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Dmitri nodded. To most of the world, these four men appeared to be eligible bachelors, living a grand life. Each of them had been the subject of numerous magazine articles. Yet they had managed to keep their secret—each of them owned a public BDSM club. If anyone could help him, he believed, these men could. “My club is no longer safe. Even if the threat has been removed, I can’t imagine anyone feeling secure enough to play there any longer.”
“That’s understandable.” Darius adjusted his gray suit jacket.
“There will be some negativity. Though you don’t want that, that’s something you can’t help,” Micah said with a firm nod. “So, what is it exactly that you wish to do?”
“I need advice on the next steps to take. What my options are.” Dmitri swiped a hand across his eyes again, rubbing the sleepiness away. “I’d appreciate your advice.”
Ryder leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his thick chest, his defined biceps straining against his sleeves. “When we talked about Club Sin…what was it, nearly six years ago now?” At Dmitri’s nod, Ryder went on. “I figured keeping the dungeon at your house would be enough to keep it under wraps.”
Micah agreed. “I did as well.”
“Though you can never stop someone who is out for vengeance,” Gabe interjected, voice dry. “It changes the game.”
“It couldn’t be avoided.” Dmitri placed his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I do not wish any of the blame for this to land on my submissive’s shoulders.”
“That would be a pity,” Ryder acknowledged.
“So,” Dmitri said, glancing from face to face, “I’m unsure how to move Club Sin without my name being on the title, and how to keep my members safe and out of the public eye.”
“Well…” Micah studied Dmitri, tapping his fingers against the cherrywood table. “We have all gone about it differently, of course. But there is a similar thread in our stories that I’m sure you could use yourself.”
Dmitri inclined his head in gratitude. “I would appreciate the help.”
“For my club, Impulse, I bought an art gallery,” Darius explained. “It’s understandable that people would be coming there in the evenings and on weekends. The BDSM club is in the basement, but it’s not advertised. Only those in the lifestyle know of it, and new invites are thoroughly vetted.”
“Yet your name is still on the title?” Dmitri inquired.
“On the art gallery it is,” Darius continued. “But the club itself is registered as a cocktail lounge. The owner is a Dominant whom I’ve known for many years and whom I trust.”
Dmitri pondered that for a moment. “So you’ve fronted the money, but on paper he o
wns it?”
“Exactly.” Darius nodded.
Micah put in, “I set up Lace in a similar manner, with the cover being a photography studio.” He leaned back in his chair, continuing to tap his fingers on the desk. “It’s rather well known that the photographer does some fetish photography, but it gives me a way to create distance. Just because I own the building doesn’t mean I have any responsibility for what happens there.”
Dmitri considered again, thinking that’s exactly what he needed. A place from which he could distance himself but which could still be his Club Sin. “And you know the photographer well?”
“I’ve known the Dominant since my twenties,” Micah explained. “That is the most important factor, I believe. You need to make sure whoever is running things does so in the way that you would, since you are giving them control over your club.”
Gabe nodded at Micah and then addressed Dmitri. “I set up Afterglow a little differently. I went the Swiss account route and dropped money into it. Then I used that money to buy the club. The profits go back into that account. If it’s traced, my name is nowhere near the title.”
“And you hired the employees yourself at the club?” Dmitri asked.
Gabe shook his head. “The CEO is a past submissive of mine. She worked in management for a long time, so stepping into the position was perfect for her. She handles the club in its entirety. I’ve given her complete control, from design to payroll and everything in between.” His brow arched haughtily. “The rules of the club remain with me, however.”
Darius smiled at Gabe’s tone, then turned to Dmitri. “I run Masquerade much the way Gabe runs his club. I believe that is what keeps us safe. Yes, we own these clubs, but there is not enough proof that we have any involvement in them. Some of us own the buildings and some of us don’t have our names anywhere near them. But either way, we can’t be held responsible for what is done by another company in the building.”
“Besides,” Micah added, folding his arms, “if it did get out, we could play the press, answering with amusement that we didn’t know what was happening there, but we wish we had.” His mouth curved into a small smile. “The press enjoys a good story. Give them something and you’ll be fine.”
Dmitri considered what he’d heard and the men around him. He respected this group. While none of them played at their own clubs, they owned them for one very good reason—to control the BDSM community in San Francisco. More important, it helped establish a positive tone for those who live the BDSM lifestyle.
Their clubs were upscale, and members were treated well. The money they spent to maintain their clubs was in the millions. No one wanted to open a competing club, because they couldn’t possibly live up to the standards these clubs had set. And Dmitri had also learned when first meeting the DC that they owned these clubs to scout out submissives for personal play—which happened at hotels, under tight security and confidentiality agreements that would keep all parties involved silent.
These men had found a way to play safely and discreetly. Dmitri respected that and wanted it for himself.
“Seems pretty simple,” he finally said.
