by Tina Donahue
A steady clicking caught Nikki’s attention. She finally recognized it as a woman’s heels tapping on the floor, moving in this direction. Mitch’s secretary? Did she work here too? Did she have final approval on how the female performers looked?
Nikki’s frown fell away at the young black woman who approached. Surprisingly tall, probably six-one in her spike heels, she was jaw-dropping gorgeous. Curly black hair dangled over her shoulders, complementing her fawn-colored complexion. Her halter dress, seafoam green and breezy, fluttered around her curves, which she had in abundance. Nikki tried hard not to stare. It wasn’t easy given that the woman’s eyes were the same color as her dress and absolutely breathtaking.
“Hey, you must be Nikki.” Her mild Southern drawl added to her effortless charm. She smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “I’m Shoshana, the manager. Mitch asked me to show you around.”
Did he? She’d used his name with so much friendship and intimacy, Nikki’s stomach twisted. It was one thing to consider that Mitch and Connor dated, having fun as they should. It was another to learn that they might have found with Shoshana what they’d once had with her, a bond that should have been nurtured, not broken.
At her prolonged silence, Shoshana asked, “You are Nikki, right?”
Unfortunately. She flashed a smile she didn’t feel and shook the woman’s hand. It was delicate and soft, her grip firm as perfect as the rest of her. “Nice to meet you. Is Mitch here? Is Connor?”
“They might be by later. Sometimes they show up. Sometimes they don’t. They trust we’ll all behave.” She leaned close enough for Nikki to catch a whiff of the classic Chanel fragrance she wore, then spoke conspiratorially. “As much as one can in a place like this, you know?”
Given the costumes, Nikki had a fair idea. “When do the other women show up?” Would they be as exquisite as Shoshana? No wonder Mitch and Connor had been reluctant to let her do this.
“They’ll be here shortly. Come on, I’ll show you around.” She flicked the light switch in the women’s dressing room. Vanity bulbs blazed around each of the many mirrors, creating enough light to accentuate every flaw.
Nikki refused to think about hers. “Was it Connor’s idea for it to be so bright in here?”
“Actually, it was mine. I own a stake in the place, the same as him and Mitch. We succeed or fail together. And just in case you’re wondering, the ladies who work here are proud of their bodies. They celebrate their sexuality, no different from men. Many are using the money they make to fund start-up businesses or pay for their degrees. Why be saddled with a pile of debt if you can graduate free of all that, especially if you’re enjoying it?”
She owned a stake in the place? God, she had to be involved with them to have deserved that.
“You do your own makeup here,” Shoshana explained, walking backward toward the costume rack. “If you’re having trouble your first night, one of the other ladies will help you.”
Nikki ran her fingers over the cups of a leather bustier that was incredibly soft and shamelessly constructed with half-cups designed to reveal a woman’s nipples. Next to it hung a diaphanous white cape, long enough to cover a female from throat to toes. “How do the servers and performers know what to wear?”
“Everything depends upon the room you’re going to be working in.” She led Nikki back to the hall and to a grand stairway reminiscent of the one Rhett had carried Scarlett upwhen he’d had enough of her whining and demanded some down-and-dirty sex. There were chandeliers, antique furnishings and marble everywhere, just like in a palace.
Taking the first step, Shoshana said, “Time for you to see the business end of the club.”
Apparently, they kept it well hidden. The website had scores of tasteful close-ups showing female eyes, mouths, the curve of a breast, a glimpse of a naked hip and ass, but little else. Nikki asked the obvious. “If it’s upstairs, what’s down here?”
“Areas where the guys can relax and have a drink or a smoke and shoot the bull, just like in a regular men’s club. There’s also a dining room for dinner service until midnight. We’re a five-star establishment, by the way. Best steaks and seafood in Atlanta. Of course, we’ve found most patrons use their meals to hook up with other couples before moving to the Garden Room.”
“You have a conservatory here?”
Shoshana laughed, a light, melodic sound. “No.” She reached the landing and headed to the left. “By Garden Room we mean Garden of Eden, or our version of it.”
Nikki nodded absently, her full attention on the expansive hall. It was wider than her parents’ home and decorated with more antiques, from pricey side tables to elegant hand-painted vases bearing arrangements of gardenias, lilies, orchids and roses. Even Ty’s victims in the Hamptons hadn’t lived this well. At the end of the hall were a set of carved double doors the color of snow.
“The Virgin Room,” Shoshana announced. She pushed open the doors and flicked a switch.
Hundreds of flameless candles, identical to the ones Nikki had seen in the downstairs hall, flickered to life, bathing the ample space in a pale, dreamy glow. The scent of honeysuckle and carnations reminded her of a wedding or church service.
This place was light years away from either event. White leather sofas and wingchairs, casually arranged around the periphery of the room, provided an excellent view of what was in the center. A platform upon which stood a four-poster bed with sheer panels draped over the top and cascading down each side. From the middle of the canopy hung velvet-covered cuffs. At the head and foot of the bed were more shackles—both menacing and exciting—resting on the frosty linens. Nikki made a wild guess. “The performers simulate a virgin being taken?”
“She’s bid on and purchased first to create the ultimate experience, with simulate being the operative word. If the patrons want more reality, they can always look at the film.”
“In one of the guy areas downstairs?”
“In here.” She flicked another switch.
Projected onto the back wall was one of Connor’s movies. Nikki’s mouth sagged open. She stepped closer. The images had a dated look about them, not exactly black-and-white, more brown-and-cream. There was no sound. It wasn’t necessary. Connor had used close-ups of the virgin’s lust-glazed eyes, her lips parting in expectation to tell his story.
She wore feathers and glitter on the top half of her face, a kind of mask to obscure her features. The sheer cape Nikki had seen in the dressing room covered her, though not for long. Nude and defenseless, she submitted dutifully as a servant dressed in period garb positioned her on her knees, thighs parted, her wrists secured to the overhead cuffs, reducing her to a chaste captive offered to the men. They wore way-back-when clothing and raised their hands to bid on her.
A particularly good-looking dude won and disrobed. Nikki forced down a swallow. The guy was really hung, his cock simply beautiful, thick and rigid, rising proudly from a nest of dark curls. On the bed, he settled himself beside her, his weighty balls tight to his body, hands on her thighs, parting them even more, exhibiting her to the men who’d lost the chance to use her flesh. With arrogance befitting a winner, he cupped her breast in one hand while his other sought her cunt.
Whatever the girl thought or felt at his bold move, it didn’t matter. There was no escape.
The camera zoomed in on her mound, her blonde pubic hair trimmed short so her new master and the audience could see her plump vaginal lips, the silky moisture streaming from her channel. Her master bent down to suckle one of her nipples while his fingers teased her opening, traveling the length of it, sliding inside her—
“Whoa. What happened?” Nikki blurted as the film went off.
Shoshana murmured, “It’s time we moved on to the Garden Room.”
Nikki bit back a protest and followed Shoshana down the hall to another set of double doors the color of honey.
Lush plants, ferns and flowers adorned this new area. It smelled of rain, damp earth and vegetation—as primitive as th
e Virgin Room was frothy. There were green and gold candles in a variety of sizes, a gurgling fountain and long couches in amber-colored leather wide enough to hold several people.
On the room’s back wall another of Connor’s films played, this one in full living color. The performers in it wore gold body paint and glitter with green leaves pasted to various parts of their anatomy, making them look like a Vegas version of Adam and Eve. In this scene, three men were taking one woman, their cocks filling her mouth, cunt and anus. In another shot, two women were tending to one man, the dark-haired girl licking his sac, the blonde his meaty rod.
Air hissed through Nikki’s teeth.
“We only allow couples in this room,” Shoshana explained. “They can play on the couches with whomever they want. Another couple or several couples.”
“What about the staff?” Did they join in?
Shoshana grew serious. “The staff gets involved only if they’re here on their nights off and with a date. While they’re working at Wicked, they stay focused on their jobs—serving the patrons’ drinks, lighting their cigarettes or cigars and for some, performing in one of the many shows. We do have simulated sex acts between our Adams and Eves in this room to get things going. But again, it’s playacting, nothing more.” She turned off the candles.
“Where to now?” Nikki asked.
“The BDSM Room.”
She caught the sexy scent of leather and jasmine even before Shoshana opened the doors. Tall black candles were everywhere, trying to eat away the shadows. They flickered on the dark scarlet furniture, ebony walls, plush leather sofas and chairs. An exceedingly masculine and formidable room.
On the wall manacles hung, their steel contours glinting in the available light. Next to them, just begging for a master’s use, were whips and straps. Where the bed had stood in the Virgin’s Room and the fountain in the garden one, here there was a simple frame, a kind of scaffold, with a number of eyebolts, chains, belts and manacles at varying levels, those on top meant to hold a woman’s wrists, the remainder for her ankles, waist and thighs, securing her for punishment.
That wasn’t the end of it. From the top of the frame hung a leather collar, added insurance to keep her confined and submissive to whatever her master meted out.
Another of Connor’s films played on the back wall, showing her just what that might be. The young woman, fully nude, wore one of the leather masks Nikki had seen in the dressing room. It hid the upper half of her face, leaving everything beneath her nose exposed. Shackles held her wrists and ankles. Belts were around her waist and thighs, the leather collar about her throat. She cried out silently in what seemed to be bliss as a young man wearing a similar mask administered his discipline with a broad strap. The leather cut across her ample buttocks, whipping around the top of her thigh, then sliding down it. In slo-mo, the scene played, the strap’s movement hypnotic.
Once more, Shoshana leaned close, murmuring as one would in a sacred place. “In addition to the performer chained to the center frame, we lock several other girls in those manacles on the wall, their nudity exposed for all to see and enjoy.”
Nikki couldn’t stop staring at the punishment administered in the film. She imagined the strap whistling through the air, its crack upon making contact with the young woman’s ass, the glorious heat that followed, not unlike a killer orgasm. “Are those other girls punished too?”
“Only if they agree to it. If they prefer to act as waitstaff, that’s fine with us. Even if a client requests that a girl be spanked, there’s an extra service charge involved and no client ever touches one of our ladies. We only allow male performers to do so. The girls are compensated well for the extra action and they aren’t harmed in the least. The spanking is mild and completely erotic.”
Nikki’s head swam at the thought of being so completely shackled, Mitch and Connor observing her as they had in the office, then both of them taking turns whipping her buttocks, making her wet for their stiffened rods.
Shoshana continued, “There are other rooms for same sex couples, individuals with fetishes and areas where our young ladies dance nude, similar to what a man would expect in a typical gentlemen’s club. For now though, I think you’ve seen enough.”
Not true. This place was beyond any of Nikki’s wildest fantasies, Connor’s films all that Mitch had promised and more. “Where will I be working tonight?”
“It’s your choice.”
Nikki regarded the frame, those daunting yet fascinating eyebolts, manacles, belts and collar. “Where do Mitch and Connor most often go when they do show up?”
Shoshana studied her thoughtfully, whatever she was thinking well hidden. Nikki figured if she’d been any other new hire, the young woman would have laid down the law. She was here to serve the patrons, not to seduce the bosses. However, she wasn’t the typical new girl, was she? Connor and Mitch had told Shoshana about her, what she’d done. Nikki sensed it in the lingering silence and increasing tension.
Shoshana’s tepid smile did nothing to break it. “After a hard day at the office, most men don’t want to have to work for their pleasure.”
No, they did not. Nikki thought of the rooms she’d seen, those incredible films playing. The virgin submitting obediently to the man whose bid had won her for the evening, her parted legs inviting him to do whatever he willed. And the more experienced woman in the leather mask, chained for punishment, her body bathed in perspiration, the same as the guy who wielded the strap.
A tingling sensation dashed up Nikki’s spine to the back of her head. Following Shoshana downstairs, she knew where she wanted to work tonight. Where she had to in order to see Mitch and Connor again.
Chapter Four
Alone in Shoshana’s office, Connor faced the bank of monitors showing the specialty rooms on the second floor. It was barely eight o’clock and the club was already packed. Men’s voices dominated, their conversations lively, punctuated with laughter, at times rising above the music playing in the various areas.
Chopin and Rachmaninov filled the Virgin Room, the classical sounds appropriate to a period when pirates captured young maidens, selling their virginal flesh or taking them against their will. In the Garden Room, drums beat seductively, adding to its primal allure. Heavy metal predominated in the BDSM Room with selections from Iron Maiden, Metallica and other bands, as long as they were loud and throbbing.
Some of the patrons strolled from area to area, not yet certain of their preference. All watched the attractive servers and performers already on the floor. At the beginning of this venture, Connor recalled how he’d also stared at the females, astounded by their sensuous good looks. Many had come onto him. He’d never dated a one of them, uncertain whether they liked the man he was or coveted the wealth he and Mitch had accumulated.
What a bummer. Here he was surrounded by all this bounty, yet still as isolated as he’d been in school when the cool girls had treated him and Mitch fucking bad because of how they’d lived, their home life a nightmare.
At least now it was better. Sort of.He smiled sardonically. As the owners of this club and other businesses, they could live better than most, but they were still the ultimate pariahs. Atlanta’s good citizens might enjoy frequenting Wicked, but none of them were going to ask the Ward brothers to join them at one of their country club parties. Nor would they be inviting Nikki as they might have in the past.
Where is she? Earlier, Shoshana had confirmed that Nikki was here, preparing for the evening.
“What room is she going to be in?” he’d asked.
Shoshana arched one slender brow. Not exactly a chastisement, but near enough. As close friends, he, she and Mitch had shared many a liquor-fueled evening spilling too much information about their pasts. She seemed to be thinking about that as she murmured, “At this point, let’s say it’s a surprise.”
Nikki showing up at all was stunning. Connor had honestly believed she’d chicken out and would take off, leaving him and Mitch without apology or regret.
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“She did seem eager to start,” Shoshana added.
She wouldn’t last long.Most likely, she wouldn’t make it through the night. Regarding the Virgin Room, Connor sensed she’d be working there since it was relatively tame compared to the other areas. He cursed the monitors’ black-and-white screens. They should have opted for color, no matter the extra cost.
Unable to spot Nikki’s auburn hair, he scanned the servers’ bodies for her identifying features…the diamond belly jewelry, that mole near her navel, the small scar on her knee, the curve of her ass, the long tips of her nipples. Characteristics seared into Connor’s memory, her nudity in Mitch’s office not something he’d forget.
Adjusting the cameras’ positions, he leaned closer and scanned a number of female forms, including the babe on the four-poster, her wrists cuffed above her head. Hardly the greatest actress, she looked far less vulnerable than Nikki had when she’d stripped. If Mitch hadn’t caught his arm then, Connor wasn’t certain what he would have done. Touched her most likely, giving her some BS about it being his job to see if her cunt was as soft and smooth as it looked, if her ass was as firm, her lips as supple, molding to his, yielding.
He recalled her magnolia scent and imagined how she’d taste, her mouth all wet and warm, her tongue bearing a hint of peppermint toothpaste. Beneath his hands, her muscles would tremble slightly, her skin growing moist. She’d moan. He’d groan. They’d behave like the teens they’d once been. At least in his dumb fantasies.
“Where the hell are you?” he muttered. His attention jumped from screen to screen.
She wasn’t dancing nude in the areas set up for that, nor was she in any of the fetish zones. Had she somehow wandered into the same sex territories? Frowning, he studied the spaces. Nope, she wasn’t in any of them. He concentrated again on the Virgin Room until something in the corner of his eye caught his interest…a brief flash or sparkle. Not from one of the many candles. Oh no.
