by Vivian Ward
By the time I got off work from the club, came home, fixed a small snack, and got to bed, it was nearly two in the morning. Normally, I sleep like the dead, so this four and a half hours of sleep just isn’t cutting it. Shutting off the annoying buzzing sound, I lean back on my bed and replay that woman pulling Colton away from me.
It’s enough to get my blood pumping that I’m finally ready to jump out of bed and start getting ready for my day, damning myself for allowing me to think about him and that girl.
Patting my face dry, I throw on a pair of black slacks and a striped shirt before I dab on a bit of makeup. With little time to spare, I pull my hair back in a ponytail and fasten a pair of hoop earrings as I slide on a pair of flats and rush out the door.
At the office, I stop by the coffee station and pour myself a full cup of coffee, grabbing my cream and Splenda that I’ll add once I’m at my desk. Just as I’m logging into the computer system to see today’s assignments, Darcy spots me and makes her way toward me.
“Hey, stranger,” she plants her ass on the corner of my desk. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately. What have you been up to?”
“Just working,” I sigh, trying my best to ignore her.
“It must be tough working two jobs,” she giggles.
Darcy can annoy the hell out of me sometimes, and today is one of those days. “Yep, it sure is,” I offer a weak smile before I take a sip of my coffee.
“What’s it like working in a flower shop? Is it boring? Do you sneeze a lot?”
“What?” I ask, caught completely off guard.
“The flower shop? With your best friend?” She jogs my memory. “The one you were at last night?”
“Oh,” I laugh. I haven’t told her about Club Kaswell. That’s my secret project, and only Kristin knows about it. I’d never tell Darcy or anyone else here what I was working on because I want this story to be all mine. “Sometimes it’s boring, but lately everything has been crazy.”
It’s not a complete lie—in either case. Yes, the flower shop has been crazy busy and I feel awful for leaving Kristin hang like I did, but she gets it. And yes, I can definitely say things have been crazy working at Club Kaswell.
“I’m glad that I don’t have to work two jobs,” she says, leafing through some of the papers on my desk. She’s always trying to see what I’m working on.
“Well, some of us aren’t that lucky,” I say, shooing her away from my desk as I slide over to unlock the computer. “So, are you still working on that story about the priest?”
She’s been protective of that story because she thinks she’ll be able to get major exposure for herself. Rumor has it that a couple of the priests at a local Catholic school has been touching little boys.
Those stories are a dime a dozen.
I’m not saying they’re not important—because they are—but it seems like every time you turn on the news, no matter what station you’re listening to or what city you’re in, there’s some story about a priest touching an altar boy. It’s the same story that’s been circulating for nearly a decade and a half now. New name, new church, but same old story.
Now, a billionaire running a secret sex club? You don’t hear about those kind of stories.
My ploy to get her out of my hair and get her ass off my desks works well at the mention of her precious altar boys. “Yes, I need to dig a little deeper. Get some more research,” she explains. “I should probably get back to work.”
“Have fun,” I say, smiling internally.
“Yep,” she says, almost completely away from my desk before she lures herself back to me. “Are you working on anything?” she asks.
“Unfortunately, they’ve just got me knee deep in festival articles and fetching coffee,” I shrug. “Hopefully, I’ll get a break as big as yours.”
“Yeah, maybe one day,” she smiles and scrambles out of sight.
She’s so stupid to think she’s the only one working on a story, I think to myself as I sip my coffee and finish logging into the system.
By lunch, I’m buried in my work and the phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day, but I’m not letting it deter me from working on the story that I know is going to change my life. The problem is, the more I think about him, the harder I find it to concentrate on my work.
He’s so damn sexy.
Last night when he asked me for the NDA, I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I can tell that he’s beginning to get suspicious of me, and I don’t blame him. He probably has to be suspicious of everyone he deals with because of who he is and what he does. Still, that didn’t stop my blood from racing through my veins as my quivering lip nearly gave me away. I did my best to play it cool so it’d buy me some more time.
By the time 5:00 hits, I grab my coat and purse before I dart out of the building to meet Kristin at the flower shop. I’m glad that I have the night off to help her because she really needs it and I’m dying to tell her about the club.
The shop is completely packed and there is a small crowd of men loitering the lobby, hopeful to buy their Valentine’s at the last minute before all of the florists run out of roses. Rushing inside, I pull off my coat and set my things on the shelf beneath the counter.
“I thought you’d never come,” she sighs as she makes her way out of the cooler with a floral arrangement.
“Traffic was crazy, but I drove as fast as I could,” I tie an apron around my waist and pay my attention to an impatient man who’s tapping on the counter. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Oh, finally. I’ve only been standing here for fifteen minutes while she plays with wrapping paper,” he throws his hand in the air.
“Sorry, sir. What can I get for you?” I urge him to hurry his order along so all of the other impatient men can finally have their turn.
After three solid hours of one customer after another, we’ve finally got the lobby down to a manageable, single-file line. It is nearly 10PM before we can lock the front doors, despite the fact that the shop closed at 8:30PM.
“Oh. My. God. I didn’t think we were ever going to get those guys out of here,” I say to Kristin.
“You’re telling me,” she says, taking a drink of water from her plastic bottle. “It’s been like this almost every night. There have been a few nights where I didn’t get out of here until after midnight.”
“I’m so sorry. I feel bad for leaving you hang, but this story could change my career.”
Giggling, she takes another sip of water. “That’s why I told you who he was. I want you to go after him and publish that shit! If that doesn’t help your career take off, I don’t know what will. How are things going anyway?”
“First, let me say that I think he’s on to me.”
“What?” She asks, emptying the small trash can into a larger one. “What do you mean he’s on to you? Like he knows that you’re a journalist?”
Frowning, I shrug. “If he doesn’t know now, he will soon. I didn’t know this, but in order to work there, you have to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I haven’t signed it, and I won’t. If I sign that thing, there’s no way I can write the story.”
“Girl,” she sucks in a deep breath. “What are you going to do?”
“I turned in the blank form with the rest of my other paperwork, hoping that it would go unnoticed but I wasn’t so lucky. Apparently, he does all of the paperwork himself and he caught it right away. He brought it back to me to sign. I don’t know what to do.”
“You can’t sign it, no matter what he says. If I were you, I’d push it off as long as you can. The longer you get to work there, the more info you’ll get. If he fires you, so what? It’s not like you need the job.”
I let her words sink in for a minute, “If he fires you, so what?” Just the thought of those words makes me….sad? Disappointed? Upset? I don’t like the sound of them one bit.
Yes, I’m there for a story, but there’s this look that he gets in his eyes when he looks at me. It’s so fucking dark. Seducti
ve. It’s downright fucking sexy.
And scary. So damn scary, and I can’t help but wonder how dark he really is. What does he do with all of his time in the sex club? Surely, he can’t stay hard all night fucking all of the women down there. Does he fuck the husband’s too? Is he bi? Or did he open the club so he’d have an endless supply of pussy? There are so many questions that I have.
So many.
I kind of want to find out what he thinks about me, too. He doesn’t look at all the women how he looks at me. But I’m afraid. Afraid of what evil lurks behind those charcoal eyes of his.
Finding out might be a bigger risk than I’m already taking with getting info about him and the club, but it’s a gamble I’m willing to take.
“Yeah, but I can’t have him fire me right off the bat. I won’t learn anything.”
“So just keep putting it off anyway you can,” she says, counting down the drawer.
That’s the plan, I tell myself.
If I’m going to stay there and put off his NDA, I’m going to have to distract him from it—even if it scares the living hell out of me.
“What kind of stuff have you seen anyway?” she asks as she slides the cash drawer back inside the register. “I’ve been dying to know what goes on in a place like that.”
My cheeks heat up thinking about the things I’ve seen there in the short time I’ve worked behind the bar. “Lots of sex. It’s mostly couples and single men who come in, and there are various rooms that they can go in to,” I replay watching the couples slip inside them as I pause.
“Yeah? Do you hear them having sex? Or is the place too loud? Do you ever see what they do?”
Her attention is completely focused on me as she waits for me to divulge more information and I can feel the heat from my cheeks spreading to my ears, making them heat up. I’m sure the tips of them are cherry red.
“There’s music,” I say, “but it’s not overly loud like you’d think a club would have. It’s kind of just background noise, really.”
“And do you ever hear or see the people having sex? Do you have notes about the place that I can read?”
“Kristin!” I throw my white, linen towel at her. “You’re so nasty!”
Laughing together, we finally calm down and she puts on the most serious face I’ve ever seen, halting any signs of silliness or fun.
“Seriously. What goes on there? How do people join? What’s the scoop?”
I look around to make sure her brother, James, is nowhere around. “I’m not sure how people become members just yet, and no, you don’t usually hear any of them having sex, but you can smell the pheromones floating around.”
“So you don’t see any action at all?” she says, frowning.
“No. I mean, sometimes people will get it on out in the open, but they usually take it to a private room or something. I hear there’s a room in the back for voyeurs so that people can watch other people have sex.”
That room intrigues me the most. I want to go back there to watch—just to see—what goes on, but I don’t want anyone to see me in that room. I also don’t want any of the club members to think I’m up for grabs, and I’m not sure what the policy is as far as employees venturing the club.
“Oh, you’ve got to go back there,” she gushes. “Find out more and tell me everything! I want to vicariously live through you.”
I don’t dare tell my best friend that I found out I’m basically chasing a story after a sadist.
Part of me would like to find out more of what he’s all about, but the other part is afraid. From what Jenna told me, it sounds like he can do a number on his partners, but I also find it….intriguing.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be completely dominated, used, and overpowered.
I’ve only been with two boyfriends, and neither of them were anything like that. The guy that I lost my virginity to during my senior year of high school was in and out. He never took his time and he came pretty fast. Needless to say, the two of us didn’t last.
The other guy, I met him in college. He could last a while, but he wasn’t very dominate. Hell, if anything, I was usually the one initiating sex because he rarely ever made the first move. Then when we did have sex, he moved on the slow side, and was very careful with me. It was almost as though he treated me like a porcelain doll.
I can honestly say that up until now, I’ve never been very sexually satisfied unless I’m taking care of myself. It probably doesn’t help that neither of them ever got me off.
“I bet,” I say laughing. “I should make you come there to work with me.”
“No way!” she tosses a piece of crumpled paper at my face.
We continue talking about the club until we finish up for the night and part ways to go to our cars. Exhausted, I spare no time getting home so I can take a shower before I climb into bed because I know I have another big day ahead of me tomorrow. I have to write a piece about the Soulard Mardi Gras parade that’s coming up, and pray to God that my editor likes it, and work another full night at the club when I’m finished at the office. With the way things have been going between working at Club Kaswell and helping Kristin on my nights off while holding down eight hours at The Gateway Times, I never know whether I’m coming or going. I just hope that I can keep pushing off that NDA that Colton wants me to sign.
Chapter 9
Colton
Mr. Kaswell, your last meeting of the day is here. Should I send him in?”
I’ve been anticipating Mark’s visit all day since he called this morning. Learning all that I can about Ms. Ally has become my top priority.
“Yes, please send Mr. Pearson in,” I tell her before cradling the handset back onto the receiver. I can’t wait to see what he’s discovered.
“Colton,” he says, nodding as he sits opposite of me as we shake hands.
“Mark, thank you so much for your prompt attention. Did you find anything interesting?”
“Not really,” he says, pulling her file from his briefcase. “She seems like she’s good girl. Text book definition, too.”
“Really?” I lean forward as he slides the papers over to me.
“Yep, she graduated high school with a damn near 4.0 GPA, went to college at SLU, and excelled in all of her courses there, but one thing did stand out to me,” his voice trails off as I begin to look through her school records.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Why is she working for you if she’s doing an internship for journalism? I can’t imagine working two jobs unless she just needs the money for student loans or something, but her parents seem like they’re pretty well off.”
“What?” My head snaps up from the papers, looking him square in the eye. “What do you mean she’s on an internship for journalism?”
“That’s what her records indicate and I did some digging at The Gateway Times, and she does, in fact, write articles there.”
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath and look back up at him. “This isn’t good. She wouldn’t be working for me to pay off college loans. She’s here to get a story.”
“Now, that would make a lot of sense,” he nods in agreement. “I kind of thought that but I didn’t want to sway you in one direction or the other. The problem is, what are you going to do about it? You can’t keep letting her work for you.”
I don’t like the thought of her no longer working for me, but I can’t allow her to publish a story about me or the club.
“Is there anything else you found in the reports?” I ask him, hoping that he says no.
“Not much that I can think of,” he shakes his head. “You be careful with that girl. She’s got a pretty face and I know how you like to think.”
“How’s that?” My jaw drops open while my hand covers my chest as I act surprised.
“Like all men. Listen,” he checks his watch. “I’ve got to run but if you need anything else, let me know.”
“Will do,” I say as he bends down to pick up his brief case
. “Thanks again and have a good night.”
“I’ll try, but there’s not a whole lot of fun following around a cheating husband so I can snap pictures as proof for the wife.”
“Uh-oh, one of those cases,” I say, opening the door for him.
“Yep. She’s going to hang him out to dry in court and she wants all the evidence she can get mounted against him.”
He walks across the lobby and gets in the elevator as he waves goodbye.
“See you later, Mark.”
Returning to my office, I begin to gather my things so I can head out for the night, too. Ally’s scheduled to work in the club this evening and I want to talk to her before she clocks in to find out what her intentions are.
She could be working extra hours to pay off some of her student debt, or she could be fishing for a story to write and sell. She seems so innocent but in my experience, it’s always the innocent ones that you have to watch out for.
Heading over to the club, I think about how I’ll approach her and what I’ll say. I wish this wasn’t a Friday night because the club will packed. The last thing I want to do is make a spectacle in front of any of the members.
As I walk inside, a few of the regulars from the lounge stop me before I can walk downstairs to the club. I make the conversations quick and polite before heading to the basement.
Just as I’d suspected, the place is packed, and I see that Ally’s beaten me here. Standing under the stairwell, I casually watch her as she takes drink orders from the members.
She looks fucking fantastic with her long hair pulled into a high ponytail, and a skin tight leather jumpsuit that hugs every delicious curve of her body. The zipper stops just below her breasts, exposing her ample cleavage and I can’t help but wish the damn thing would slide down to give a good glimpse of her perfect stomach. A loose belt hangs perfectly on her hips, allowing the light to hit the rhinestones just right as she moves about the bar.
What I wouldn’t do to smack her ass in that leather and hear the sound of it pop.
