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Bellamy smiles. “It’s complicated.”
I never ask for details when someone tells me it’s complicated. I just believe them. We step into the room just as three naked women begin placing food on another woman’s body. Someone in the entrance hands me a half sheet of cardstock, but I don’t look at it. I’m too enraptured by the scene playing out in front of me. The woman is laid out on a table. I can’t tell if she’s strapped down or not, but she’s not moving and there is an expression of bliss on her face. I glance down at the card in my hand. It’s a menu, and it is filled with expensive dishes from caviar to bite sized wagyu and lobster tacos to gold flaked dessert bites.
My eyes dance around the room as I search for Luke. What is his role in all of this? Then I spot him. He’s sitting in a chair—almost a throne—with one ankle resting on the other knee and he’s looking every bit the king of spades. Next to him another man waits while the buffet is laid out. I wonder if that’s Frank. Which would make the woman on the table Margaret.
“So, what is the fantasy?” I whisper as we hover inside the entrance.
“We flew in a Michelin star chef from London. Frank loves expensive food and wants to enjoy a meal off of his girl, Margaret. But Margaret is also an exhibitionist, so they didn’t want to do it in their home. Here, they both get something out of the fantasy. They invited a few VIP club members to partake in the meal as well.”
“That’s incredible. Is the chef here? Did he cook off site?”
Bellamy grins. “We have a full kitchen. He’s here. And a part of the lifestyle, so it made sense to fly him in. He’s thinking of moving here to start another restaurant.”
Now I want to know which chef it is, but I know it’s rude to ask for names in a space like this, so I don’t. Instead, I follow her out of the room and into the next.
The other spaces all have their own vibes just like she said. Different kinks, different play styles. Everything is high end and expensive. But Luke’s space has an edge on the others as far as expense and luxury goes. I wonder if that was on purpose.
“Would you like to go to my office, and we can talk about membership packages?”
“Am I allowed to join?”
Bellamy frowns. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
I shrug. “I wasn’t sure how Mr. Bowden would feel about it. We’re not friends. It’s complicated.”
Bellamy laughs. “It’s fine. You got a guest pass. You’re welcome to check out our packages. Initial membership is probationary, of course, but I can already tell you like it here and that you fit in with this crowd.”
She means I look rich. And I am. But that wasn’t always the case. My mother thought money was a necessary evil and that one should only have as much as it took to survive. I’m not sure where the notion came from, but it was deeply ingrained in her and it’s the reason my father left her.
In her office, I glance around. It’s low-key but elegant just like she is. Stories are one thing I love most about my job. I love hearing people’s backgrounds, the things that brought them where they are now. And I can’t help but wonder what Bellamy’s story is.
There’s a photo laying haphazardly on her desk of a fierce-looking man in a suit with his arm wrapped around a much younger Bellamy.
He doesn’t appear old enough to be her dad. A brother?
She catches me glancing and tucks the photo away.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “Who is he?”
“Fiancé,” she says blandly.
I can’t stop my eyebrow from raising.
“It’s a technicality I’m hoping to get out of. If you’re here with Master Luke, you have some idea of the kind of families we have. Mine arranged a marriage for me when I was twelve. I’ve dodged it since I turned eighteen. That was ten years ago.”
Now, this is a story I have to know more of. But I get the sense that she doesn’t want to talk anymore about it because she hands me a leather portfolio.
“Our packages.”
She types something into her computer while I look over the numbers. It’s pricey, but I definitely want to see more of what this place offers. I can call it research and write it off as a business expense.
“Your profile is pretty bare, but I understand your guest pass was issued at the last minute. At least you got one. Sorry,” she says with a wince. I don’t know why I’m so annoyed by what happened last time.
“You have a system in place, and it’s not being respected. That’s worth being annoyed by.”
She smiles. “I appreciate that. So, for membership, you’ll need to complete a full profile and choose a package. Once payment and profile are received, you must attend a minimum of six parties in the next six months to get out of probationary member status and move to full membership.”
I choose a mid-level package that will allow me the use of a private room and grant guest passes. Even though I doubt I would ever bring a client here.
