks their hors d'oeuvres in lingerie, either. My lips pursed to the side and I had to shake my head free of the thought. No, I wouldn’t be going down that route. I couldn’t let myself get to that.

  Just this one time, a little bit of extra money to help dad with his pills. That’s all.

  That’s all.

  ~~

  “He wants you to come back on Saturday,” Samantha told me as we counted out our cash back in the dorm room. I’d already counted it thrice, but it didn’t matter. I’d never held that much real money in my hands before. Everything was all done through the bank, now.

  Still, at her words, I lost count.

  “What?” I asked, and I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice. I hadn’t thought about that happening at all, not with how spacey I was and how often Samantha had to prod my side to wake me up. I hadn’t been sleeping well, on top of everything, and she’d had to help me with the dark circles under my eyes.

  “Yea, Logan specifically requested, and I quote, ‘the pale brunette with the shrimp’. Couldn’t be anyone else, Rae.”

  I bit my lower lip and looked aside. “Wait, this Saturday?” How often did they have these soirees? And why had Logan invited me, of all people? Before I’d left I’d noticed one of the pretty, tall women chatting with him, her pelvis thrust towards him. I wasn’t stupid, I understood what that meant. She was totally into him, and he seemed really into her as well.

  Sam nodded at me, reaching out and touching her tanned hand onto my knee. She squeezed it gently and I looked to her face once more. A soft smile was on her lips but it didn’t reach her eyes, as though she were hiding something.

  “Sam?” I asked, probing her. We’d been dorm mates since September, but in the past six months, we’d become close. Especially once my dad took ill. She’d lost her father when she was fifteen, leaving just her mother, her two brothers, and her to fend for herself. That was why she’d started entertaining at these high end cocktail parties. She still wouldn’t tell me how she got started, though.

  Samantha exhaled. “Listen, you don’t have to say yes or anything. But Saturday they have less people – less girls, less men. It’s just for their elite, alright? So you’d have to bring your A-game. None of this staring off in space, Rae. You gotta be fully there.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “They start at seven, Rae. It ends around three in the morning. That’s eight hours, but they’re paying two grand. Two. Grand. Rae, think about how much this could mean to your dad, for just one night.”

  My mouth dropped. Two thousand dollars? That’d help me pay for my dad’s meds for at least two months. For eight hours of work? I was already nodding. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

  ~~

  “I don’t know, Sam,” I sighed from the dressing room. All around me were mirrors, reflecting back my pale skin and mousy brown hair and my eyes too big for my head. I hated going into change rooms, and I hated even more trying on lingerie. I looked so scrawny in everything, and the red push up bra Samantha had handed me to try on looked comical. “It makes me look like I have implants.”
/>
  “That’s the point, hun,” she said back with just as much of a sigh. “Come out and let me look?”

  I don’t know why I hated that thought so much. We’d seen each other changing frequently, and we did just work together in our skivvies. But this was different. I felt like an imposter.

  “C’mon, Rae. I’ll tell you the truth.”

  My fingers ran along one of the red straps, fixing the bra so that it pushed up my meagre breasts to nearly my throat. I couldn’t try on the panties, but the lacy things were slung on one of the hooks. The saleswoman said they were a ‘Brazilian’ and supposed to make even the smallest butts look great.

  With my jeans still slung about my hips, I pushed open the door to the change room just an inch, but Sam wriggled her way inside anyway.

  “Sam!” I protested, but she was already pushing me away, keeping me at arm’s length.

  “I think you look bangin’” she said proudly, as if she’d fixed something that had been way broken.

  “Don’t use that word,” I whined, hating the tone of my voice. “I don’t know if I can wear red.”

  “Are you kidding me? With how pale you are it makes you look electric. I still don’t know how you keep your skin so pristine. If only we were all so lucky,” she teased, but it was annoying coming from her. Sam was pretty much everything I wanted to be and wasn’t – she had a natural, year round tan and light brown hair that she always dyed blonde. Her breasts were huge, and her butt was to die for, and she had all this confidence that just radiated out of her.

  “Well, fine. You look very sexy, though, Rae. I mean that.” She reached out, fixing the strap that I already thought I’d fixed and smiled. “With the panties, and that black choker I have, there’s no way anyone will ignore you tonight.”

  Why had I told her I felt ignored? She insisted we go out and that she’d treat me to another outfit. There was no way I was blowing some of my money on something as frivolous as a second pair of lingerie for work that I wasn’t going back to. Not after Saturday.

  I’d take the twenty-five hundred, finish taking my midterms, then figure out what I was going to do with my life during spring break. I was almost halfway through my degree, and I didn’t know if I was even going to be able to finish. I hadn’t told Sam that, though.

  “Are the heels fine to go with this?” I asked, worry creeping into my voice. I hated owing someone like this. Sam had been nothing but great to give me this opportunity, but I hated having to do this for money. It just felt wrong.

  “Oh, no, there’s no shoes at this one,” Sam said with a shrug, and I raised my eyebrow.

  “What do you mean? We’re expected to go around in bare feet?”

  “Something like that.”

  She was being intentionally dodgy, and I furrowed my dark brows.

  “What is it, Sam?”

  “It’s nothing, Rae. Nothing to worry about. Just that for Saturday’s party, they give us all, like, anklet things. Like a collar but just for your ankles. And some for your wrists. It’s just part of the party, Rachael. Don’t make a big deal of it.”

  Her trying to tell me not to make a big deal about it, though, made it a big deal. A huge deal.

  “Like collars?”

  “Well, yea. They’re leather and totally comfortable. It won’t hurt at all, it’s just a bit weird to get used to at first. They have little bells on them so that we make a bit of sound when we’re moving, that’s all.”

  “That’s all? Are you sure, Sam? There’s nothing else I need to know before I go through with this?” I had to go through with it. It was already two in the afternoon, and Sam had already told Logan that I’d agreed. But with the way she looked at me, my stomach turned. There was definitely something else.

  “You might see some things, Rae. That’s it. Things that you might not like, but you just gotta be okay with it. Pretend it’s normal.”

  “What types of things, Samantha?” I rarely called her by her full name and she knew it. It was something only her mom’s second husband called her and she hated it.

  Sam cringed.

  “There are rooms that are reserved for… couples, Rae. Nothing you have to be involved in at all, just serve their drinks and carry on, that’s it. I’ll be with you the whole night, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you to you don’t want. You are only being paid to serve drinks and dress up, that’s it.”

  My heart raced, and I swear I’d swallowed a lump.

  There was going to be sex? At a party?

  What type of people were these?

  Samantha must have seen my face fall, for her hand reached out to gingerly touch along my jaw and look at me very seriously.

  “If you feel uncomfortable we can go home, I promise. But think of the money, Rae. Think of all you could do with it. And it’s way better in your hands that those rich twats, right?”

  Right, Sam. You are very, very right.

  ~~

  It was only eight in the evening, the sun had only set for an hour, yet already the party was in full swing. It didn’t have any of the same muffled, muted conversations of last time. Even though there were less people, it was much louder. There was even a quartet playing music in the corner of the large basement.

  There were no windows. That was the first thing I’d noticed when Samantha led me down the stairs on my bare feet. The little bells on the leather cuffs jingled lightly, and I twisted my foot a few times just to hear that soft sound. It was almost angelic, but I’d be stupid not to have noticed the D-cuffs on the back of both the ankle and wrist bracelets. Just like on the collar wrapped around my throat, the one Sam had insisted I borrow.

  She’d done my makeup again to the point that I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror, my hair once more curled into long ringlets and smoothed so that it wasn’t so stringy looking. She kept telling me that the less I looked like myself, the better I’d feel about this.

  Just pretend it’s a play, she insisted.

  But as I looked around at the other hostess’ and their flirty smiles, the way they bent over to pour drinks, I could never do that. I’d look too blocky, too awkward.

  Hell, I felt awkward just standing there and trying to give polite smiles as I refilled the men’s wine glasses.

  I didn’t know if all of the women were solely there to hostess. As the night wore on, it became more and more apparent to me that they were being paid for a different type of work, as they flirted with the most unattractive men.

  I’d never be able to do that.

  I couldn’t even flirt with cute men.

  Desperately I tried to avoid the play areas, the closed door rooms and the strange devices in the corner. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what this was - some freaky sex party - but I was doing my best to ignore the way those men chased giggling women with paddles, and the fact that there were some unused stocks in the corner.

  I walked around the large room, past the string quartet. They were playing something I couldn’t quite put my fingers on, like a more classical version of some fairly recent pop song. I stepped away and felt the strange little bells along my limbs as they swung back and forth to the rhythm of my light step.

  How long had I been there? I’d lost track of time, but I was starting to feel exhausted, and our hosts hadn’t even arrived. I’d hoped that at the very least I could make a good impression at the start, to make Sam look better to them. She did this all the time, after all. Even if I was never coming back again, I didn’t want to hurt her career or whatever.

  Luckily I’d been spared any sight of skin that I didn’t want to see, though. They kept stealing off to one of the many posh rooms down the hall, and there were always at least two women checking for drinks in there.

  I smiled across the room at Sam. She hadn’t abandoned me yet, and I appreciated that. She smiled back at me but then her spine straightened and she quickly closed the distance between us. The hard wood floors were strange to walk on barefoot, and my skin had prickled with goose bumps
as she touched my bicep lightly.

  She smiled her hurry off as if it were no big thing, but she primped my hair and touched my lips, fixing my lipstick I guessed. It had a habit of running past my mouth and making me look like a clown.

  “They’re coming,” she hissed before going back to her post and standing up straight as a rail. It made her breasts stick out even more and I caught myself staring at them for a moment with envy before her words sunk in.

  I stood up just as straight as her, though even with my push up bra I didn’t look nearly so statuesque. Instead of the makeup making me feel like someone different, it just made me feel like a fraud, and it was hard to keep my chin held high and my shoulders straight.

  Richard Albert came down the stairs, and he looked nearly youthful. He still donned a suit, but it was more informal, a bit less stuffy. He’d traded the stark black for some navy pinstripes that still seemed a bit old fashioned, if you asked me, but what did I know about the style of the rich and the famous?

  He wasn’t who I was interested in anyway.

  Logan strode in afterwards, all liquid cool with a commanding presence. Somehow I felt both more uncomfortable, and more relaxed, now that he was here. His jaw was strong and his full lips were spread into a smile as he gestured at one of his friends. But that wasn’t all. Behind him was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

  His golden hair was kept long and reminded me of the guy who played Thor, I couldn’t remember his name. Hell, his entire body reminded me of some demi-god. He didn’t bother with a suit, just a clean pressed shirt that was rolled up to his elbows and looked incredibly soft.

  The three of them paused at the end of the stairs and Sam rushed to action, ensuring none of them were without a glass in their hands for very long.

  But I barely saw anything except for the fact that the gorgeous god was looking at me.

  My hand went to my face, certain something was there. My cheeks were already burning hot. His blue eyes were staring through me, into my soul. He could read every last filthy thought I was having about him, I was certain, and I had to look away to preserve some shred of decency. I cursed the cool bite of the air and how nude I was and how my bodily response was so obvious to any who cared to observe.