by Sloane, Roxy
“God, I hope they don’t have sex out here,” Anna whispers to me. “I don’t know if I’d be able to keep from gawking at them!”
I eye the platform with interest. There’s a bench placed on the stage, and I remember my interview with Dax, when I joked about it not being me up there getting spanked.
A jolt of heat strikes through me. I’m not some inexperienced virgin -- I dated Troy for two years in college, and Lord knows I’ve read plenty of sexy books -- but the image of Dax spanking me makes my nipples tighten and my thighs clench. I push the thought out of my mind. I’m his employee, after all. And I’m about to betray him.
“Kate?”
I turn. Dominique is already heading down the next hallway, with Anna waiting for me.
“Sorry!” I blurt, hurrying after them.
“These are the private rooms,” Dominique announces, as we pass a series of doors marked ‘Opal’, ‘Pearl, ‘Onyx’. She opens the door to one, revealing a sumptuous four-poster bed in the middle of the room, draped with expensive-looking linens.
I take a few steps inside, curious. On one wall, there’s a rack of toys: floggers, paddles, all kinds of things. I go to the rack and run my fingertips lightly over the polished handles. Everything looks hand-carved from the finest materials, nothing cheap or tacky about it.
Anna picks up a flogger and giggles, swatting the leather fronds in the air. Dominique takes it from her with a look.
Okaay.
“Members can use these buzzers to call you if they need anything: more drinks, food,” she explains, “Or an accessory that isn’t here. Sex toys, for example, we keep in a library in the staff-only wing. That way, we can ensure they’re all cleaned hygienically after each session.”
Anna wrinkles her lip at the thought. “Do we have to clean up after them?” she asks, looking around the room.
Oh, God. I hope not.
Dominique smiles. “No, we have staff who tend to the cleaning of the rooms. You girls are hostesses, you’re here to make our members comfortable. No more, no less.”
I pause, remembering what Dax said about hook-ups. “What happens if someone tries to... you know, invite us to join the fun?” I ask, worried. Dax may be clear that we’re not hookers, but I figure plenty of men who come here would like to think otherwise, especially if we’re all dolled up in tight dresses offering to provide “anything” they need. I don’t want to have to spend all night fending off grabby hands and invitations to get tied up.
Unless they’re from the boss.
Dominique gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid it does happen on occasion, usually when a member brings a guest who doesn’t know how things work. In those cases, just politely decline, leave the room, and inform Griffin, or whoever is running security that night. The person will be immediately removed.”
“Just like that?” I ask in disbelief. I’ve seen rich assholes grope waitresses in bars all over the city, and never once get thrown out. Usually, the owners care more about their take for the night than the employees.
But Dominique seems serious. “Just like that,” she repeats. “I can promise you, Mr. Ryan considers the safety of his employees paramount. He runs a ‘one strike’ policy here. If there’s even a single complaint about a guest’s behavior, that person’s membership is revoked.”
Wow. I’m impressed.
“But that is also true of our staff,” Dominique continues, leading us out of the room. “We expect the highest standards of behavior from our hostesses. If anyone complains about your attitude, or you do anything against club policies, you’ll be let go.”
“We better be on our best behavior!” Anna whispers, grinning. I nod, but inside, I’m nervous.
How am I going to pull this off?
Dominique takes us through the rest of the induction, and then sends us to the staff dressing room to get ready with the rest of the girls. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but they’re a friendly group, just like me and Anna: out of college, or paying their way through school, and totally casual about the unusual nature of the club.
“Here, I always carry wet-wipes with me, and a little bottle of sanitizer,” one of them advises me, passing over a tiny packet. “You want to keep your hands clean.”
“Ignore her, she’s a total germ-a-phobe!” another girl laughs.
“You’ll be starting in the main bar, like we all did,” another tells us. She applies red lipstick in the mirror, and hitches her cleavage up. Everyone’s dressed in classy-looking outfits: lacy black dresses and figure-hugging pencil skirts, but there’s a definite bondage edge in all the collars, cuffs, and kinky heels on show. Dominique provided us with a list of acceptable outfits, but luckily, my borrowed dress passed the test.
“The private rooms tip more, but they don’t let newbies back there,” the first girl, Louisa, agrees. “They want to make sure you can handle all the X-rated stuff that happens.”
“Don’t worry,” she adds, seeing Anna’s nervous expression. “You’ll get used to it in no time at all. When I started, I couldn’t believe my eyes, but now I’ll walk in on a DP and barely blink.”
Anna doesn’t look reassured. I give her a smile. “Just remember the tips,” I whisper. “And you won’t be the center of attention. In a place like this, nobody remembers their hostess. They’ll all be focused on their own fun.”
Anna gives me a grateful smile. “It’s crazy, right? How casual everyone is about... you know… the sex.”
I shrug. “I guess. But think of a frat house on a Friday night. At least here, you won’t have some drunk jock pawing at you. You’ll do great.”
“You too.” Anna smiles. “See you later!”
*
Two hours later, and I’m trying my best to be the perfect hostess. Luckily, I’ve been working as a waitress for years to get me through college, and then here in the city, so it’s easy for me to slip back into old habits: greeting members and taking drink orders while I keep my eyes open and absorb the lay of the land.
Even after meeting Dax and the rest of the staff, I still wasn’t sure what to expect from a sex club -- however exclusive and secretive. I pictured seedy older guys leering over young escorts, but as the club fills up, I can see that the members are a wealthy, glamorous crowd with impeccable manners. Everyone looks stylish and sophisticated, but mysterious too. There are single people, and small groups, but I’m surprised to find most of the members are here in couples. They flirt and smile at each other, slipping away to the private suites together -- or parting with a kiss to go enjoy the company of somebody else.
I wonder what it would be like to be one of them. Coming here and shedding all my inhibitions, getting up to all kinds of sinful, sexy things in the private salons...
Through it all, I make sure to keep one eye on Dax. I figured our brooding owner would stay out of sight behind the scenes, but to my surprise, he’s right in the middle of the action -- and looking way more at home. Greeting members like old friends, buying drinks, smiling and at ease. He holds court at a reserved VIP booth in the center of the room, making everyone feel welcome and at home.
But just like I’m watching him, he’s watching everyone else. Even as he lounges against the bar with a drink of whiskey, I can see his eyes dart around the room. Taking stock of who’s where, doing what, with who else. He calls over his head of security occasionally, leaning in to murmur in a private conversation. Then it’s back to the party -- but not to relax. That calm façade is just an act. His blue eyes don’t miss a beat.
He sees everything.
One woman in her thirties with long blonde hair flags me down as I pass her booth. She’s snuggled up to a handsome man, flirting with him over cocktails.
“Could you please take a bottle of champagne to the man in the Opal suite?” she asks, sliding her membership key across the table. Aside from tips, everything is put on the member accounts: no credit card trail, and no names. “Brut, if you have it. It’s my husband’s favorite.” She wi
nks.
I look back at the man beside her as he slides one hand down beneath the table -- and between her legs.
I cough. “Um, sure. Right away.”
“Thanks, doll.” The woman smiles, leaning back in her booth to enjoy whatever her companion is doing, just out of sight.
I hurry away, feeling my cheeks flush. I’m realizing how wrong I was when I told Anna it was just like party night at the frat house. Sure, back in college there were plenty of drunk people groping each other in plain sight, but here at the club, it feels completely different.
Exclusive. Forbidden.
And sexy as sin.
I fetch the bottle of champagne from the bartender, and set a silver tray with two glasses. Then I add a third, just in case, and take it through to the back hallway where the private suites are -- and Dax’s office.
I glance around as I go. Griffin is stationed discreetly at the end of the hall. He gives me a nod as I pass. I hurry on.
Security is everywhere. Griffin keeps watch back here, but there are other staff too: serious-looking guys in immaculate suits, lingering by the main doors, the bar, everywhere. You wouldn’t know to look, but this place is like Fort Knox on the inside, full of people ready to make any sign of trouble melt away.
To catch someone like me.
I reach the Opal suite and knock timidly on the door. “Sir? I have some champagne. Special delivery.”
A moment later, a voice answers, “Come on in.”
I step inside. There’s a bed here like in the other suite Dominique showed us on the tour, but this one has a metal frame as the headboard. A gorgeous redhead is bound to it.
She’s naked. Writhing. Moaning in desire.
Oh my God.
I avert my eyes, going to set the champagne on a table by the bed. The man is stripped to his waist, holding a riding crop in his hands.
“Would you mind pouring?” he asks politely, turning back to the bed.
“Sure.” I fumble with the cork. I don’t want to interrupt, but he doesn’t seem to mind that I’m here.
He slowly trails the riding crop over the woman’s body, making her pant. “You misbehaved, my sweet. You know that means punishment.”
“Please...” the woman moans, and the arousal in her voice makes me shiver. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Master.”
I glance over. She’s pulling at her restraints, thrusting her body towards him. Her nipples are peaked, her thighs spread wide. She’s so turned on, I can see it in the way she pants for breath, whimpering helplessly.
My face flushes with heat. I can’t believe I’m intruding on such a private moment -- or that neither of them cares they have an audience.
The man taps the crop lightly between her legs, making her moan.
“Shh... darling. You know the rules. You can’t come until I say so.”
I’m shocked to find myself getting turned on, just being in the same room as them. It’s like I’ve walked into the middle of a sexy porno film, but it feels even more dirty because I know that these are real people, real moans of pleasure, not faked for some camera.
What would it be like to be in her place? Bound and begging for release?
Sex with Troy was nothing like this. To tell the truth, it was kind of boring sometimes. He wasn’t much for foreplay, and acted like it was a chore to try and get me in the mood before jackhammering away, assuming his metronome thrusts were more than enough to satisfy both of us.
But this….?
The man looks over and sees me frozen, watching them. I step back, but he just smiles.
“Look, you have an audience,” he croons to the redhead. The woman seems to get even more excited. “Show her how you submit to me, sweetheart.”
“Yes, Master.”
He crawls across the bed towards her. “Now beg,” he orders.
“Please, oh please, Master!”
“What do you want?” he continues.
“Touch me, please,” she mewls. “I need you so much.”
He reaches her prone body, then without even pausing, he yanks her thighs apart and buries his face in her bare pussy. She screams in pleasure.
Holy shit!
I nearly drop the champagne bottle in shock, but somehow, I can’t look away. He devours her, lapping at her clit as she moans. He lifts her hips, spearing his tongue inside her, like he wants to drink every last drop.
I feel dizzy. Fuck, it’s so hot. I can’t believe that he’s doing this right in front of me -- or that I’m getting so turned on watching them.
My nipples stiffen. Heat coils tight between my thighs. God, nobody’s ever eaten me out like that, so forcefully--
Her screams get louder, finally breaking me out of my lustful daze. What am I doing? I’m on the clock, and I can’t afford to get this distracted. Especially not on my first shift.
I finish pouring the champagne with a splash, and then turn and flee the room, escaping back into the hallway just as her screams reach a crescendo.
“Hey, watch it!”
I don’t see where I’m going, and barrel straight into a solid chest.
I stumble, losing my balance, but a pair of strong hands grip me tight, holding me up.
“Not so fast,” the man says, and I look up into those all-knowing blue eyes.
It’s Dax.
CHAPTER SIX
DAX
For the second time today, I catch Kate coming out of one of the private suites looking guilty -- but this time, there’s something different about her. Her pupils are dilated, and she’s panting for air.
“Why were you running so fast?” I ask, keeping a tight hold on her arms. Her body is hot against me, all those luscious curves practically spilling out of her dress.
“I... um...” she stammers. Then the sound of screams echoes from the room she just bolted out of. Screams of complete and total ecstasy.
I laugh. It happens to all our new hires. Hearing about the club activities is one thing, but seeing them in the flesh is always a shock. “Too much for you, Little Miss Indiana?”
“No!” She protests quickly. “I just...”
She trails off, lost for words. I take a closer look: the dazed look in her eyes, the way her chest heaves with every breath. And then my eyes catch as I notice the outline of her nipples, two stiff peaks pressing eagerly through the skimpy fabric of her dress. She flushes, seeing my gaze, and tries to look away, but it’s too late, I’ve seen the truth.
She’s turned on.
Blood rushes straight to my cock.
I take a step closer, still holding her arms tightly. She tries to back away, but it’s a narrow hallway. There’s nowhere to turn.
“It’s okay that you liked it,” I say.
Her jaw sets defiantly. “So what if I did?” she retorts. “That’s not against the rules, is it?”
I smile. “No... it’s not. But it’s not about the rules, is it? It’s about breaking them.”
I’m reminded why I hired her in the first place. The anonymous note; my instinct that there’s more to this girl than she’s letting on.
I need to find out the truth, and maybe this is a way to keep her off-guard.
After all, it’s hard to lie when you’re coming your brains out.
I reach out and touch her cheek. She shudders under my hand, and dammit, I want to fuck her.
Hard.
“What is it, I wonder, that’s made you so hot?” I muse, keeping her trapped against the wall. I trail my hand lower, down the curve of her throat. “Was it bondage?” I ask, gripping her tighter. I’ve never done this with an employee before, but I need information. And though I don’t want to admit it, there’s something about this girl that’s more than a pretty face, an insanely hot body, that feisty attitude. She’s mysterious. Curious. Irresistible.
“Handcuffs, maybe?” I prod.
She shakes her head, her eyes lifting to look at me, a flare of desire in her pupils. I brush myfinger against her soft skin..
“
Hmm... a threesome, then?” I try, skimming my fingertips lower, past her collarbone, over the lush swell of one breast. She catches her breath. “Is that what you saw? A woman taking two cocks, begging for more? Would you like that?”
She inhales sharply. “No,” she whispers.
I immediately still my hand. “Tell me what you really want.”
“Nott a threesome,” she says. Something shifts in her gaze, the hesitation vanishes. She arches her back a little, pressing her breast into my palm, and meets my eyes in a needy stare.
“Then tell me,” I murmur, leaning in to whisper in her ear. I gently roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, teasing the stiff bud as she gasps. “BecauseI can give you what you want.”
I pinch harder and she makes a strangled moan.
Her eyes close. Her wet lips part, teasing. Begging to be filled with my tongue. My fingers.
My cock.
“I want…I want…” She can’t get the words out.
“Dammit,” I growl, shocked at how turned on she’s making me. “You look so sexy like that, I could fuck you up against the wall right now.”
Her eyes fly open in shock.
“But I won’t,” I tell her. “Not when my office is right down the hall. Come now.”
I take her hand and pull her into my office, locking the door behind us. She looks like she’s expecting to be punished, but might just enjoy it. Before she can object, I lift her up and set her on the desk.
“Better,” I say.. “Now we’re all alone.”
Damn, she looks hot, splayed there on my desk. Her skirt is hiked up those tan thighs, and her kinky boots could do some serious damage digging into my spine.
If I’m lucky.
But I hold back, remembering why I’m doing this. Not just because those rebellious eyes have been driving me crazy since the moment she walked in the door. No, I need to show her who’s boss here. Who’s in control.
Remind her that whatever she thinks she’s hiding, whatever secrets she’s keeping, I’ll get them out of her in the end.
This is my world she’s in now, and I refuse to let anyone take it away from me.
I prowl closer, until I’m looming over her. My jacket comes off in a practiced shrug and I throw it over a chair, not taking my eyes off her for a second.
