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SAMANTHA
Walkinginto the Clubhouse for class, I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach. Being the only woman here makes me feel like I stand out, in a target acquired sort of way. This must be what Daniel felt like when he was thrown into the lion’s den. Get it... the mascot is a lion?
Even the tiny inner joke with myself doesn’t ease my nerves, and I repeat my mental checklist once more, knowing that nothing’s changed since I did it the last ten times.
I’m dressed conservatively, in a blue pantsuit, with my hair pulled up into a bun that’s not messy, but not librarian tight, either. Everything’s covered and no fantasy spank bank material there. My makeup? Light and again, toned down. No cum-swatter lashes or suck-me red lipstick.
It’s ridiculous that these things are even necessary, but I want to look like I’m here for business and to preemptively not give any of these man-children the wrong idea.
And then maybe I can learn something from this class time too.
These men are going to grow into my future clients, their partners sitting at their side wondering why he’s stuck on face down-ass up as the only acceptable sexual position. But if I can reach them now, I can help change that future so that there’s a better outcome for all.
Or at least that’s my hope. And my job.
The entrance to the Clubhouse is welcoming, or it would be if my stomach wasn’t flip-flopping like crazy.
Oh, shit! Is there even a women’s restroom here? I didn’t see one when Chance and I did our alarm-check, so maybe there’s not one?
The idea stops me in my tracks, right outside the double doors, though I shift from one heeled foot to the other, considering my options. Logic and reason remind me a moment later that it’s required by code, so I’m probably okay there. Not that I want to pee in a building full of guys, anyway. The fear of being that vulnerable means I probably couldn’t relax my bladder enough, anyway.
I shake my head to rattle the random thoughts loose and focus on my mission. Opening the door, I’m hit with a faint blast of cool air and a clean, woodsy scent. It thankfully doesn’t smell like sweaty balls and unshowered assholes.
Chance is waiting for me, perched on the lightly stained oak reception desk with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and his arms laced over his chest. He’s dressed in a stunning suit, a three-piece blue one that makes his eyes pop, with a burnt orange patterned tie that makes him look powerful but fashionable.
“Thought you were gonna bail,” he teases straight-faced, and I realize that he could see me freaking out on the other side of the front doors.
“Nope, was hoping I don’t piss myself when a roomful of bros see lil ole me in their midst.” I say it lightly, like I’m joking back, but it’s more truthful than I’d care to admit.
Concern fills his face instantly as he pushes off the desk to come closer. “Samantha, you’re safe here. I promise.”
I nod diplomatically even though I don’t fully believe him. He truly thinks I’m safe, but he’s never walked into a space feeling anything less than powerful and in charge of his own destiny. I’m days away from being harassed in public for simply doing business. And the guy who did it is going to be in my class.
“Welcome to The Gentlemen’s Club,” Chance says formally, taking my hand. Though the handshake is professional, his eyes smolder, reminding me that we’re already much closer than polite handshakes. “This is my partner, Evan White.”
Another man steps forward. His dark hair is side-swept loosely, his herringbone patterned suit surprisingly untraditional, and his smile charmingly inviting. But his gaze is shrewd, measuring me head to toe as well as the inches between Chance and me.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand.
Shaking his hand, I taunt, “Two big brains between you and you still couldn’t come up with a name that doesn’t sound like a strip club?”
Chance laughs outright at the comment. Evan’s lip twitches, but he doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “Would you like anofficialtour?”
The acerbic tone of his offer lets me know that Chance told him about my coming here already. Rule six has already been smashed to smithereens, and I’m coming in to kick the remnants away. And Evan isn’t a fan—of me or my presence in his second home.
Deciding his tip-toe through the landmine approach isn’t going to get us anywhere fast, I go full-frontal, center-mass assault. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do here. Men’s clubs aren’t inherently awful, as long as you’re not excluding women from opportunities, which doesn’t sound like what you’re doing. I support your trying to help young men become kind, successful, emotionally aware men who’ll enter relationships, professional and personal, with their eyes wide open. I’m here to help with that, if you want it. If not, I’ll go.”
Evan’s eyes have widened incrementally as I speak, his eyebrows climbing at the same time. Out of the side of his mouth, he grumbles to Chance, “Fine, you’re right. She’s perfect.”
Chance smacks Evan on the back in a bro-like move. “Told you. Now, tour?”
We start down the hallway, and I can feel the eyes on me and the whispers from the few boys already here. As we pass the weight room, I chuckle. “I feel like Wendy among the Lost Boys.”
“Thankfully, we’ve got no Tinker Bell to sabotage you,” Chance says. “And up here is one of our multipurpose rooms. We do counseling sessions here, but also, the guys can reserve it for their own usage, like if they’ve got homework they need complete silence for or if a couple of the guys are getting together. There’s a few subgroups here—a Dungeons and Dragons group, a band, and a bunch of investment guys.”
I look inside because though I saw this area when we walked the space before, that was with a fear-filled focus that somebody was going to jump out at every turn. Seeing it in the daylight, as my new workplace, is an entirely different vibe. “Nice,” I compliment, and Evan nods approvingly. I’m winning him over by degrees. “Better than the study pods on campus for sure.”
“We have a dedicated counseling room too,” Evan says. “If things go well and you’re comfortable, maybe you could do some one-on-one talks with the guys? You could choose what space you prefer.”
