by Alice Ward
“Do you have the new menu?” Duk asked, his eyes as wide as a child’s as he twirled the edge of the black silk napkin between his newly manicured fingers. He wasn’t referring to the “catch of the day” but rather was inquiring about The Book of Delights and whether there were any new Jewels inside.
Each Jewel employee was well schooled in the evening’s client list, and most knew him well enough. He was a frequent visitor.
The waitress bent low enough to give him a good look down her top. “We’ve acquired some new delights since your last visit, and your favorites are ready and waiting to show you more.” Her voice, low and sultry, was like honey.
Trained to arouse every sensation, she bowed her head again and slowly turned from him, displaying her barely covered backside at his eye level. He let his hand brush across it as she sauntered toward the hostess stand.
She lingered for only a moment as the hostess produced a large glossy volume from behind the lacquered mahogany desk. Her every move was perfectly calculated. Taking her time, she moved back to us with gracious movements orchestrated to arouse his need and build the level of suspense. When she finally handed the heavily bound catalog over to him, even I was anxious to see it.
At that moment, my phone rang, the screen lighting up with Adam’s name. Probably my call from Pascal being forwarded. I looked over to Duk, who was engrossed in the glossy pages of the book.
“Excuse me.” Duk gave me a half nod without looking up, and I stepped away to take the call.
CHAPTER THREE
Adara
There was an ominous crack of thunder as I exited my dressing room. I hated storms. Goose bumps rose up on my arms and legs as the energy in the air from the storm pressed down on me. I took an umbrella from an assistant waiting by the front door to my building with shaking hands.
“Watch out for the walkways, they’re really slick,” she said with a note of real concern in her voice.
I nodded, unable to say anything because flashes of another night and another storm were filling my head. My hand clutched the umbrella as if it could help me cling to my sanity.
Outside, I walked as quickly as I could in the rain, but I still had plenty of time to get to the theater. Brandy usually wanted us in the main building ten minutes before curtain. It wasn’t a far walk, two minutes maybe, even at my slow pace.
The Jewel compound had an odd but remarkably efficient lay out. Everything was designed for illusion and discretion. The dressing rooms weren’t connected to the theater as they were in most traditional venues but had their own building nearby. This way, the girls could enter in full costume and never be caught in their everyday clothes. The owner was very particular that the illusion of Jewel appeared as real as possible. All of it was designed for the gentleman’s pleasure.
As soon as a man entered the property, the “show” began and didn’t truly end until he drove out of the gates. The structure of each night’s performance was the same with some variations nightly.
Each night, different women were presented in The Book of Delights. Food was handcrafted by chefs and tailored to each man’s personal preferences. Rooms were staged for whatever specialty they housed. By day, a staff of people cleaned and set up props in preparation for the night. Designers tailored the rooms for their nightly specialties by changing out linens, providing toys, contraception, lotions, candles, and lighting.
After the opening numbers — of which mine was the first — there were usually acrobats, singers, dancers, and illusionists, then the Procession of Delights. A catwalk-style parade of the women on offer that evening. A man would place an offer with a hostess and raise it until the hostess awarded him his choice. It wasn’t the same as an auction. The women for sale had the ultimate decision and since it was reservation only, the club prepared their “menu” to each man’s preferences. Hostesses could maneuver attention to available women, avoiding a bidding war.
When the women were selected for the evening, the Jewels would greet their clients in the audience and take them backstage. The rooms behind the stage were specialized for the variety of amusements the men sought. There, they began their evening.
If a Jewel’s client wanted more than what was on offer, they were taken to the bungalows on campus and the night would continue in one of the luxury suites.
The walk to the stage usually didn’t bother me. I liked being outside. Since everything within Jewel was designed for ocular pleasure, being outside felt like freedom. At times, the heavy brocades and thick, musky aroma that clung to them was too heady a mix. Fresh air reminded me that I wasn’t one of them, and never would be. I could gaze out from Jewel’s perch in the middle of the Bitterroot Mountain range and let the view of the jagged mountains in the distance soothe my anguished soul.
Tonight though, I cursed the rain.
I wore a long black velvet hooded robe that concealed my costume and kept me shrouded in mystery. All of the entertainers and Jewels wore the same capes to conceal themselves when they weren’t in the theater. Just as I neared the stage door, a lightning bolt cracked across the sky.
I screamed, and my hand flew to my chest, terror gripping me so intensely that I lost my footing. Tripping over my cane, I fell forward with my hands out, bracing for the immense pain a fall would cause me.
Rather than splaying out on the rock-hard concrete, I was caught by something warm and solid. Fingers on my arms. The smell of sandalwood and man. Warm breath on my face. My mind swirled with each sensation.
Another crack of thunder, and I was transported to a stage far from here…
An outdoor stage.
Dark, menacing clouds churned overhead.
Nate and I knew the storm was getting worse, but the festival hadn’t been evacuated. While I’d wanted to cancel, Nate insisted we go on with our show. Diehard festival goers would stand through anything, and we didn’t want to disappoint our fans.
Just after our first song, a police officer standing in the wings waved his hands madly, giving us the “stop” sign.
Nate and I looked at one another. We didn’t need words sometimes, we were so connected that we could read each other’s body language, and we’d been rained out before.
Nate grabbed the mic. “Heya, Montana!” The crowd cheered. “There’s quite a storm brewin’ out there, so we’ve been asked to have everyone evacuate the venue. Please take your time and don’t crowd. We promise we’ll give y’all the concert of a lifetime to make up for this mess, but right now everyone needs to get to safety. Adara and I are gonna stay up here and keep singing, but we want y’all to git!”
The crowd, however, didn’t agree and booed loudly, then started to chant our names.
Nate looked longingly at the microphone, but finally set it in the stand, just as a blinding strike a lightning hit the stage. Before I had time to scream, sparks flew everywhere, and the air filled with the acrid smell of burnt wood and steel as the boom of thunder filled the entire universe around me.
It all happened so fast.
The gale-force wind, the sheets of rain, the loud sound of splitting steel.
Then everything went black.
“I’ve got you. You’re okay now.” A man’s soothing voice came to me as if he’d spoken from miles away. “I’ll take care of you.” He was closer now. Closer. So close I could feel his hand on mine.
My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t see in the dark. My hand touched the flat coolness of a wall. I could smell musk and lavender. I was in the theater, in one of the halls.
“You took quite a fall out there. We were getting all wet so… are you okay?” My eyes searched to find the man who possessed the deep, soothing voice.
I was still disoriented, my chest feeling like it had been split in two and my heart wrenched out. “Yeah, I-I’m…” I wasn’t sure how to finish.
“Can I get you some water or something?” the dark-haired man asked as he moved closer and a door down the hall opened, ca
sting a pale light on his face. A face with a strong jaw and coppery brown eyes that were inspecting every inch of me with concern.
It was the most gorgeous face I’d ever seen, and it yanked me back from the nightmare storm two years ago and into reality. Back to Jewel. Back to my current life.
“Oh god, I’m sorry.” I gazed at him for a moment, horrified speechless. He had to be a client, and I didn’t know what I’d uttered in the time he’d brought me inside. Had he carried me? My stomach plummeted. “I must’ve tripped.”
He handed me my cane. “I think you dropped this.”
“Thank you.” I took the cane, letting my gaze linger on him, as I couldn’t pry my eyes away from his. As I grew accustomed to the dim light, I could see that his eyes were the deep mahogany color of the earth just before the sun rose and lit it with its rays. I thought he must have felt the same incredible magnetism because he took my hand and held it between his.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice drawing me in further.
No. No-no-no. Walk away. He’s a john.
“Thank you for catching my fall. I’ve got to go.” Quickly, before I could change my mind, I turned away from him and walked down the hallway toward the stage, trying with extreme effort not to hobble or lean too heavily on my cane.
“Wait!” His hand grabbed my arm through the cape. His grip was strong, and by his tone I could tell he was used to getting what he wanted. “Where are you going?” He seemed frantic, but quickly composed himself. “Can I see you again? Are you in that book?”
I shook my head, pulled free and continued walking as quickly as my disability would allow toward backstage. When I got there, I threw off my wet cape, feeling sore but grateful the gorgeous stranger had caught me. I closed my eyes and focused on taking one breath in and letting it out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Where’ve you been? You’ve three minutes till curtain!” Brandy whisper-screamed as she catapulted toward me.
She looked ridiculous and the utter absurdity of my impending act, blended with the storm and the man, hit me like a brick, and a bark of sob slash laughter leaped out of my throat.
“You want to tell me what’s so funny?” Her lips curled into a scowl.
I looked at her, longing for her true friendship, one where I could confide in her and not have it turned around on me. I needed her to be my family, not my pimp.
The odd tickling feeling I often got before entering the stage danced across my back and settled in my stomach. It wasn’t stage fright. I’d conquered that years ago. It was the fear of facing them. The men. This was a crowd of men who’d only see me as one thing, a prelude to sex. I was to arouse them, get them all hot and bothered so they would pick a Jewel tonight.
My job was to get them hard. Sweaty and ready to spend their money. The room was already electrified with anticipation.
“I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this again,” I confessed, not wanting to face my reality. The men out there were waiting for me, and I needed to be so beguiling that I inspired them to cheat on their wives and girlfriends in order to have a night with a dream.
He was out there… waiting, just like the rest. He probably had a beautiful wife and children at home.
“Yes, you can, and you will. You have to.” Brandy’s eyes were earnest. She must have seen my panic, and she’d known how to talk me down since I was an adolescent. “It’s just music. You love to sing, you always have. It’s what you do, who you are. We won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”
She was right, I could do this. It was only music.
I slipped my arms into the long gossamer wings that swept the floor as stagehands fitted the thick harness straps around my waist. Lights flared onstage and glimmering specks sparkled about the theater.
“Welcome to Jewel,” the announcer crooned. The noise of the men in the theater went silent. The stage stood empty except for the glaring spotlight trained on the announcer. “Tonight, take a journey unlike any you’ve ever traveled, to a land far far away. A land of delights.”
I was hoisted into the air, and my false wings spread wide.
CHAPTER FOUR
Roman
In the opulent men’s restroom, surrounded by marble and gold-flecked granite, I splashed cold water on my face and dried it with a hand towel that probably cost more than my shoes.
After catching that gorgeous creature in my arms, I carried her inside out of the rain. In the dim hallway behind the stage, the air was highly charged with sensuality. That must have been why I completely lost anything resembling sensibility and decorum.
I shuddered thinking about how I actually asked the masked goddess if she was in the book. How stupid of me, of course she was. Why else would she be here?
I stuck my head under the running water to cool my overheated libido, to freeze out whatever spell that beauty had put me under, practically having me pulling out my Amex Black. This place was legendary because it fucked with you. Everyone here played a game that even the most decent of men would find hard to resist.
After frequent trips here to stimulate clients, I knew that any woman at Jewel could be bought. If they weren’t already on the menu, they would be. All of the hostesses and wait staff were Jewels in training. If the women on offer for the night sold out, discreet offers for your hostess could begin. The girl in the black cape and mask was probably one of their gimmicks. Maybe guys liked to fuck women in masks; that slight limp probably was a thing as well.
By now, my client had more than likely been escorted into the theater, which would become the offer room once the entertainment came to a close. It was unusual for one of my clients to come solo with me to Jewel, and I didn’t want Duk to have to sit alone. I never went in the theater, but this time it would only be in the interest of business for me to join him.
When I returned to Duk, he seemed too delighted to even notice I was gone.
“Did I miss anything?” I whispered as I slipped into the seat beside him.
“Just that!” He motioned to the ceiling. “One of the gentlemen said she is their most amazing act.”
The woman from the hallway was perched overhead, her arms outstretched as a beam of light illuminated her high above us. It was then I noticed the tinkle of music and its haunting melody. That wasn’t… that couldn’t be. Was it her voice? It had to be a recording.
I watched in amazement as she flew over us like a fairy, with her wings outspread, singing in a low, intriguing voice. Her body glimmered under the lights and I caught glimpses of her shape. Wrapped in a nude bodysuit beneath the flowing gauze that floated around her, she appeared nearly bare-skinned. Her body was hourglass shaped, her waist accentuating rounded hips and the curves of her breasts. My eyes flicked to the stage, where acrobats were contorting themselves into a Cirque du Soleil version of the Kama Sutra, but my attention was immediately drawn back to her. She was unreal, like something out of a fairy tale.
“Her voice is beautiful,” I said to myself as I allowed myself to indulge in the moment and was startled when Duk spoke beside me.
“She’s so special.” His eyes were glazed, carnal desire shining in their dark depths. I felt a pang of jealousy before I told myself how ridiculous that was.
As she gradually floated down from the ceiling, the sexual contortionists faded into the shadows behind her, and she stood alone under a green-blue spotlight. In that light, her face under the mask was serene and mysterious.
I didn’t exactly know what it was about her that seized me so completely — whether it was her beauty or the veil of melancholy that surrounded her — but the sound of her husky voice and the hints of her physical form glinting under the light electrified me. The mystery of her had me wanting to possess her more than anything I’d ever desired. To remove her mask, see what beauty lay beneath.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she took command of the room. Her voice riveted every one of us as she sang in a foreign language.
> I was transfixed.
Glancing over, Duk too had an adoring glow as he beheld her. He smacked my arm with the back of his hand and motioned to the small tray on the back of the seat in front of me. “I got you bourbon. For watching the boobies.” He laughed. Duk thought everything was funny.
I wrapped my hand around the glass, brought it to my lips and emptied it in one long swallow. Most likely, Duk would select her tonight. I couldn’t imagine any other woman being more enticing. I signaled the waitress roaming our section of the theater for another glass to numb my envy of men who could allow themselves such indulgences.
Then the music changed, and the butterfly sang a lighter, sexier number. Half-naked dancers replaced the contortionists, undulating and grinding on each other behind her. The entertainment bordered on distasteful, especially with such a beautiful singer. The staged fuckery was somehow well done, whether because the dancers took more of a modern dance approach that raised the bar a little, or because I’d already downed two bourbons and was on my third, I didn’t know.
The end came too fast. I needed more.
Ignoring the voice in my head that chastised me for allowing the orchestrated magic of the place to get to me, I nonchalantly picked up the catalog and searched for the mystery woman’s page. The next performer took to the stage as I flipped through page after page of beautiful women, scanning to find her with no luck. Perhaps I was looking for a woman without a mask on.
I leaned toward Duk as I pretended to carelessly graze the pages. “Did you read about that last one, the one in the mask?”
“She’s only for the show,” he remarked with a note of disappointment as new waitresses began to serve an elaborate dinner that led to an entrée of wild caught salmon.
I ate a little, so I wouldn’t be sloshed, but couldn’t seem to turn my attention from the damn book. Each woman pictured in the book was gorgeous. I couldn’t help but think they could have been models or actresses. Why choose the Jewel?
