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“I’m afraid I can’t share that with you. Sorry.”
She looked down at her hands. “All right, B. I would like to stress that Club Silk is an oasis for its members. People come here for many reasons. But one thing they all have in common is a desire to have their privacy protected. Just like you hope for, I assume?”
“Yes, I expect my privacy to be protected.” I nodded.
“Then you will verbally agree to never speak of the club when you are beyond its walls. If you see someone outside whom you know from the club, you will not acknowledge them. You will not ask anyone’s real name, nor share yours. You’ll see that many of the members wear masks. You will respect their desire to keep their faces hidden. All sexual activity—from light touching to full-on intercourse—is completely consensual. You can count on never being pressured by anyone to do anything.” She smiled and sat back in her seat.
“Of course, there may be interested parties who will endeavor to seduce you. We all know and enjoy the thrill of the chase,” she added.
Damn right.
But hold on, cowgirl. You’re here for work, first.
“May I ask you some questions now?” I ventured.
“You may,” she said with a slow nod.
“Is this your place? How long have you had it?”
“B. You will learn all that and more over a period of time as you get to know the club and its members.” She stood. Should I stand, too? “Now, I’ll leave you to explore on your own. If you ever need anything, please let me know.”
That seemed to be the end of that conversation.
She floated away to greet someone who’d just arrived, her green dress swirling around her lower legs. The new guest was in profile, but wore a full-face mask.
Geez, what was he hiding from?
But more importantly, where could a cool mask like that be found?
I spotted a staircase in the far corner and headed over to it, not wanting to look like a loser sitting all by my lonesome. I needed to get the lay of the land and collect as much detail as I could, as quickly as I could.
Crossing the room, I noticed both male and female heads turning, checking me out. Probably because I was a new face? Or rather, a new ass?
At the top of the stairs, where there was even less light than the first floor, I was offered a glass of champagne. I had to drink slowly to keep my wits about. A woman wearing a red dress and high heels sat on a cushy sofa. I made a beeline for her.
Maybe she’d be friendly.
“May I sit here?”
“Of course.” She patted the se
at next to her as she looked up at me. “You’re new here.”
She was stunning. Black bobbed hair, green eyes, her full lips smeared with nothing more than a neutral gloss.
Note to self: get to Sephora for some new makeup tips.
“Yup. It’s my first time.”
The woman extended her hand. “I’m P.” She held up her champagne glass for a toast.
“I’m B. I’m never gonna keep these one-letter names straight.”
P laughed. “Don’t worry. No one does.” She took a long draw on the last of her champagne and looked around for the server.
“What brought you here?” P asked.
“Oh, I was just curious I guess.”
