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“You made a great choice on joining us,” she says. She pulls out a stack of papers. “We need you to sign the paperwork. Are you changing into something else?” she asks me.
“She is not.” Bash catches her eyes. “We don’t have to sign anything.”
“Of course not, sir; you can go right in,” she says, smiling mindlessly.
“How long have you worked here?” he asks.
“Four months.”
“Have you been forced to do anything you didn’t want to do?” Bash asks.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Do you want a way out?” he asks.
“Please,” she begs. Her eyes are glassy, trapped in his spell, but I can see the wish floating in them.
“I want you to leave as soon as we are done talking. I want you to call this number.” He hands her a business card. “Do you have a phone?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Call the number. Talk to Jax and ask him for a job. He will set up an account for you until you start making money. We will get you the help you need. Do not ever come back here.”
She grabs the card desperately. “Thank you,” she whispers. My eyes start to water.
“Go,” he urges and breaks eye contact. The woman runs out the door, past the startled guard.
“Does Jax know?” I ask.
“Yes, we discussed it before you came down.”
“Bash, that was so kind.”
“She was trapped. I gave her a different option.”
He shrugs it off as if it means nothing. My heart falls a little bit more. If that's what he can do with his power, I want it.
He slides his hand around me, palming my hip, and we open the door. I freeze one step in as I take in the scene in front of me. I’ve never been to a sex club, but I could imagine what it would look like. I thought I was prepared. I thought it wouldn’t be so bad. I was wrong.
We are facing the dance floor of gyrating bodies. Couples of every combination, two, three, four, big and small, gliding together. Some are completely naked; others have on just bottoms or just tops. A few have on pasties and nothing else. One lady has on a see-through bodysuit. Cocks are encased in speedos, shorts, and G-strings; some are swinging free.
The music is slow and sexy. There are two stages to the left of the dance floor; they are occupied by couples and groups. Tables are full of sex toys being used openly. A woman is chained up on one of the stages, writhing in pleasure because of the man using a toy on her.
Several tables and booths are to the right of the dance floor, bursting with people, drinking and talking. The bar is in the middle of the room, with two male bartenders handing out drinks. The waitresses are swerving through the tables wearing corsets that encase their torso, leaving their breasts free. The matching G-strings leave nothing to the imagination. The large room is dark, shadows bouncing off the walls.
The sight is arousing, scary, and uncomfortable. To be on display for these men would be frightening. I have no problem with consensual, willing situations. But if these women don’t want this, that’s a problem. Some of them look thrilled to be here, others' faces are blank, and that’s scary.
“Baby, are you okay?” Bash asks.
“Sure,” I say, clearing my throat.
“We can go,” he says.
“I can do this,” I say. He has to bend down to me so I can hear him.
“Let’s get a drink, but don’t drink it until I smell it to make sure they are drugging the customers.” He pulls me through the crowd to the bar.
We get many curious looks when we cut through the dancers. I don’t like how many women eye Bash as he passes. I glare at them. I pay no attention to the men glancing my way. Why would I, when I have a sexy as hell man close to my side? Bash picks me up, puts me on a stool, and stands at my back. He rests his hands on the bar on either side of me.
