by Amy Brent
“Oh my god, do you know who that is?” a voice whispered from behind me. Startled, I turned to see Regina, Denny’s secretary, standing close behind with a devious grin on her lips.
“No, who is it?”
“That’s Carina Caro something or other. She’s the Russian girl, the one who works at Club D. They call her, ‘The Girl with the Million Dollar Pussy’.”
“Who calls her that?”
“The guys,” she said. “Denny, Isaac, and Sammy.”
I gave her a sideways frown while keeping my eyes on the woman, who was practically wrapping herself around Sammy, and it didn’t look like he was trying too hard to resist.
I asked, “Club D? What’s that?”
She scoffed in my ear. “Seriously, you don’t know about Club D? Everybody knows about Club D.”
I watched the woman clutching at Sammy’s shirt, pulling him into her. Clearly, she was upset and her presence in the IDS lobby was unnerving Denny and Sammy. Denny pulled her off to the side and Sammy was trying to shield her from view.
“I’ve never heard of the place,” I said. “What is it? And who is she?”
“Club Votre Desire? Club D? It’s the private club Sammy, Denny, and Isaac own. It’s basically a high-end brothel slash freak show, and that—” she gave the woman now burying her face in Sammy’s shirt a disgusted look— “Is Carina something or other, their star attraction. Pick any hole in her body and a cock has been inside it, usually Sammy’s. Rumor has it that she is the highest paid hooker in the land.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, watching the horror unfold before my eyes as the woman started kissing Sammy and grinding her cunt into his leg right in front of everyone. Sammy had his hands on her arms, trying to push her away, I suppose, though it didn’t look like he was trying too hard.
“I’ve been Denny’s secretary for years, darling. I know everything.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Supposedly, Carina and Sammy have always been close. They sort of have a thing going, to hear Denny tell it. They usually spend the weekends together at the club. God knows how much Sammy has paid her over the years, probably more than you or I will ever make working for him. Sad, a great guy like that paying a whore for sex every weekend. Go figure.”
“Yes, go figure,” I said, trying to breathe as I watched the man I had spent the weekend with walking out the door with the Russian whore. A thick wave of nausea washed over me. I could taste vomit in my throat. When Sammy and the woman disappeared, I turned to Regina and took her hand. “Come on.”
She frowned at me. “Where are we going?”
“To my office,” I said as I dragged her toward the elevators. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about Club D.”
Chapter 20: Sammy
Boy, did my day go to hell in a handbasket quickly. By the time I got Carina out of the building, into my car, and down to the police station, our lawyer Carl was already there talking the watch commander. He had arranged to post Niko’s bail, but could do nothing about the VISA. That would be between Niko and the department of immigration.
Carina pitched a Russian fit, but she finally understood there was nothing Carl or I could do other than vouch for Niko, which Carl wasn’t willing to do given his record. Turned out, Niko was a criminal who deserved to be booted out of the country. I didn’t tell Carina that because I knew how that would go over. And I didn’t have time to deal with an insane Russian hooker, not today, not when I had lunch plans with Andrea.
“Carina, trust me, it will be fine,” I said, lying well enough to convince her to let go of my arm. I was a big, strong guy, but she had a death grip on me that I had not been able to pry loose. “Go with Carl. He’ll get Niko out on bail, then you guys make an appointment with immigration to get the VISA straightened out.”
“You are in the country legally, aren’t you?” Carl asked, giving Carina a wary eye.
“What? Of course, I am here legally, you stupid man,” she huffed and turned to look at me. “What kind of stupid question is that? Who is this idiot?”
“This is the idiot who is going to get your brother out of jail,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “Take it easy and be nice.”
She blinked at Carl with tears in her eyes. “I am sorry. Maybe you are not so much the idiot after all.”
“I’m just making sure your legal status is in order before we talk to INS about your brother,” Carl said, holding up his hands to placate her. As he took her arm to lead her away, he glared at me and growled. “I’m billing you double for the this.”
“I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t,” I said with a relieved smile. “I owe you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Wait,” Carina said, pulling her arm from Carl’s grasp. She ran to me and threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Sammy, thank you for helping me. I pay you back big time this weekend at club.”
“Okay, that sounds great,” I said, letting her hug my neck. When she released me, I turned and hurried out of the building before she could say anything else. As much as I loved spending time with Carina, I loved spending time with Andrea even more. I doubted I would ever go back to Club D or sleep with Carina again. We’d had out fun, but now, it was time to look toward the future. And my future did not include weekends with Carina at Club D. Not anymore.
Chapter 21: Sammy
It was nearly noon by the time I got back to IDS. I ducked into the cafeteria, expecting Andrea to be waiting there, but she was nowhere in sight. I tried texting, then calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail. When I got to her office, I found the door closed and the light off.
I walked over to Denny’s office and asked Regina, his secretary, if she knew where Andrea was. “Hey, have you seen Andrea?”
“Well, hello to you, too, Comrade Branniff,” Regina said, looking up with a snarky grin. “Did you take care of your little babushka?”
“Babushka means old woman,” I said, rolling my eyes and blowing my cheeks out at her. Regina was one of the few IDS employees who knew about Club D, thanks to Denny’s inability to take a shit without Regina involved. “And yes, problem solved. Have you seen Andrea?”
“Funny thing,” she said, resting her chin on her fist and narrowing her eyes at me. “Andrea saw your little international incident down in the lobby, then got very interested in who the woman was and why she was hanging onto you like a bloodsucking tick on a very large dog.”
I glared at her. “What did you tell her?”
Regina smiled the smile of a woman who knew a secret and loved the power it gave her. “Oh, I just told her all about your little fun house in the mountains and how that charming young woman was the star attraction of the freak show.”
Fuck! If she had been a dude I would have flattened her right then and there. My fingers flexed into fists at my sides. My nostrils flared like a mad bull’s. I resisted the urge to throw her through the window behind her. “What else did you tell her?”
“I might have said something about you doing everything you could to build good relations with Russia.” She started to smile. She had no idea what she had done. “Relax, Sammy, your secret’s safe. Denny trusts her completely. She’s not going to say anything.”
“Regina,” I said as calmly as I could.
She was still smiling, clueless. “Yes?”
“You’re a fucking cunt!”
As I stomped away, I could have sworn that I heard her chin drop all the way to her desk. She’d probably file a complaint with HR, but I didn’t care.
All I cared about was finding Andrea and telling her the truth.
Whatever that truth happened to be.
Chapter 22: Andrea
Wow, did I feel like a total fool...
I thought Sammy Branniff was this great, caring guy who was single only because he spent way too much time building a billion-dollar company while ignoring his personal life.
That’s how Denny sold
it.
Poor Sammy.
He’d worked so hard for so long and just never had time to meet a nice girl.
Well, why would you worry about meeting a nice girl when you owned a FUCKING WHOREHOUSE!!
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no prude. And I know a girl has to make a living anyway she can, but Jeez Louise… I never suspected that the potential man of my dreams might be a fucking pimp! The man of my dreams was now a fucking nightmare! Maybe I should have asked him where that thing had been before letting him shove it inside me…. EW!!!
I tried to be cool as Regina told me all about Club D, spilling the beans on everything Denny—who, turned out, couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it—had told her.
Club Votre Desire was actually a secluded estate in the hills north of the city staffed by dozens of beautiful women who were there just to pleasure the rich men who paid millions of dollars to become members and millions more to have their way with the girls.
Sammy, Isaac, and Denny started the place as their own private sandbox and regularly had their way with the girls. The girl in the lobby, the gorgeous Carina, was Sammy’s favorite. Denny said Sammy always capped off the weekend by going to Carina’s suite and didn’t come out till late on Monday morning.
The thought of Sammy having sex with her made my stomach churn.
Again, I’m no prude and I try not to judge, though sometimes I fail miserably. Like now. If a woman chooses to make her living peddling her pussy that’s fine with me, but I am not a fan of the men who take advantage of such girls, especially the pimps that use and abuse the girls for their own sexual pleasure and monetary gain.
Did Isaac, Denny, and Sammy not have enough money?
Did they really need to make a few extra bucks on the backs of these poor girls?
No matter how fancy the place was it was still a whorehouse and she was a whore and Sammy was her pimp. Period. End of story.
I didn’t know how I would ever face Sammy or Denny again.
Or how I could go back to IDS.
Dammit, I couldn’t in good conscience continue working for them, not now, not knowing the kind of horrible men they really were.
When Regina finished dishing up the dirt, and giggling all the way through like it was no big deal, I thought the bagel I’d scarfed down for breakfast was going to come back up and show itself all over her desk.
“You don’t look well,” she said with a concerned look. “Are you okay?”
“Too much vino this weekend,” I said, putting my hand to my mouth to stifle a vomit burp. “I’m going to take the day off. Please tell Denny I’ll call him later.”
I grabbed my purse and managed to get out of the building without having to talk to anyone else. I drove straight home, locked the door, took off my clothes, and got down on my knees in front of the toilet, waiting for the nausea to ease or my stomach to erupt. After a few minutes, my stomach settled down a bit, but I still felt like crap, so I crawled back into bed.
It made me nauseous again because the bed reeked of sex, of Sammy, of our weekend together.
I pulled the covers over my head and buried my face in his pillow.
I knew it was too good to be true.
Damn you, Sammy Branniff.
How dare you make me feel this way?
Chapter 23: Sammy
Andrea wouldn’t answer her phone or come to the door. I rang the bell again and again and again and finally, when she didn’t answer, pounded my fist on to door so hard it shook the hinges. I was about to knock on the door again when my phone buzzed. It was Andrea.
“Andrea? What’s going on?”
“Please stop beating on my door,” she said. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was not happy with me. Her voice was calm, but ice cold and stern. “If you don’t go away immediately, I will call the police and have you arrested.”
“I know you talked to Regina. It’s not what you think.”
“I’m sure it’s exactly what I think,” she said.
“Can I at least have two minutes to try to explain?” I asked, leaning my forehead against the door. “Please. Let me in and I’ll—”
“You can go to your whorehouse and get your Russian girlfriend to comfort you,” she said. “I don’t want to speak to you ever again.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I said with a heavy sigh. “She’s just a friend. She needed my help. Please, let me in. Let me explain.”
“Please go away, Mr. Branniff or I will call the police.”
I took a deep breath and said her name. “Andrea?”
“What?”
I stepped back from the door to check out the lock. There was a key lock in the knob and a deadbolt above it. Piece of cake for my size 15’s.
I asked, “Have you seen how big I am? And I’m not talking about the size of my… you know…”
She paused for a moment. I could hear her breathing in my ear, but she didn’t say anything.
“Do you really want to have to have this door replaced?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Are you sure I wouldn’t?”
I waited ten seconds… fifteen... twenty…
Finally, she huffed, “Fine, you have two minutes.”
“That’s all I need,” I said.
When she hung up the phone I exhaled a long sigh of relief and waited for the door to open, wondering how I was going to make her understand that Club D—and Carina—were now just part of my past.
Chapter 24: Andrea
Sammy had a pitiful look on his face when I opened the door. I’d seen pitiful looks on men before. It did nothing to sway the foulness of my mood or my opinion of what he’d done.
I nodded and he came inside. I closed the door and led him to the living room. I sat on one end of the couch with my knees tucked up and my arms around them. I was wearing a robe and the panties I’d worn to bed. I pulled the robe down over my legs to make sure I was covered. I was in no mood to fool around at the moment and my expression let him know it.
“So, the girl you saw at IDS, her name is Carina, she is a friend,” he said, sounding very much like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Her brother had been arrested and his VISA had expired. She’s Russian and freaked out. I guess over there if you get arrested sometimes you spend months in prison awaiting trial, so—”
“I don’t care,” I said, shrugging at him.
He blinked like a stiff wind had blown into his eyes. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t care about your Russian girlfriend or her brother.”
“Okay…” He stared at me for a moment, then rubbed his chin. “So, why exactly are you so pissed off?”
“You’re a pimp.” I said it as if it were a proven fact, with a voice full of harsh judgment, which bothered me a little because I could hear my mother in my voice. She hated everything and everyone. And was the queen of the snap judgment. I did my best not to be like her, but sometimes it was hard. Like right now. I added, “And that girl is one of your prostitutes.”
He smiled just slightly, as if I’d told a joke without realizing it. “Is that what Regina told you?”
“Regina told me enough,” I said. “It was clear watching the two of you that something was going on there. Clearly, you are not just friends.”
“Fine, call us friends with benefits,” he said, frustration in his deep voice. “Yes, she works at Club D as a Specialist, but—”
“A what?”
“A Specialist,” he said, exhaling loudly.
“What is a Specialist?”
“A Specialist is an escort with special… talents.”
“Oh god, please don’t tell me what they are,” I said quickly, huffing while holding up my hands to shut him up. “I saw the way she wrapped herself around you like a boa constrictor. I can imagine what her special skills entail.”
“You probably couldn’t,” he said, glancing away. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is she is
just a friend.”
“A friend with benefits.”
“Yes.”
“That you pay to have sex.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“That’s not a friend with benefits,” I said, smirking at him. “That’s a prostitute and a john.”
“Whatever. The point is—"
“The point is,” I said, cutting him off. “She is a ‘Specialist’ who works at your whorehouse that you fuck when you’re there.” I put air quotes around the word Specialist because I felt stupid using the word in such a way.
“It’s not a whorehouse,” he said, anger tinging his voice now. “It’s a private club where wealthy men go to enjoy themselves without worrying about the public or TMZ watching.”
