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Before making my way back to my office, I did a round through the back hallway, taking count of the private rooms reserved for the night. It’s no surprise we’re fully booked. Some by the hour, some the entire night. It depends on the guest’s needs and their heavy wallets. Each member is allowed an allocated time in the private rooms to do as they wish. If they want more time, they pay. And a steep price at that.
Fredrick hands me the list of attendees, and I scroll down to see the usual suspects. A few names are old to the club, but new to the private rooms. Some members take longer than others to take advantage of the full amenities. It’s a place where people learn more about their likes and dislikes. Where they discover things about themselves that may have been festering deep inside them for years until making their way inside those doors.
Bondage and discipline are an acquired taste for some. For few, they learn of it when they become a member of Exquisite. A deep love for something inside them they never knew existed. Submitting and dominating is in us all, and it’s here you learn who you want to be. The private rooms are stocked with anything from a simple bed for privacy to a wall full of tools and objects to help satisfy one’s sexual needs.
With the changing of the songs, I lift my wrist to check the time. It’s almost nine o’clock. The anticipation to see if the girl shows has had me on edge all day. A part of me hopes she doesn’t. I know I’m playing with fire, but I’m also not one to walk away from a good challenge. The moment my fingers were deep inside her, I knew I wasn’t going to turn away from her. The little whimpers that left those bare lips of hers proved to me she was as innocent as they came. And I wanted nothing more than to break that innocence into pieces—show her naïve mind what the big bad world was really made of. Her scent of vanilla and purity filled my office as she came on my fingers. I almost took her into a private room right then, but with patience, comes reward. And all I needed was one night to get exactly what I wanted: her innocence.
The reward, however, will dull fast. She’ll be out of my hair by morning, and I’ll find another toy to play with until I get bored and move on. I’ve even thought about denying her the contract. For business, it’s not smart to hand over something as important as the company’s binding contract. If that got into the wrong hands, it would be bad for the club. I didn’t allow her to leave before signing her own. I needed her to be aware of what she was in for. The fear, confusion, curiosity—it all showed on her face while she read it. I had to hide how hard my dick got at each expression. Whoever this friend was meant something to her, and as much as she wanted to run, I knew she’d come back and do whatever it was I asked of her.
The package I sent over arrived about an hour ago. A black dress that would leave her back completely exposed. Her body was lacking the curves I prefer, but the dress will complement her slender frame. There was one item I requested when having my personal assistant shop and send over the package: a tube of deep red lipstick. In the card stuffed inside the box was a request for her lips to be painted red. Though…it was more of a requirement than a request.
I have plans for those lips. Oh, do I.
I check my watch again, just as it hits one minute to nine. I wasn’t bluffing when I told her not to be late. She will be on time or our deal is off. I’m not a forgiving man when it comes to not following directions. I pull my phone out to call Fredrick to give him orders to deny her when she shows at the door when I spot her racing past the bar. I lower my phone, intrigued by her persistence to get through the packed crowd. I try to get a look at her attire, but she’s weaving in and out of people too quickly. My eyebrows go up as she attempts to pass a group of men who give her trouble. When she drops down to the ground in her twelve-hundred-dollar Valentino dress and crawls under them, my lips crack into a smile. “Who is this girl?”
She disappears into the crowd, and I know she’s made it into the back hallway that leads to my private elevator. The clock on my wrist strikes three-after-nine when the knock sounds on my door. I’m not given the opportunity to offer entrance before arguing blasts from the other side and the door flies open.
