Bought By Two_MMF Bisexual Romance

by Elle Everton

  She nods. “It’s tough out there, I hear ya. Do you have time to sit and catch up?”

  “Um…” I bite my lip and look back at Heath. He’s parked behind the counter, eating a slice of our famous peach pie. “Yeah, sure. I’m actually at the end of my shift, so I can put your order in and then we can talk.”

  She orders a stack of pancakes with a side of bacon and a side of sausage. I almost laugh — Caroline is a beautiful, slim Asian girl, but she eats like a linebacker.

  I bring her food over a few minutes later. I’ve already slipped off my apron, and when Caroline gestures at the empty section of the booth across from her, I slide in.

  “Bacon?” she asks, pushing the side plate towards me.

  I laugh. “No, thanks. After working here six months, I’m so sick of breakfast food, you wouldn’t believe.”

  Caroline grins. “I could never get sick of bacon.”

  “I thought that too, six months ago.”

  We laugh. Caroline drenches her pancakes in syrup and then saws into them.

  “So you’ve been here six months,” she says. “Do you like it?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “It’s … you know, it’s a job. It’s fine.”

  She nods as she chews.

  “What about you?” I ask quickly. I hardly want to spend my free time talking about the diner.

  “Busy,” she says again. She smiles. “I started freelancing as soon as we graduated, and it’s really taken off. God, I have more assignments than I can handle most of the time.”

  I smile. “That’s great.” I’m happy for Caroline — I really am. But I can’t help the little rumble of jealousy that courses through me.

  “Have you been doing any freelancing?”

  “A few things here and there.” Well, that’s technically true. I wrote some blog posts for a company that manufactures sprinkler systems, just to earn a few extra bucks, but there’s really only so much one can say about sprinkler systems. They whir. They’re wet. The end.

  Caroline spears a sausage and chews it thoughtfully. “You know, if you’re looking for work, I might have something.”

  My whole body instantly perks up. “Really?”

  She nods. “I was supposed to do this assignment but it’s conflicting with something else I’m working on and I think I’m going to have to back out. Normally I hate doing that, but if I could tell them I have a reliable back-up, that would probably make it go down easier.”

  My exhaustion and my aching calf muscles and my headache beginnings are all completely forgotten. “Caroline, that would be amazing!”

  She grins. “Great. I have to warn you though, it’s a little … out there.”

  Out there? What the hell does that mean? Oh well, I don’t care.

  I shake my head. “I’ll do anything. Just say the word.”

  She nods, popping another bite of pancake into her mouth before chewing slowly. When she finally swallows, she leans in close.

  “You have to promise to keep an open mind.”

  “The openest.” I cross my hand over my heart. I have to admit, I’m pretty intrigued now.

  She grins. “Okay — the story is about a sex club called The Orchid Room. Orchid. Have you heard of it?”

  I swallow down the gasp that wants to come out. A sex club?

  “No, I haven’t heard of it,” I say slowly. Not that that’s a surprise. I’m not exactly a sex club kind of girl. “Is it here in the city?”

  She nods. “Downtown. It’s very exclusive. Exhaustive application process, and the annual membership fee is — well, let’s just say it’s more expensive than our four years of schooling put together.”

  “Wow.” I chew my lip. I guess some part of me knew those kinds of places existed, but they’re so far out of my every day world that I’ve never really given it much thought. “So I’ll be interviewing the owner? Someone who works there?”

  Caroline looks away for a second. “Remember how I said you’d need to keep an open mind?”

  “Yes…” I say slowly.

  “So, the thing about this assignment is … it’s undercover.”

  Undercover? Holy shit. This is the big leagues. I bite back a wave of excitement until I start to put the pieces together…

  Undercover. At a sex club.

  “Am I going to have to …”

  “You’ll be working there,” Caroline says, sipping her coffee elegantly. “Yes. You shouldn’t have to actually have sex with anyone, not unless you want to.”

  A laugh escapes my lips. As if I would want to have sex with someone in a club like that. How would that even work? For a second I allow myself to imagine the idea — a smoldering hot, wealthy man fucking me on a stage in front of a watching audience.

  My pussy clenches and I squirm in my seat.

  That idea is not supposed to turn me on. What the hell?

  Of course, in my fantasy, the guy is hot and rich — in reality, he’s probably old. With a paunch. Balding — or maybe a bad hairpiece. Not so sexy then.

  “So what would I do?” I swallow.

  Caroline takes another sip of her coffee. “Well, based on the research I’ve done, I’d say it really depends, but most likely you’d get assigned to the general floor. Those are the girls who just help entertain the men between shows. Talking with them, flirting with them, keeping them turned on before the real action starts.”

  I breathe out. “That sounds doable.”

  “You could end up being a performer, but, as I understand it, the performers are usually girls who actually have some talent. You’re not a dancer, by any chance, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Well. So then probably not that. Now, the real holy grail is if you could get put in the auction.”

  I swallow so hard I nearly choke on my coffee. “The auction?” I manage to squeak.

  Caroline grins. “Open mind, remember? The auction is just what it sounds like … they auction women off to the highest bidder.”

  Jesus. I’m having some serious culture shock here.

  “What do they do with them once they have them?” My voice comes out as a squeak.

  Caroline grins again. I almost think she’s enjoying this. “Whatever they want, Lila. That’s kinda the point.”

  A rush of goosebumps covers my skin. Whatever they want …

  Imagine giving yourself to a man in that way. Imagine letting him do anything to you… I don’t even like when I see men ordering for their wives, but this would be on a much grander … a much darker … scale.

  My pussy clenches again. I drum my fingers on the table, wishing I had a glass of ice water.

  “The auction is pretty unlikely,” Caroline is saying, when I manage to bring myself back into the here and now. “From what I understand, they don’t usually let new girls in right away. You kind of have to prove your mettle first. But don’t worry, my contacts at Full Boom aren’t expecting you to be in the auction. It’s great if you can, but they just want a look at what really goes on there. So you’d have to write about your experience, talk to the other girls, see what it’s really like.”

  She looks pointedly at me, like she’s waiting for me to say something, but I can only stare at her.

  “Full Boom?” I finally manage to croak. Holy shit. They’re one of the biggest online news sites out there. Millions of visitors every month — potentially millions of people reading my story.

  “Yep,” she grins. “This is the big leagues, Lila. What do you think?”

  What do I think? I think I’m about to get seriously in over my head.

  “I think it sounds great,” I say, with as natural a smile as I can muster.

  “Awesome,” Caroline says, leaning back and clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad. I know you’ll be perfect for this — you’re so gorgeous that they’re going to love you there.”

  She reaches into her purse and pulls something out. A business card of some kind. She slides it across the table to me.

  It’s
black, with just a simple glowing orchid logo on one side. On the other side, in tiny white type, is an address.

  “You’ll need to go in for your first meeting with them this week,” Caroline says. “The woman you’ll want to see is Ava Lockwood. Brian — the editor I’m working with at Full Boom — will help put together your application, but you’ll need to submit it yourself. We don’t want any connection between you and the magazine, because otherwise your application will get rejected on the spot.”

  I swallow. I look down at the card and wonder why it seems to be moving — until I realize that it’s my own hands that are trembling.

  This is really happening. The universe may not have sent me a Prince Charming, but it may have delivered a Fairy Godmother instead.

  Chapter 2

  Lila

  I stare down at the card, and then up at the building in front of me. Down at the card. Back at the building. Down at the card again.

  This is definitely the right address, but there’s no way in hell this decrepit building houses the elite sex club Caroline claims.

  I twist my hair around my fingers nervously. Maybe this whole thing is just an elaborate hoax. How well do I really know Caroline, anyway? How do I know she didn’t see me at the diner the other day and decide that punking me would be a hilarious way to spend her time?

  I try to breathe. Caroline has always struck me as a sweet and genuine girl. She has no reason to do something like that. And besides, I’d talked to her editor. Signed a contract with him. Everything seems to be on the level.

  Still … this building isn’t exactly filling me with confidence. The street number — 195 — is hung in aged metal over the door, but the five has fallen sideways. The door itself is also metal, so aged it has a shimmering green patina to it. Metal rivets line the door. It looks more like a loading dock than the entrance to paradise.

  I take another deep breath. I’ll poke my head in, just to be sure, and then I’ll go home. I should be spending my free time with Dad anyway, not crawling around dodgy neighborhoods like a street rat.

  I give the door a hard tug, fully expecting it to be locked. Instead it opens easily and I fly backwards, almost landing on my ass.

  “Shit.” I shake it off and try the door again, more gently this time. The interior is dark, especially after the bright sunlight outside. As my eyes adjust, I notice there’s a dim purple light coming from a little ways in the distance. I seem to be in a hallway of some kind.

  I wait until my eyes adjust a little more before I let the heavy metal door swing closed behind me.

  It closes with a booming thud and I swallow. My heart is racing in my chest, and I unconsciously run my hand over my solar plexus, trying to calm it. I move slowly towards the purple light.

  The man appears seemingly out of nowhere. His skin is black, almost as black as the t-shirt he’s wearing, and if it weren’t for the slight purple gleam reflected off his smooth skin, he would have blended into the darkness entirely.

  My heart races faster.

  “I’m looking for Ava Lockwood,” I stammer, giving him the name Caroline had given me the other day. “But I think I must be in the wrong place. I’ll just go…”

  “Name?” His voice seems to thunder in the narrow hallway. I let out an involuntary squeak, then try again to calm myself.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your name?” he asks. To my surprise, he has a thick French accent.

  “Lila,” I squeak. “Lila Emery.”

  It occurs to me a fraction of a second later that maybe I should have given him a fake name, but it’s too late now. Besides, my application has already been submitted, so if this is indeed The Orchid Room, they already know who I am.

  The man in front of me steps back into the shadows, leaving me alone in the hallway again. My eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness, and I look around. It’s definitely a hallway, and I seem to be standing at the end of it. On either side of me, the hallway breaks into more heavy metal doors.

  Suddenly, one of the metal doors opens. The man in the black t-shirt reappears.

  “Come with me,” he says. His voice is like the roar of the ocean. I have no choice but to follow him.

  As he holds the door open for me, I notice the high-tech scanner mounted on the wall next to it. I swallow thickly. What the hell kind of place have I wandered into?

  I follow the man down another dimly lit hallway and then finally we pass through another metal door into a large room. My heart beats a little easier — this is more like what I expected. There actually is a club in here, buried under that labyrinth of hallways we came through.

  The room we’re in now has soft overhead lighting and floor-mounted purple spot lights that stream upwards, creating a dizzying yet surprisingly ambient effect. Long dark velvet drapes line much of the walls, and leather sofas and chaises dot the room. There are two bars, and two stages. One stage is in the center of the room, with the other towards the back. Cocktail tables cover the floor surrounding the stages. The bass from some kind of hip hop music drums softly in the background.

  The place is empty except for a petite brunette standing behind the bar, stocking bottles on the glass shelves behind. She pauses while we come through and gives me a smile as we pass. Then she turns back to her work.

  The man eventually leads me down another long hallway, though this one is much wider and more elegantly decorated than the last one. There are dozens of closed doors, each with small gold plaques. We pass too quickly for me to read what’s written on them.

  Eventually, we pass through a velvet curtain and arrive at a modern looking metal door. This one, too, has a high-tech scanner mounted to the wall, and the plaque on this one reads “Management”. My escort scans a card that he extracts from his pocket, and the machine gives a soft beep followed by a softer click.

  He pulls the door open and ushers me into the space beyond. It’s yet another hallway — what a surprise. This place is a freaking maze.

  Finally, he stops in front of a door and raps softly.

  “Come in.” A woman’s voice.

  The man opens the door and in front of me is the most beautiful office and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

  This room, at last, has a huge arched window, and sunlight streams in, lighting up the black walls and the rich wood floor. The woman, a voluptuous black-haired beauty, sits behind a sleek ebony desk. A vintage crystal chandelier hangs over her, providing even more ambient lighting.

  “Thank you, Remi,” the woman says. Her voice is as lovely as she is, calming and clear and confident. “You must be Lila.”

  She holds her hand out and I hurry over to shake it. She gestures to a plush deep purple velvet chair across from her, and I slip into it. I look back to see that Remi — the man who’d escorted me in — has already disappeared.

  “Lila Louise Emery,” she says, opening a gold folder and scanning the pages inside. “Born June 29, aged 24. Mother, deceased, thirteen years ago now. Car accident. Father, Mike Emery, aged 51. Recently underwent chemo therapy and radiation for stage two colon cancer. You studied journalism at USC and now work at … Earl’s Dine & Dash?”

  “Yes, Ms. Lockwood.” Jesus. They sure do their homework here. How the hell had she even found out some of that stuff?

  “Please,” she says. “Call me Ava.”

  “Ava.” I try to smile, but my lips are so dry that they feel like they’re going to crack.

  Ava folds her hands on top of the folder, and I see that her nails are perfectly manicured in a deep crimson. Of course they are. God, when’s the last I had perfectly manicured nails? I stopped bothering after I started working at Earl’s, because there’s just no point. They get chipped all to hell within an hour.

  “So, Lila, tell me why you want to work at Orchid?”

  I swallow. I should have prepared more for this. I hadn’t expected to feel so out of my element here.

  “I need the money,” I say. That part’s true a
t least. But Ava looks at me like she’s expecting more, so I wrack my brain to try to think of something else to say.

  “I guess I’ve just always felt there was more to life than working at a diner,” I say. “I want to experience more. Really see what’s out there, you know?”

  Ava smiles placidly. I can tell I’m not impressing her so far. She closes my folder. Shit. I have to get this job — I can’t do the story otherwise.

  “It’s just … I’ve always felt like I had this darkness inside me,” I blurt. I have no idea where the words come from, but they make Ava raise her eyebrows so I continue.

  “I know I should enjoy sex — and I guess I do — but it never feels like enough. The darkness in me … it craves more.” I lean forward in my chair. My heart is racing. “I want to push my boundaries. Feel my limits. I want to know what the edge tastes like.”

  I want to know what the edge tastes like? Jesus, where the hell did that come from? My breath is coming more shallowly now, and under my thin t-shirt, my nipples are beaded. I shift in my seat and I can feel how engorged my pussy is, how wet I am. I shift again, and shiver at the friction.

  Jesus, Lila. Get a grip. You’d almost think you believed all that stuff.

  “You’re very beautiful, Lila.” Ava says, leaning back in her chair. “You could do very well here.”

  My cheeks flush. Everything about her is so glamorous and chic that I feel about as beautiful as a chubby, yarn-haired Cabbage Patch Kid.

  “Thank you,” I force myself to say.

  She taps her nails on the desk as she considers me.

  “I can put you on the general floor for now,” she says finally. I have to bite back a squeal. Yesss!

  “The job is pretty straightforward, in theory, but you may find it takes a while to get comfortable. Essentially, you’re there to entertain the men — however, you don’t have to allow any form of touching that makes you uncomfortable. All our patrons are well aware of our rules, and are very carefully vetted. They may try to touch you, and if you’re comfortable you can certainly proceed, but you are also free to gently say no. They know that their membership is conditional on respecting our girls.”