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With the initial meeting done, I planned to use our off-the-clock time with Blair away from our everyday lives. No family, no work. Just the two of us. Where we get to know one another more intimately. Aside from the superficial relationship of her being my best friend’s daughter.
Then she mentions him.
Cold water douses the spark of her becoming my little girl.
Perhaps it’s a sign. Roderick would lose his English cool if he learned of any involvement between Blair and me beyond platonic. The friendship he and I built over the decades would end in a millisecond. I imagine Rod demanding we meet at sunset for a duel. I’d laugh except the thought depresses me.
With Blair I see the potential to live my life again. Have a second chance at happiness. And dare I say love?
I shake my head and retrieve the mobile from my suit jacket pocket. I didn’t appreciate the way Steele ended the meeting. Then Lola yelling at him adds to the concern. What’s going on there?
I send a text message to tell her we need to speak further. She’s working from a guest office. So, at some point today, she’ll return to Banque Montaigne. Meanwhile, I’ll focus on business and not dwell on the situation with Blair—if there is one.
As always, I don’t leave the office until after seven in the evening. However, a text message diverts my plan for a night in with a meal prepared by my chef followed by reading then bed as a distraction from Blair.
The approval of my application for two seven-day passes at LEVELS New York appears on the mobile screen. A friend of mine in the BDSM lifestyle told me about the Paris location when it opened. At the time, I wasn’t interested. My mind wasn’t ready to move forward from the devastating losses. But now.
Initially, I planned to bring Blair to the exclusive club since the chance of us being recognized is slim. However, after this morning’s blip, I’ll use tonight for reconnaissance. Tomorrow, I’ll gauge her interest. If she’s inclined, we can roleplay in the evening.
The thought of Blair dressed in a black sheer baby doll and matching thong with pink fuck-me stilettos holding a teddy bear pops into my mind. I’d come home from a long day at the office. She’d toddle over to me on those high platforms, drop to her knees, and suck me off. Then I’d pull her into my lap so she can tell me about her day while I play with her tight, wet pussy. She wouldn’t cum until I fuck her hard. Afterwards, I’d bathe her and tuck her in then read a naughty bedtime story. Once she falls asleep, I’d slip into bed and curl my body around hers. A kiss to her swollen lips, and I’d fall into a peaceful slumber.
My cock thumps. I stroke it through my trousers as I send a text message to my driver to bring the Cullinan around. I’ll go straight to the club and eat at the restaurant before I experience the rest of its offerings. But first, I stride to my private bathroom to offer relief to my aching cock…
“Bonsoir, Monsieur Montaigne,” one of the two stunning greeters purrs as I step into the lobby for LEVELS New York.
“Bonsoir,” I respond as I make my way to her station.
She offers to arrange a tour. But I decline. With a smile, she explains the enamel bracelets color coded for the wearer’s availability to others in the club. I opt for the white one as an available Dom. Her grin widens as she places it around my wrist. Her delicate fingers brush my skin. Instead of sparking interest, I remain unfazed. Recognizing my disinterest, she provides me with my guest keycard and directs me to the D&D elevator for access to LEVEL 4 Restaurant. I smile, and she blushes as her eyes lower submissively.
When I step off the elevator, I take in my surroundings. The bar is bustling with members. They hobnob with top-shelf drinks. Seats range from the leather and black metal stools at the long, reclaimed-wood-covered bar to the dozen high-top tables styled to match. The bar along the right wall features a floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall of shelves of only the best spirits and wines. Tables on the left complete the layout of the open-plan room. A path between the two areas leads to the LEVEL 4 Restaurant’s maître d' station.
As I stride towards the maître d’, my gaze alights on several recognizable faces enjoying nightcaps at the bar area’s high-top tables. The owner of a profitable hedge fund, the former ambassador to Italy, and a high-powered female CFO of a Wall Street investment bank are present. The club caters to the most wealthy and influential in society. Like me, they prefer the relative safety that one can expect from the ironclad nondisclosure agreement that LEVELS requires every member and their guests to sign.
I continue to the restaurant since I’m not here for small talk. As I approach the hostess at the dining area’s maître d’ podium, I also notice several pairs of lust-filled eyes including those of a few men track my movement as I walk past them. Sadly for the men, I’m strictly a female to a male individual. As I approach the station, the maître d’ on duty lifts her gaze with an alluring smile on her pretty face.
“Good evening, Monsieur Montaigne,” says Beatrice, as her name tag denotes. She angles her chin down to allow her to peek up at me from beneath her long eyelashes without direct eye contact.
“May I show you to a table, Sir?”
I don’t miss her emphasis on Sir as a sub innuendo.
“Good evening, Beatrice. That’s good, thank you,” I reply.
Her full lips curl up into a dazzling smile as she visibly preens then leads me to a table in the center of the dining area.
“Enjoy your dinner, Sir,” she says and walks away. Then on second thought she turns and adds, “Should you need anything at all, please let me know.”
My gaze remains on the menu as I nod. She walks away dejectedly.
I enjoy a delicious meal of a tossed salad to start and grilled langoustines with white wine sauce for the entrée. So far, STEELE International impresses me with their establishment. Standing, I head for the elevator to further my exploration.
I pass through the lobby to the other side for access to Peepshow and to The Cellar. The greeter from earlier watches me with hungry eyes. I merely nod in acknowledgment as I push the double doors open.
A pulse vibrates through me at my first foray into the BDSM lifestyle in years. I smirk at the familiar sights of Doms and subs in various stages of roleplaying. Some on mini stages while others stride about the space with the Dom in the lead and the sub on their knees with a collar and leash. A bar stands in a corner for mocktails. The sounds and scents of carnal pleasure stimulate my senses. My cock grows to life.
I head for the stairs for access to The Cellar—the BDSM dungeon. A set of heavy wooden double doors with two large, iron circular pulls. At the entrance stands a riveting pair. A man dressed only in a minuscule, black leather jock strap, his enormous bulge slightly covered. A woman in a black latex butt-cheek-baring tube dress, both have black leather collars around their throats.
As the couple opens the deceptively light doors, the sights and the sounds that surround us are incredible. Peepshow is tame compared to the Cellar.
