Spiked Roses: The Complete Top Shelf Series
Page 6
“Will I need to learn about cigars? Like what are good or bad?”
I stood up, walked around the desk, and extended my hand to assist Anita out of her chair. “Just look pretty, Miss Kyle. Smile, flirt, charm, work your magic, and never say no.”
Taking my hand, she stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Saxon. I really appreciate it.”
“Let’s get you settled in with Tennessee in the back room so he can get you in uniform and start training you.”
Anita’s scent wafted past me, and my mouth watered. For someone who didn’t wear perfume… damn the girl was intoxicating.
Chapter Six
Anita
“Girl, look at you,” a man with a very thick southern accent said. “Aren’t you a pretty walking canvas. All those pretty tattoos make you pop. Pop, I tell ya.”
Mr. Saxon guided me into a large room with makeup stations and mirrors lining every inch of the walls. It reminded me of something that would be backstage of a large Broadway musical in New York. “This is Tennessee Charles. Tennessee, this is Anita Kyle. I just hired Anita to work as a sommelier.”
I extended my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Charles.”
“Oh, child, call me Tennessee. My pappy was Mr. Charles and was a real son-of-a-bitch. Lucky for everyone who knew him, he’s rotting in the ground in Mississippi with a cheap ass headstone marker that his even cheaper good-for-nothing faggot of a son bought him. He’s just lucky I didn’t make it pink to spite the fucker.”
I nodded calmly, trying not to show that the man’s flamboyance and loud voice unnerved me. “Nice to meet you, Tennessee.”
Tennessee Charles was no doubt a walking character. The type of person you always saw in movies and wished to someday encounter but wondered if truly existed – like unicorns.
Well this unicorn existed.
He wore a cobalt blue smoking jacket with a cravat tied perfectly at his neck. The ivory-colored silk material had tiny blue diamonds spattered along the material that matched the jacket perfectly. He had gray pinstriped slacks that fit his body a bit tighter than most men wore their pants, but they accentuated the muscles in his legs. His shoes were blue velvet loafers the exact same hue as his jacket. His style was by far the most eccentric I had seen, and yet, still very sophisticated. His blond hair was combed to the side and slicked down which seemed to add age to his boyish face. I couldn’t exactly pin point how old he was. His style aged him, and yet his face and his hair, which lacked any gray strands, betrayed the older energy he gave off.
“I would like her uniformed in black,” Mr. Saxon directed.
Tennessee examined my body with squinted eyes. “I’m not sure, Kenneth. All those colorful tattoos could really make the red lace and diamonds sparkle. She’s like a rainbow, and there is no black in a rainbow.” He crossed his arms and took a few steps back to examine me further. “And I tend to put the sommeliers in the red uniform. Something about a woman in diamonds and lace delivering a cigar is just plain delicious.”
“No. I want her in black,” Mr. Saxon said again. “She herself said that she is a delicate flower who likes the fucking thorns. So in Anita Kyle’s rainbow… there is a shitload of black.” He turned to me and smirked. “Isn’t that right, Miss Kyle?”
I smiled, but my face heated as Tennessee released a big belly laugh. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that in an interview. Why I got hired anyway, I had no idea.
“Oh lordy, lordy. We got a little spitfire here, I see.” Tennessee nodded when he finally stopped laughing. “Black it is. With a collar for our little thorn here.”
Without saying another word, Mr. Saxon turned and left the room, leaving me standing with my new direct supervisor and his blue suede shoes, not sure what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I was going to be handing cigars to billionaires while wearing a black leather leotard and collar. And The Tasting Room? What the fuck was The Tasting Room? I still wasn’t grasping the entire concept fully.
“All right, girl, follow me. I think I have a black uniform that will fit you perfectly. I may have to do a couple of take ins, but I doubt it. You most certainly are a tiny little thing.” He led me to a long metal rack that had several black leotards as well as long and short red lace dresses. “I can’t believe you cussed in your interview,” Tennessee added as he was sorting through the clothing. “That took some serious balls. Kenneth Saxon is a no nonsense man and puts up with very little. You must have impressed the man for him to look past dropping the f bomb. That man is a perfectionist and expects everything to be proper at all times. In control.” He shook his head. “The man could do with a good removal of that stick up his ass, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Tennessee gave me a wink. “He can be a real bastard. Just fair warning.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so fuc—I was just so nervous. I’ve only had one interview before in my life, and I had no idea what to say or do. He made me nervous. I felt like he was staring right through me.”
“Oh, he was reading you. No doubt about that. He’s a huge corporate attorney and has made millions with that supernatural power of his. So whatever he was reading on your hidden little pages, he liked.”
“I don’t know how. I barely spoke. I tried to sound smart, mature, worldly, and fucked that up big time.” I placed my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry for cussing. I’m so nervous. I guess I cuss when I’m nervous. Just ignore me. I’m a disaster.”
Tennessee laughed and held a leotard up to my body, shook his head and kept looking through the rack. “Well, whatever you did, girl, landed you the job. And a good one too. He usually places the new girls in the kitchen or in housekeeping to prove themselves first. So, the fact that you are working the floor right off the bat is a good thing for you. Be proud of yourself.”
Knowing this little bit of information made me feel really good. I was pretty sure I had bombed it, and that Mr. Saxon hated me. But regardless, I had a job. I had a job in New Orleans on my first day. I couldn’t wait to tell Virgie all about it. She would be so proud of me. I’m not sure she would approve of The Tasting Room, though I wasn’t sure if I approved. I actually didn’t truly grasp what it was. Mr. Saxon seemed pretty tight-lipped about it, only telling me the very basics.
Tennessee held up another leotard to my chest with a satisfying nod. “Go ahead and try this on.”
I looked around for a door to a changing room, but there was only the one that Mr. Saxon and I entered.
“Girl, don’t be bashful now. You better get over that fast. And don’t you worry about me seeing that coochy of yours. Your juicys aren’t anything I want to sample. Your coochy and boobies are safe in my presence, I assure you.” When I didn’t move right away, he said, “Come on. I don’t have all day. We need to get you on the floor before Kenneth shits a brick.”
I loved the thickness of his accent. It gave him so much character and made even inappropriate words like boobies sound floral coming from his lips. I had a feeling I was really going to like this man, regardless if he was my supervisor or not. He seemed like he kept the energy up and added spice to life at Spiked Roses.
Stripping down, trying not to overthink that I was getting naked and putting on a leotard made out of leather, I quickly pulled on the fishnet stockings first and then the tight little one piece afterward. I couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the path my life just took. One second I was walking along a dirty highway feeling as if my life was about as boring and lifeless as one could get, and the next minute I was in New Orleans pulling on a leather body suit as a gay man named after a state was staring at me so that I could go hand out cigars to men only in the hopes that I could someday be so lucky as to attend a sex party for money. What. The. Fuck.
My giggle turned to a full-blown laugh, and when I saw Tennessee look at me as if I were an alien, I said, “I’m sorry. I just am a little overwhelmed with everything. I have never done anything like this, and well…” I kept laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“Seven.” I had somehow contained my laughter, but it teetered on the surface, threatening to burst from me at any minute.
As Tennessee brought me the shoes and I stepped into them, the door to the room opened and Marlowe entered with two girls following behind. Marlowe was wearing one of the red lace gowns that was see through in many areas, but delicately covered her nipples and lower half, but was, by far, the sexiest dress I had ever seen on someone. The fabric went down to her ankles but was slit up to her upper thigh. Behind her, there were two other women also in Spiked Roses wear. One was wearing a black leather uniform like the one I now wore, and another had red lace like Marlowe, but a shorter version that rested right above her knees.
“You got the job!” Marlowe said excitedly. She stepped aside so the other women could see me and introduced us. “This is Anita Kyle. She just moved into Marie St. Claire’s and obviously landed the job today.” She pointed to the brunette in black leather and said, “This is Ivy,” she pointed to the woman in red, “and this is Kinsey. They also live at Marie’s.”
I stepped forward, shook both of their hands, and tried to give the warmest smile I could. I didn’t have friends my age in Muckaluk. I only had two friends and those were Virgie and Roy. One of which I worked for, and the other one I paid in beer to tattoo me. So, I’m not sure they really counted. But this was my chance to have somewhat of a normal social life with women. I just hoped I wouldn’t fuck it up.
“You look great in that,” Ivy said. “You are going to fit in perfectly at Spiked Roses.”
I hoped so. Even though I really didn’t know what fitting in really meant. I did really hope so.
Chapter Seven
Anita
Dear Virgie,
Sorry it has been a few days since I wrote you last. I have been so incredibly busy since arriving in New Orleans. You were right when you said I would love it here. I do. So much so. There are trees! I know how that might sound hearing me say that that is one of my favorite parts of this city, but it is. Muckaluk didn’t have trees. Nowhere around us had trees, and yet there are so many here. And they are huge, lush, and green. I’m in love with the surroundings, and it almost feels as if I can breathe better. The air is wet, soothing, and brings life to my dried up insides.
I really like living at Marie St. Claire’s. She is really nice, and so are all the other women who live here. They have even taken me out and showed me the town. I have friends. It’s odd, but I like it. They also have shown me the ropes around my new place of employment called Spiked Roses.
I don’t know how to accurately describe this place to you without giving you a heart attack and hopping on the next bus to come fetch me and take me home. It is a members-only club for wealthy men. They come to drink, smoke, conduct business, and look at the pretty ladies who serve them. I got hired as the cigar girl, so I basically bring the men their cigars from their own private keeps. I also walk around the room with a tray of cigars that cost more than my monthly rent and sell them. Though, no one pays in cash. They just write down their member number. It’s a whole new world here, but I actually enjoy it so far. I got my first paycheck which wasn’t a full one, and I was really happy. If I keep making this kind of money, then I will be able to afford a plane ticket for you to come see me soon. It will be my gift to you, which will be nothing compared to the gift you gave me.
I think I’m doing a good job. My direct supervisor Tennessee Charles—yes, that is his real name—tells me I am learning quickly and will be ready to move up to waitressing soon. That is where the real money is, they say. There are several owners of the club who are all my bosses, but the only one that I really ever see is Kenneth Saxon. I can’t tell if he likes me or not. I catch him staring at me, and I know he is watching, waiting for me to mess up. When his eyes are on me, I shake the tray of cigars no matter how steady I try to be. He rarely speaks to me, but every time I see him standing in the shadows, or sitting in a leather chair sipping on his ridiculously priced whiskeys, he is watching me. And the truth of the matter—which I will only confess to you—is that the man is so freakin’ handsome. The type of handsome that is like a punch to the gut every time you look at him. He has dark hair, dark eyes, and wears a suit. He always wears a suit! I can tell the suit is expensive, and I’ve been tempted to touch it just to see what it feels like. And when he looks at me, I almost feel as if he is undressing me with his eyes. I don’t think I will ever get used to it. The other girls say they don’t notice him doing that, but I do. I see it all the time. I just hope he doesn’t fire me.
There is one thing that may make you think I have lost my mind working at Spiked Roses. They have a room called The Tasting Room. I’ve never been in it… but I want to. I’m curious even though I know it killed the cat. I want to see what happens. The other girls told me that the wealthy men go into the room with the intent of leaving it with one of the staff by their side. A contract happens. A contract stating that the man owns the woman for a day, a weekend, or whatever time is dictated in the contract. The woman agrees to do whatever the man says and it is all spelled out in the contract. I don’t really know what that means. When I asked if it was sex, the girls told me sometimes but not always. One girl got bought for a night and had to dress up like a little girl and call the man Daddy. Another girl said she was tied up and flogged, bathed, then flogged again. I suppose it could be called prostitution, but many of the girls who have worked a tasting say it is not. They said it is sexual play. Sexual fantasies. And the payday is huge. Sometimes life altering huge. Some girls will do one night in The Tasting Room and never return to waitressing again. I mean… can you imagine making so much money in a day or two that you don’t have to work again?
Now before you stroke out, Virgie, I haven’t done a tasting, and not sure I will. I’m curious, but I’m not sure I have the balls. And if I do, I won’t have sex. I don’t know. I’m all over the place on my thoughts in regards to this. I guess this conversation is a “to be continued”.
But I am doing really good! I’m happy, healthy, and surviving a big new world. I miss you like crazy and will be calling you soon. I know you wanted letters, and that was part of the deal, but I still want to hear your voice.
Love you.
~Anita
P.S. You better be taking your medications and staying away from the popcorn and soda.
As I walked down the stairs to mail out the letter, Marie caught me in the hallway. “Anita,” she said with worry in her eyes. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“What’s wrong?” My heart stopped. I sensed bad news was coming.
“It’s Virgie.”
“What? What’s wrong with her?” Ringing banged in my ears, and my knees wobbled. I had a cell phone. Why didn’t I get a call on my cell phone? Something bad must have happened.
“I don’t know. I got a call from Elko Regency Nursing Home looking for you. They must have had this number from Virgie. They wouldn’t give me any information, but I took down their number to go find you. I didn’t know you were home yet.”
“Did they say if Virgie was okay?”
She shook her head. “No. They wouldn’t tell me a thing.” She handed me a piece of paper with a number on it. “But call this. They said Virgie put down your name as her daughter. So you better play along to get the information you want.”
I took the paper from her shaking hand, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and dialed the number without even going outside or upstairs. I knew Marie wanted to know the news just as much as I did. After several minutes of being on hold, lying that I was Virgie’s daughter to more than one person, and waiting for what felt like an ungodly amount of time, I finally heard the sweet voice of my dear friend.
“Hello?”
“Virgie! It’s Anita. What’s going on? Why are you at Elko Regency?”
“Oh, Anita! I’m so happy to
hear from you. Can you believe these assholes put me here?”
“Are you all right? Did you fall? Are you sick?”
“No. That damn Pine-Sol smelling nurse made some report that I needed more care. She used the term 24hr care, and it landed me in this joint. I’ve been trying to break out, but the doctors tell me my insurance will only pay for part-time nursing. Not 24hr. So the only way I can get the amount of care needed is by living in a goddamn nursing home.”
I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew this was Virgie’s worst nightmare. She wanted to die in her home. Her house was all that mattered to her anymore.
“Oh no. They can’t do this.”
“I’m working with a sweet social worker who is trying to help me. Or so she says,” Virgie said. “But I put down your name as my next of kin in the paperwork. I didn’t know they would call you. I didn’t want them to. The last thing you need is to worry about my old ass. I’ll get this taken care of one way or another.”
“Of course they should have called me!” I snapped between clenched teeth. “You should have called me the minute this happened. I’ll hop on the next bus and get you out of—”
“No, you will not!” Virgie shouted over the phone line. “Over my dead and wrinkled body will I allow that. You will not be my 24hr care no matter what. I would rather lose my house and eat applesauce through a straw wearing a bib in this hellhole before I would allow that to happen. Do you hear me, Anita Kyle? Don’t you dare come here and try to fix this. I have this under control.”