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Finally, I turn my eyes to meet his. In his expression, I read the concern he has for me. Emerson has invested in me for my entire career. He brought me into the club because he saw something in me, something people wanted. To him, I’ve always been a valuable asset to his company. He’s never once treated me like an employee.
In another life or another world, I would take the job. But Emerson has no idea what I have on the line. I’m all out ofmeto give.
“I will,” I reply earnestly.
With a lopsided smirk, he nods before taking his bourbon and walking away. For a while, I sit at the bar and let his offer play out in my head. What would I change around here if I had the chance? How would I feel being a part of their team? Like one of the owners. Since this place opened three years ago, I’ve invested in this club. I believe in the owners and their mission with this place, and I want to see it succeed.
Succeed it has. Even without me drawing in clients, this club gives our community something it had been missing. I had been to clubs before, but the vibe was never quite right for my tastes. I never felt half as safe as I do here—and safety has always been my top priority.
Like I told Charlotte on that first night, this club was never built for men alone. This was the only place I’ve ever been to that felt as liberating and as comfortable as it does. I’ve seen lives change here. And I want desperately to be a part of that, even more than I already am.
How do I tell Emerson there’s not a single thing I would change, but I would be honored to protect it the way it is right now? I want Salacious Players’ Club to be here forever.
It truly is my home away from home.
Lost in my thoughts for a few moments, I nearly jump out of my seat as my phone alarm vibrates in my clutch. I quickly pull it out and see the reminder set for my eleven o’clock appointment.
It’s for a consultation with a new client—something I don’t often do. Most of my services are a little more hands-on, but occasionally, I’ll get someone who wants to pay a nice chunk of change to talk to me for an hour.
All I know about my appointment tonight is that it’s a young woman dating a new guy with some particular tastes, and she’d like ideas on how to please him.
Never a dull moment.
I take the next couple of minutes to finish off my martini. Then I say goodbye to Geo and head toward the hostess stand in the lobby at the front. I give her the name and information of my client so she can let her in and direct her to where I’ll be waiting.
Then I head upstairs to my private room.
Maybe Emerson is right. Maybe I do need to start thinking about something more than working on the floor like this forever. Would I miss it? The adventure of meeting a new client every night. The power I feel when they submit. The sex. The pleasure.
I mean, there’s nothing saying I couldn’t still have some fun at Salacious, even if I were a club director.
Or is there?
I’d definitely miss it. I love my job.
I can still remember that day seven years ago when Ronan opened my eyes to what was out there waiting for me. I never in my life considered myself a dominant woman, but once I got a taste, I couldn’t quit. I started my blog as a starry-eyed, naive young woman with an insatiable appetite for knowledge.
Just a couple of years in, I had over a million subscribers and was officially ready to do this professionally. There was never sex in the beginning. I couldn’t believe how many people would pay me to be their Madame. To bark orders at them, make them my footstool for an hour at a time, have them licking my boots, and taking lashes from my flogger.
My craving to learn was insatiable. Ronan and I toured a few different clubs. We even hosted a few sex parties of our own at his place.
I was good at being Madame Kink and couldn’t get enough. In a lot of ways, I think becoming a sex worker was the last great liberation from the life I used to live and the small-minded world I grew up in. I was finally free and in charge of my own life. There was no shame. No fear.
And then Salacious opened, and everything only got better. This club changed everything for me. Finally, I had a place where I felt safe. No one judges me here. We are truly free to be and do what we want.
My reputation quickly grew, and now, there’s not a member of this club with more room invites than me.
So would I be stupid to take this job now?
There’s a knock at the door, and it pulls me from my thoughts and memories. My heels click against the marble floors as I cross the room toward the door.
Before opening it, I push my shoulders back and fix my tight black dress. Then I twist the handle and plaster the Madame Kink expression on my face. After I open it, I stare at the young woman standing nervously in front of me.
Instantly, my expression falls.
“Hi,” the girl stammers, looking back and forth down the narrow hallway.
I blink a couple of times to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. The lighting is sort of dim out here, so maybe I’m wrong. But I swear this is the exact same girl I saw with Clay just last weekend.
