“Jesus Christ.”
“And they’re always looking for new girls. I have to admit to having an ulterior motive here—I’ll get a five-thousand dollar bonus for referring a new hire and I’m planning a trip to Paris for New Year’s so…”
I swallowed hard.
“Could I just work weekends?”
“You set your own schedule. If the members decide they like you, you might get requests to be there more often…”
“Do I have to do what they say? If they request that?”
Maddie paused, looking slightly troubled.
“No…” she said slowly. “Not…necessarily. But there might be trouble if you do. It’s worth your while, either way. The more they like you, the more you make. And it’s fun.”
“Do you… have sex with them?”
“Yes. Sometimes.”
I swallowed again. Talking about this with my friend felt so naughty.
“But usually, they have other tastes they want to explore.”
“Like what?”
“Anything you can imagine, and a lot you can’t.” She slid the card towards me.
“I need to go to work, but if it sounds interesting, call the number. You’re cute and innocent-looking. You look young, too—they’ll like that a lot. You can work for a year there, part-time, and if you still want to, you’ll be a well-fed artist after you graduate—not a starving one.”
With this, she dropped a hundred-dollar bill onto the table. I was numb as she pecked me on the cheek and marched out into the night.
Interview
I barely slept. Finally, around six, I fell into a troubled sleep and awoke promptly at ten to a phone-call from my grandma, asking how my show had gone the night before. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror as I talked to them. Maddie was right. I might not have her skinny super model ass but I did look pretty young, pretty innocent—sweet and curvy, even. The players and pimps back in Brooklyn would have called me thick and it would’ve been a compliment. It means a girl with an ass—the kind of chocolate ass you can slap and get a nice, succulent wiggle out of… Would the billionaires like that? It made sense, that they would be into someone who looked like she was still in high-school… But had the ass and tits of a grown ass woman.
Finally, after I hung up with my grandma, I dug the card Maddie gave me out of my purse. I called the number on the card and listened to the line ring. Someone picked up after the third or fourth ring.
“Yes?”
I froze. The voice on the other line, a terse-male sounding voice, spoke again.
“Yes?”
“I-is this the New Amsterdam Squash and Polo Club?”
“It is.”
“I… My name is Ayesha. Ayesha Jefferson. My friend, Maddie Fellows, referred me for a job.”
There was a brief but pregnant silence on the other end of the line.
“Do you know where the club is?” the voice said finally.
“No… There was no address on the card.”
The voice gave me the address, which I recognized as being close to Province on the Upper East Side.
“Come by at three o’clock today. Don’t be late.”
“Sure thing—“ I started to say but the voice had already hung up.
Three o’clock—it was ten-thirty now. That gave me only a few hours to get ready. I all but dove into the shower and gave myself the works—moisturizing, conditioning, and shaving just about every inch of my body. As I showered, I worked on my strategy. I would try to look innocent, maybe even virginal. I probably couldn’t pull off Maddie’s femme fatale look but the sweet, inexperienced schoolgirl? I could definitely do that.
I put my chestnut hair up in pigtails and picked our a white blouse and a short plaid skirt. To my delight, I remembered that I had white knee socks and little black schoolgirl shoes from a play my freshman year. And they still fit!
I went easy with the make-up, applying only enough to enhance the effect of a little girl playing at being a big girl. What the hell am I doing, I found myself wondering. And what would the interview be like? Would they want me to… do anything? I supposed there was only one way to find out.
~
The club was down the street from Province. Maddie must have walked there from the bar the other night, I figured. That made sense—maybe she even got the club to reimburse her for the cab.
The address took me an old, patrician building with a doorman. I showed him the business card and he led me into the elevator, keying in a special combination.
“It’ll be the thirteenth floor,” he said shortly before the door closed. I noticed that there was no button for the thirteenth floor. The floors went ten, eleven, twelve, and then onto fourteen, fifteen and so on.
The elevator ride was one of the most nerve-wracking of my life. What was I getting myself into? This was essentially a brothel, wasn’t it? Maybe even something more, from the way Maddie had acted. But on the other hand, she seemed to like it. Maybe this could just be a good way to make some money. More money than I was making at Starbucks, at least.
The door dinged open on the thirteenth floor. I checked my phone. 3 o’clock exactly. At least I had that going for me.
There was a gorgeous Asian girl in a tight black dress that showed off her ample cleavage posted at the desk just outside the elevator.
“Ayesha Jefferson?” she asked immediately.
“That’s me.”
“Glad you could make it. I’ll let them know you’re coming in,” she said, keying her iPad a few times. “If you would just take a seat…”
I complied, and sat on a simple bench across from her. I watched her work and noticed that she seemed slightly… agitated. She was flushed and her breath came in hard, short gasps. Whatever she was experiencing seemed to get more and more intense. She gripped the desk and bent forward, her eyes shut tight.
“Are you okay?” I stammered.
“F-fine,” the girl muttered back before letting out a shriek and leaning back in her chair, shaking.
Just then, the door to the club opened and a tall, handsome white man, looking as if he were carved out of pure ivory, strode out. He was dressed in a jaunty dark maroon vest-jacket and matching pants, with a black tie.
“Ayesha, welcome to the New Amsterdam Club. We’re so happy you’re interested in working for us. Annie, I’ll take it from here.”
The girl, Annie apparently, nodded weakly. “Yes, sir,” she whimpered.
I followed the man into the club and down a long, dimly lit corridor. It was all dark oak paneling and pictures of old, presumably dead white dudes. The club’s former members, I guessed.
“My name is Richter Chance. I am the proprietor of this establishment. The fourteenth, in fact.” He had a slight German accent, I thought. Maybe Dutch?
“It’s…very beautiful.”
“Why, thank you! We renovated two years ago. It was expensive, but I think the members appreciated a return to the…classicality of it all. Before, we had some garish, post-modern design and it didn’t really suit anyone, at all.”
“I can imagine…” I said uncertainly. Richter led me into a parlor off the corridor, which was decorated in a similar vein: oak paneling, comfy looking leather couches, dim lights, and bookshelves everywhere. It was exactly what I would have imagined a private club looking like.
“Now, how much has Madelyne told you about this establishment?” Richter asked with a smile. There was a bar in the parlor and he took a seat, gesturing for me to sit next to him.
“Well, she explained that it’s a very prestigious club,” I said lamely. Richter’s smile faltered. That wasn’t quite the answer he was looking for.
“And that the scheduling his flexible…” His smile faltered even more. I had to come up with something good, or this interview was over.
“And that the staff has to be ready to fulfill any request a member has?”
Richter’s smile returned in full force.
“Yes!
That is correct, and the most important aspect of our club. You see, our members have the pick of private clubs in New York. In the world, in fact. Do you know why they pick our club?”
I shook my head.
“Because ours is the only one where dreams come true. Where anything you desire can be had. And our members have very imaginative desires… As you can imagine.”
I inhaled sharply. So far, so good.
“So, to start: Ayesha, would you make me a gin and tonic?”
That was easy enough, I figured. I stepped behind the bar, took a second to get my bearings, and filled a glass with ice. I gave him have tonic water, half Bombay Blue Sapphire gin, and topped it off with a lime.
“Enjoy,” I said with a sweet smile.
Richter took a sip.
“Very good,” he said, pleased. “What do you think of the diplomatic situation with Russia?”
“With Russia?”
“Yes, with Russia.”
I paused, racking my brain for things I had heard from the past week.
“Well… I think Obama has muddled things with the Russians but for all the wrong reasons. The gay rights situation with Sochi, that would have been an acceptable reason to cancel the meeting with Putin. But Snowden? Obama is making the United States look like a whining child.”
I had my right-wing father to thank for that golden line, but Richter seemed pleased.
“Very insightful! I had not thought of that. Now, my dear, one last request. Fellate me.”
I was slightly shocked but not that much. I suppose I had suspected there might be something like… that… in the interview. I came out from behind the bar and without saying anything, got down on my knees in front of Richter. I unzipped his pants and used my teeth to pull down his underwear, letting his long, swollen pink-white cock pop out of his pants. I almost gasped but I held my tongue. I had to look like the consummate professional, I decided.
I licked from the base of his cock up, up to the meaty tip, swirling my soft little tongue around his thick,white manhood.
“Mmm, not bad, my dear,” Richter said, obviously pleased as he ran his hand through my hair. I started to shrink away from his touch but instead I leaned into it. I had to make him think I liked this. Make him think I wanted it; that I wanted this job, and especially, that I wanted his cock. That was the secret, I realized in that moment, as I felt his manhood twitch under my tongue. Make him think that I wanted it, because he, like all the other billionaires who came to this club… All they wanted was to be wanted.
And so I attacked his cock, devouring it like a wolf who’s been starving all winter, bobbing my ravenous lips up and down, up and down, swirling my hungry tongue around that veiny shaft. I pressed my nose into his chestnut brown pubic hair, feeling it tickle my nose before sliding all the way off it and then, only then, impaling my throat on his slick sex.
“Oh, good god, girl,” Richter groaned. “You could suck the chrome off a Buick.”
I decided to take that as a compliment, especially when Richter’s cock began to twitch in my mouth. I braced myself and shut my eyes tight as his cock spasmed: stream after stream of milky, salty cum flooded my mouth. I started to choke; I had never liked swallowing, but I forced myself to gag it down. He grabbed my roughly by the hair and forced the tip of his pale cock even further down my throat, as if he were injecting me directly with his hot seed.
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Richter said with a sigh as I let his softening cock flop out of my mouth with a pop. He handed me a napkin from behind the bar which I used to dab at my mouth daintily.
“You’re a bit… How shall I say it… Bigger than the girls we usually hire. But, you’ve clearly got the requisite skills and some of our patrons have expressed a desire for more… bountiful employees. So I think you’re just what we’re looking for.”
I smiled, shooting out my tongue to grab the last drop of his cum.
“What do you say you start tomorrow evening?”
“That’d be perfect,” I replied. He produced some paperwork for me to fill out, which I did, and then sent me on my way. As I left, I noticed Annie had collapsed against her desk, panting slowly.
“A-a-are you okay?” I asked tentatively. Annie glanced up at me.
“It’s fine.”
She pulled up her skirt and I gasped to see a giant dildo, inserted deep into her hairless pussy, secured firmly with duct tape strapped across his crotch and reaching around her ass.
“Mr. Richter is controlling it, to keep me on edge. I think he wanted you to see me orgasming. So you would have an idea of what you’re getting into.”
I nodded slowly, not really having any idea whatsoever of what I was getting into.
First Day of Work
I arrived at the club the next evening wearing a black dress that fit my curves nicely and not knowing what to expect. There was a different girl at the front desk waiting for me, one I’d never seen before.
“Ayesha, go ahead and follow me,” she said before I could say anything. “It’s a quiet evening so we’ll be starting you on bartending duty.”
“Oh… Okay,” I said, suddenly totally cognizant of the fact that I had no idea what I would be doing on a daily basis. Something kinky with the men of the club, presumably, but what else?
As she led me through the labyrinthine oak-paneled halls of the club, a sudden thought occurred to me.
“So, um, I’m not really trained as a bartender. Richter had me make him a gin and tonic yesterday but that was easy because it’s just gin and tonic.”
“Don’t worry,” the girl said offhandedly, as if I were an idiot for worrying about this. “The boys—we call them boys, of course, but don’t let them catch you saying that—usually prefer it if the girls are bad at making drinks. And there’s a book behind the bar if you’re really stuck.”
“They prefer it if we’re bad at making drinks?” We—I was already referring to us as we! “Why’s that?”
“Because then they get to punish you,” the girl said, allowing herself a little wicked smile. “Here we are!”
And so we were. She ushered me into a cozy parlor, not unlike the one Richter had shown me the day before. The girl was right: it was quiet. A few men, of various ages, mostly dressed in suits, sat around in big arm chairs, chatting, smoking cigars, enjoying port, or reading the newspaper. A pretty girl with curly red hair sat on one man’s lap but they just seemed to be talking—nothing scandalous was happening. Two men played pool in the corner, talking lazily in low voices. There was only one other girl at the bar, a pretty Indian girl wearing a low cut black dress, who was introduced to me as Priya.
“I’m a medical student at Columbia,” she explained. “I work one night a week and it pays all my tuition.”
“That’s incredible,” I gasped, as the girl from the front desk disappeared. “Is it, you know… Safe?”
“Oh, of course it’s safe,” Priya laughed. “You might have to do some nasty things but, you know, just think about the money… And here comes some now.”
An older gentleman, not un-handsome, approached us, a copy of the Financial Times stuck under his arms.
“Two dark girls tonight! Priya, darling, the usual.”
Priya bit her lip.
“Of course, Mr. Winston.”
With amazing alacrity, she whipped bottles around the bar, preparing a complex drink in an old fashioned glass. She came around the bar and placed it in front of Mr. Winston.
“Is this the new girl? The one Ryan has been so excited about?”
“It is. Do you know if Mr. Shaw will be around tonight?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll show up, sooner or later.” Mr. Winston turned to me and smiled. “You’re not quite my type, dearie, but Ryan’s a very… affectionate young man. I think you’ll like him. And this will be a good introduction to the club for you.”
He gestured to Priya who was now on her knees in front of Mr. Winston. She undid his pants and pulled out his cock. So, this
was the usual. Mr. Winston’s strong old cock disappeared into Priya’s plump brown lips. She closed her eyes as she sucked him and I found myself watching in awe as she bobbed her head. She brought him to orgasm quickly, skillfully. He grunted and let himself go, spilling his hot seed into her mouth. Like a complete professional, she swallowed every single drop down. She’d gotten him off in less than a minute! Maybe he just came fast, or maybe Priya was extremely skilled…
Mr. Winston drifted away and Priya came back around the bar. She gargled a glass of water and spat it out in the sink.
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