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It was the strangest thing Valentina had ever seen.
“Good evening!” they chanted in unison. “Welcome, Master.”
They were all identically dressed in short, hand-sewn, black silk dresses. Their hair and makeup all matched perfectly, and they even wore the same genuinely eager expressions. Altogether, they were a breathtaking sight to behold.
“You may rise,” Daniels said. Five of the ladies disappeared soundlessly, like genies returning to their lamps.
One woman remained on the floor.
“We’ll have a bottle of Swarovski Alizé,” Ethan said.
The girl didn’t move.
“Dismissed.”
Like the others, the woman floated away noiselessly.
“What is Alizé?” asked Valentina when the woman left. She noticed awkwardly there was nowhere to sit. There were cushions scattered about the floor and a cloth-covered table in the middle of the room.
“Normally, it’s a cheap vodka drink that Tupac Shakur made famous,” he replied. “Eminem and Justin Timberlake put it in their videos.”
Valentina frowned. It seemed a little low-brow for Ethan Daniels’s tastes. She would have pegged him as an opera-goer, not a hip-hop fanatic. It was nice to know there was a more everyday side to the man. As if this place could be called ‘everyday’, by any means.
“What we’re getting is a special Valentine’s Day blend,” he explained. “Vodka, cognac, passion fruit, strawberry, lychee, and rose extract. It actually tastes pretty good. It comes in a Swarovski crystal bottle.”
“That sounds kind of delicious,” Valentina admitted.
“Bah, you Americans and your vodka,” Bastian said. “You can’t convince me that there is any occasion that isn’t made better with champagne. Anyway, let us sit!”
Before they could take their places on the scattered cushions, the server returned with a pink, crystal-studded carafe that was a work of art in itself.
“Your drink, sirs.” The woman bowed slightly, and then in one fluid motion, she was on her knees before Ethan, her forehead pressed to the floor.
“Shall I pour your beverages?” she asked quietly.
“No. You are dismissed.”
Before Valentina could blink, she was gone.
Ethan didn’t bother to open the libation. He closed the coral-colored cabana curtain and tied it with a satin rope from the inside for privacy. Valentina noticed there were scores of other velvet ropes and silk scarves hanging inconspicuously about the room. They had been arranged innocuously to look like part of the decor, but there were also leather belts and riding crops among them, too. Wax candles winked expectantly from every corner, waiting like little kittens wanting to play.
The men began to sit so she followed their lead, but Bastian held up a hand to stop her.
“Not you,ma chérie. You stay just where you are.”
Valentina looked at them, confused, as she stood before them awkwardly. There were plenty of cushions; why couldn’t she sit down too? “Take off your dress, Valentina,” Ethan directed abruptly. A cherry stain crept up her neck and settled on her cheeks.
“Ex…Excuse me?”
“He said, take off your dress.” Bastian smiled, but even that didn’t reassure her in the moment, as she realized that all her suspicions were true.
“What about the waitress?” she stuttered, grasping for a way out of the situation.
“She is not a waitress,” Ethan grated. She is a highly trained, professional massage therapist. She is also an expert in sadomasochism.”
“Oh.”
“She will return if I call for her.”
