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“Good evening, Mr. Black.” Everyone had a code name. Once you got on the elevator, your anonymity kicked in. Eric was known as Mr. Black. Most of the names that La Porte Noir used were codes of classification. In reality, there are twenty Mr. Blacks, fifteen Mr. Coals…as in charcoal, thirty five Mr. Grays and thirty Mr. Whites. The names are based on the clients frequency and membership. La Porte Noir is strictly members only. You can only be invited for membership by another higher ranking member. Eric is a high ranking member in good standing, making at least ten visits a month.
This wasn’t the kind of gentleman’s club where business deals were made. This facility was about self satisfaction. The only deals being made here were arranged prior to the members' arrival. There were no girls on the center stage, or buckets of hot wings. This was more like very expensive therapy.
He had heard about this place from a patient. His patient cited the reason their marriage was falling apart was because her husband was spending most of his free time and money on whores and strippers. Eric wasn’t sure how she knew this was where her husband was coming, because he never saw anyone else when he checked in. There were no servers, and the only stripping was done in private, upon request.
Once you were inside your suite, your therapist took over. Everything was so perfectly orchestrated, you never saw two clients in the hall. When a client
was ready to leave, the therapist alerted the concierge and she made sure the hall was clear and the client’s car was waiting the moment they exited the elevator.
“Good evening, Portia.” She handed him a short, crystal glass filled with two fingers of liquid. He sniffed the contents and inhaled the fine cognac aromas. He took a sip, tossed his head back and sighed. “I needed that.”
She looked at her iPad. “I see you’ve booked a session with Jasmine.” He nodded. “She’s waiting in suite fifteen.”
“Thank you.” He shook her hand and left a fifty dollar bill in her grasp.
“Thank you, and enjoy your evening.” He finished his drink and placed it on the table next to her.
He walked down the stairs, noting the door numbers. On the nights Eric was feeling a little tense, he would come here for some stress relief. This was a sweet setup. In all the time Eric had been coming to La Porte Noir, he never saw anyone else. For all he knew, there was no one else, just Jasmine.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The room was beautiful, as brothels went. No matter how upscale it looked, it was still a brothel. The walls were in the same matte black finish paint. There was a black velvet sofa off to the side, with a black lacquer coffee table in front of it. He was always amazed at how these rooms looked more like luxury hotel suites than what they really were…sex dens. The only thing not black were the bed linens. The black lacquered four poster bed was dressed in very expensive white sheets. He knew that because he saw the same sheets at Bloomingdales, and was shocked to see how much they cost. He liked the feel so much, he bought a set.
He scanned the room looking for Jasmine, but didn’t see her. He started to take his jacket off and felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He didn’t need to turn around. He recognized her parfum. The spicy floral scent was like a sedative for him. She eased his jacket down his arms, and hung it up in the closet. She walked back and slipped her hands around his waist and inside his pants.
“Seems you’re ready for our session,” she hummed. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. The more she enticed him, the more excited he got. Tonight, he didn’t need to be worked up. Olivia had done a good job of that.
“Get on your back.”
There was no politeness, just business. Neither of them was here because of an affection towards one another. She was a service he purchased, and all he cared about was getting what he paid for. If he wanted intimacy, he’d get a girlfriend. But he had one, and for whatever reason, she wasn’t ready or didn’t want to sleep with him. He was frustrated more than normal tonight and he wasn’t leaving until every ounce of frustration was gone. He stripped down, walked over to the bed with fire in his eyes and dove hard and fast inside Jasmine.
When he looked at Jasmine, he saw Olivia and his frustration grew. He pushed harder and deeper inside her. He may have been angry and frustrated with Olivia, but he was even more angry with himself, because he was falling for Olivia, and that wasn’t part of his plan. She was just supposed to be a gateway to the next level. But here he was developing feelings for her.
He pushed harder and felt Jasmine tensing up. She cried out with each push. Finally, he caught up to her and for the first time, they finished together.
He collapsed on top of her while still holding her hands down. Breathing hard, he lay there for a few moments, and then rolled over onto his back. She got up, cleaned herself up and came back and cleaned him up and handed him a drink.
“Rough day, darling?”
He sipped his drink. “Yeah.” He rubbed his head and took another sip.
“Hungry?”
Of all the women he had slept with, Jasmine was his favorite. He thought about trying a different girl at the club, but he genuinely liked Jasmine. Although this was strictly a business relationship, he liked her. She was that hooker with a heart of gold.
“No.”
“Want to talk?”
He climbed out of bed, put a robe on, walked over to the sofa and sat down. She sat across from him in the petite armchair and crossed her legs.
He took another sip. “It’s my girlfriend.” She nodded. “I can’t get a read on her. I’ve been giving her time and not pushing her. I thought tonight we were finally going to make love and…”
“She changed her mind.”
“Stopped before anything happened and told me to leave.”
“That’s not good.”
“I know.”
