He nods.
We have a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who puts anyone else in danger, regardless of the hundreds of thousands of dollars they’ve paid to be here.
Ignoring a safe word is not fucking tolerated.
I might be a shit human being, but I take care of what’s mine. These people trust us and pay me a fuck ton of money to keep things safe.
So that’s what they’ll get.
“I’m surprised you weren’t watching in real time,” Luke says as he crosses to the door. “You usually monitor everything from the control room.”
“I was busy.”
Just because I don’t fuck the women who work for me or the members doesn’t mean I don’t fuck at all.
Luke simply nods and walks out of my office, and I head down to the control room.
My cousin is right. I usually spend a good deal of time in here, keeping an eye on the entire club. I have twelve monitors that show live video feeds of every area. The playroom is our largest area, so there are three monitors and twelve cameras. I can see everyone who comes and goes through the main entrances, from both streets. I also keep an eye on the bar in the main lounge, where members can sit and enjoy a drink before they go into the playroom. The lounge requires full clothing, no sex, and we have a two-drink max.
I’m short a bartender tonight, but it appears that Max and Rita are keeping up okay for now. Our patrons come in wearing ensembles curated specifically to be noticed—suits, sparkly dresses, lots of jewelry, and expensive watches.
It’s a place to flirt and be seen before walking through the doors to the carnal delights beyond.
I see Mr. and Mrs. Foley are on the hunt for a third tonight. They’re chatting with a man at the bar.
Mrs. Foley likes to fuck men who aren’t her husband. And Mr. Foley likes to watch.
I learned long ago not to judge anyone based on theirsexual preferences. There are plenty of kinks that I indulge in, including the occasional threesome. If you want to judge people for their lifestyle, this isn’t the place for you.
My playroom manager, Madam Loveland, is in her office. Before long, she’ll move into the playroom to keep an eye on things there. I wonder where she was last night when Beth was strapped to the spanking bench.
That’s a question to ask her later.
It’s early enough in the evening that most of the privacy rooms are empty, but those will fill up before the night is out.
My phone pings with a text from Luke.
L: There’s a man asking for you at the loading dock.
The loading dock is where I conduct the … less legal side of my business. Just as I’m about to tell Luke I’ll be right there, someone on a monitor catches my attention.
I lean forward and hit the key that brings the reception area up on full screen, then turn on the audio.
“Who are you?” I murmur, watching intently.
Luke texts again, and I type out a quick response.
Me: Take care of it. I’m unavailable.
She looks nervously around as she pushes her long dark hair over one shoulder and pauses before approaching the front desk.
She’s not a member.
She’s not an employee.
My hand balls into a fist on the desktop as a smile spreads over her perfect face, and even though I’ve never seen her before in my life, it’s as though every cell in my body recognizes her.
She’s mine.
