Chapter 6 – Julian
One of the greatest pleasures in life is watching my girlfriend be constantly blown away by the places I take her.
Like Damon Monroe’s upscale sex club, a cozy little leather-clad getaway called The Dark Hour.
I’ve only been here a couple of times before. For one, I don’t come to this city very often, outside of in-and-out trips purely to get business done. For another, I’m not exactly hitting up every sex club I come across, even though I have nothing against the concept.
When Monroe called me up to announce the birth of his first child and the subsequent change in his plans, I immediately offered to come out here to meet with him instead. His wife is the one on maternity leave, not him. Surely he can do some crucial business as long as his newborn is only a mile away. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even think they’ve been discharged from the hospital yet. He’s got time.
I was also the one that put the idea of his club in his head. I know he does a ton of business at The Dark Hour, as long as the associate is likeminded. (And he knows I am. We’ve talked enough about it over the years we’ve known one another.) This is also me deciding that this frazzled dad could use a night out to both do business and let loose for a while. No, I’m the last man on the planet who would urge him to cheat on his wife who has just given birth to his first child, but I also know that a new dad like him would most certainly appreciate having some time off before bringing the newborn home.
“Julian,” Alyssa hisses, thinking I’m going to hear her loud and clear above the happy rabble of club music and couples getting their freak on in the middle of a sex club. “There are people having sex in here.”
I wrap my arm around her as we ascend the staircase leading to the Diamond VIP room. “They certainly are, Princess.”
“Princess? That’s a new one.”
I have a million nicknames for my girlfriend, and I’ve definitely called her Princess before… but that term is the one I think most appropriate tonight. “You’re my naughty princess, even if we are conducting business,” I say. Alyssa shudders beneath my touch. That’s the exact reaction I wanted.
“Good to see you two made it here all right,” Damon Monroe says the moment we enter the room overlooking the club. He gets up from his couch and extends his hand for a shake. Stu goes to join the small contingent of bodyguards lining up along the wall. Alyssa also spares them a glance. “Lovely to see you as well, Ms. Pendleton.”
She snaps her head back around. “Er, yes. Pleasure to see you again as well, Mr. Monroe.” She lightly shakes his hand before we’re shown to our own couch on the far side of the room. A server in a skirt shorter than Alyssa’s approaches and asks us what we would like to drink or possibly snack on. I order us a couple of cocktails and ask my girlfriend if she’s hungry. After all, we haven’t eaten anything since we landed.
When she doesn’t answer, I ask our host what’s good. “I recommend the cucumber sandwiches, but that may be because my mother makes the best ones and we use her recipe.”
I can’t relate to a mother’s home cooking. The thought of my mother cooking anything aside from half-brained schemes to get her children-in-law out of her hair is absurd. “Sounds delicious. Go light on the mayo and Alyssa will eat half of them on her own.”
Monroe confirms the order with the server before she takes off down the stairs. He doesn’t spare her a second glance before finishing off his glass of whisky and checking his phone for messages. “You’ll have to pardon me,” he says. “Never know what I might hear this week.”
“No worries.”
“Congratulations, by the way.”
Monroe turns his attention to my girlfriend. “Thank you.” He doesn’t ask what he’s being congratulated for. He’s probably heard that phrase a thousand times this week alone. “But life goes on, yes? I’m not the one in a hospital bed recuperating from giving birth. We have business to conduct this weekend. I only hope that it’s not too much for either of you.”
“I’m right at home,” I say, suppressing a grin. He really has no idea.
“I…” Alyssa opens her bag and withdraws her work tablet. “I’m fine. Shall we get started, gentlemen?”
Is she fooling us with this act? I take the iPad out of her hands and put it back in its bag. “None of that is necessary tonight.” To enunciate my point, I push a lock of her hair behind her ear and tickle the tip of her cartilage. “You’ll notice that Mr. Monroe’s assistant is not here.”
“In fact, one of mine has quit. Real shame, too. She was good.”
“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that. It wasn’t Ms. Oduya, was it?”
“No. The other one.”
Alyssa falls silent. Neither of us expect her to know who he’s talking about. If anything, Monroe was trying to make light conversation to assuage my girlfriend’s nerves. I appreciate it, but I’m the one who knows how to make Alyssa feel comfortable in a sexually charged atmosphere. Because she and I have both noticed the BDSM demonstration going on the main stage downstairs. The lucky audience is watching a pro dominatrix take on two half-naked men, one of whom is seemingly obsessed with licking her boots. Simply another night in The Dark Hour.
We came to do business on a good night, because nobody here – that I know of, anyway – is into Dommes strutting their stuff. More like the other way around.
I may have withheld a few things from my girlfriend on the way here. Tonight’s meeting is nothing but pleasantries. To steal yet another phrase from my brother, I am here to fellate this man’s ego so he’s primed to pump money into my venture tomorrow. I’m also here to gauge how Alyssa reacts to this sort of atmosphere. I’ve been contemplating going into a similar line of business to Preston and opening up my own club. A kinky one, of course. The PNW is severely lacking a cozy hub for rich men and women to congregate and get to know each other in a Biblical way. Oh, there are plenty of sex and swingers clubs in Portland and beyond, but they’re not my kind of scene. I’d much rather come to a place like this.
But only if Alyssa is on board. After all, I would be spending a lot of time there. And as much advice as I can take from Preston, who knows a thing or two about hosting, I’d much rather have Alyssa help me decorate and choose the right vibe of the place we might call our second home when it comes to work and pleasure.
Right now, I’m not surprised to find her a bit shell-shocked. I’d been more surprised if she instantly took to it like a fish to water. Oh, do I ever enjoy opening my girlfriend’s mind to the pleasures of the world…
I don’t want her working on anything. I don’t want her distracted by business when there’s a sensual world surrounding her. It’s all well and good if Monroe and I make a few decisions that we’ll wish we had written down tonight – after another whisky for him and two cocktails for me, no less – but we’ll live. We’ve done business like this with other men for years.
Every once in a while I glance over and see her taking in the sights below. We have a protective vantage point from up here. She can spectate, but there is no expectation of participation. She gets all the thrills without any of the embarrassment.
I keep my arm wrapped behind her, lining the back of this plush couch with my legs crossed in her direction. I advertise to both Monroe and his bodyguards that this woman belongs to me. Not that I think any of them are going to try something. But it’s not about that. It’s about projecting the right image. To Alyssa.
I want her thinking about me every moment that we’re here. I want her to watch those millionaires and their lucky partners have the sexual times of their lives and imagine that it’s us getting up to no good. Maybe not getting up on the stage and making a spectacle of ourselves, but at least enjoying the shows as they come and go.
“Excuse me,” she finally whispers. “Where is the nearest restroom?”
Monroe snaps his fingers. A server clad in all black steps out from the corner with a bow of her head. “Please escort Ms. Pendleton to the nearest ladies’ room.”
“Absolutely.” The woman gestures to the staircase a few feet away. “Right this way, Ms. Pendleton.”
Alyssa spares me one last glance before gathering her purse and stepping over my feet to get to the server. Likewise, Monroe and I exchange looks. “So,” I begin, pretending that my girlfriend isn’t in way over her head, “when does the baby come home?”
His gaze follows Alyssa to the edge of the room. His amused countenance tells me he’s having pleasant memories of how he met his wife – it’s not a secret that she was a server here for one night before he got his hands on her and ended her hospitality career at the grunt level. Now Mrs. Monroe opens clubs and restaurants almost as quickly as Preston does.
“Sunday,” he says, turning his attention back to me. “Now tell me when your wedding is so I can clear my calendar for the event of the year.”
I smile, but don’t say anything. In due time, at the rate Alyssa and I are going.
