“You want me to work out at six in the morning?”
“I mean, unless Mr. Alexander is giving you a different kind of workout, yes.” She smirks and hits the button for the elevator.
“Are you from Vegas?” I ask her.
“Nah, I’m from Nebraska.” She shakes her head. “It’s soboringthere. I wanted bright lights and excitement. So I came here when I turned eighteen and found this job about a year later. I’m never leaving it. I’ll be old and wrinkled and still working in the playroom.”
I giggle at the thought, and then we’re back on the lounge level. I wave at Rita as Scarlett leads me to the heavy double doors that open to the playroom, and whenshe pulls it open, I step inside and feel my breath catch in my lungs.
Oh my God.
The black-and-gray color scheme doesnotcarry into this space. It’s white. White tile floors, white wallpaper with gold designs in it. Flowy, transparent fabric hangs from the ceiling, giving the illusion of rooms. The stage is dark and empty right now, but I can’t help but wonder what kinds of shows they put on in here.
The furniture is all in jewel tones. Purples, reds, yellows, and greens. I don’t even know what half of it is, because I’ve never seen anything like it.
But then there are also couches, stools, and benches. There are two beds in opposite corners of the space, and there are pillars throughout the room where couples are fucking.
Alotof sex is happening in here.
Music pounds around me, which fascinates me because I don’t hear the music in the lounge. The playroom must be soundproofed.
Scarlett leads me to the right.
“We’re going to make a circle,” she yells into my ear, “through the whole space, so you can take it all in. Then we’ll walk down the hall of privacy rooms.”
I can only nod as she leads me to the corner with the first bed. A woman is lying in the middle of red satin sheets on her back, all four limbs secured with ropes to the corners of the bed. She’s naked, and two men, one on either side, are playing with her, running huge peacock feathers up and down her skin.
“They’re just beginning,” Scarlett tells me. “They’ll progress with different instruments until they get to the pain part.”
“The pain?”
“Sure. She’s here to test her limits, and George and Adam are the best. They’ll keep her safe, check in with her often, and the second she uses a safe word, it’s over. This is just one kind of scene I was telling you about.”
“Have you done this?” I ask her.
“Of course.” She winks at me, and we stay to watch.
It’s not sterile-looking, as far as decor goes. Ruby-red drapes frame the bed, giving it a rich tone that feels intimate.
The men switch from feathers to soft makeup brushes, the kind I’d use for my blush. They circle her breasts, down her stomach and over her pussy, then down her legs.
Next up is a riding crop, and now I shift on my feet.
But they don’t slap her with it. They glide it over her skin, up and down her body. One of them does give her breast a little slap, and she gasps, then smiles.
Is that normal? For women to like that?
“Over here is the spanking bench.” Scarlett gestures for me to keep walking, and my eyebrows climb. “It’s what it sounds like. You bend over, and someone spanks you. Or you’re the spanker. Both are fun.”
I notice there are restraints on it, and I frown.
“You get tied down while they spank you?”
“Sometimes, but you don’t always have to be. They’re there for whoever wants to use them.”
“I don’t want to be hit.” I shake my head adamantly. “No, thank you.”
“A hard limit.” She nods approvingly. “I like it. No spanking bench for you, then.”
