by Rylee Swann
Jules’s finger is still tapping. “This is very interesting.” She looks back to me. “You can interview Master X and provide insight on why clubs like his are still so popular in the post Fifty Shades world.”
I take a deep breath, inhaling dollar signs, exhaling financial stress.
This job will pay my rent. This job will buy me food. I can afford to water Pete. And get a haircut that doesn’t make me look like a Disney princess who’s trying too hard.
“Sounds wonderful,” I say and get a beaming smile in return.
“Perfect. Be sure to stop by wardrobe and makeup before your appointment with Master X. You’ll want to look the part.”
I deflate a little more. “Yes, ma’am.”
The entire room gives a collective gasp and Jules’s mouth tightens at the corners. “Be at the club on Friday, during the opening. Find Master X and ask for the interview.”
“But my birthday is Friday.”
Why oh why can’t my mouth just shut up?
Jules’s ears appear to flatten on the side of her head, giving her a feline appearance. “And how many candles will be making an appearance this year?”
I lift my chin. “Thirty.”
There are additional gasps but there are more looks of sympathy than anything else.
“Well,” Jules goes on, “I can’t think of a better place to spend such a momentous birthday than in a place where youth reigns supreme.”
I can’t help it. I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
CHAPTER THREE
Xavier
“This is impressive.”
Turning from the balcony overlooking the dance floor below, I’m greeted by a much older man with a much younger woman on his arm. She’s wearing strips of leather material, the only thing covering her breasts and ass. She fits right in. In the two hours my new establishment has been open, I’ve learned that New York women are just as beautiful as Los Angeles, Chicago, Paris... well, all seven cities in which I’d opened the X franchise.
“Thank you,” I say. “Welcome to Club X.”
“Wow,” the young woman says, and I hope my attendants checked identification before allowing her in the door. She looks eighteen, the pigtails adding to the illusion. “I’ve never been to a place like this.”
She steps over to the balcony and looks down at the stage, her hand moving to her stomach. To calm the flutter of arousal, I’m betting as she takes in the scene below.
On a small stage, performers act out a show for my guests. Two men have a woman trussed up, elbow to wrist. She’s bound and is straddling an open-backed chair, her tits pushed up, nipple clamps with weights dragging the floor. Her pussy glistens from her arousal, and she arches backward as a riding crop comes down on her ass, leaving a crisscross of red marks on her pale skin.
Her ankles are each bound securely to a chair leg, leaving her completely helpless as the other man grabs her blindfolded head by a fistful of hair. At first, he teases her lips with his cock before ramming it deep in her mouth. Her mouth opens wide, her throat bulging as she takes him all the way in.
In spite of myself, my cock pulses in my pants. Even though I own a chain of sex clubs, and even though I’m called Master X, I’ve not partaken of the indulgences offered so casually in months.
One, I’ve been too busy. Two… the selection has grown stale.
Women just aren’t a challenge anymore.
“What would you like to drink?” I ask and nod to a passing waitress. She’s at my side in a second, her nipples barely covered by the apron she wears, her eyes lowered in the submissive appearance all the waitstaff must exhibit. Male or female or anything in between, it doesn’t matter.
“How may I serve you, Master X?”
I wave a hand to my two VIPs. “Please serve our guests.” I nod to the older man and excuse myself. “Have a pleasant evening.”
The application process of becoming a member of this exclusive club is intense, and I know the man’s name, his occupation and bank balance, but I don’t say any of it out loud. It’s part of the allure, the illusion of privacy.
I don’t go far before I’m greeted by another couple, then another, and finally my friend. Logan claps me on the back. “Another success, it seems.”
Looking back down at the packed club, I have the evidence in front of me. Memberships are at an all time high, money coming in hand over fist. Then why am I so unsatisfied? So fucking melancholy? At forty-two, I shouldn’t feel like such an old man.
“Hey, did someone kick your dog?”
I don’t even look Logan’s way. He knows I don’t have a dog.
“That reporter called again, wanting to set up an interview.”
I slide him a look. “I don’t do interviews.”
He laughs. “That’s what I told her for the sixteenth time.”
“She’s persistent.”
Logan turns to face me, and I already know what he’s going to say. “Come on, man. One interview won’t hurt.”
“No.”
“It’ll be good pub—”
“No.”
He blows out a breath. In addition to being my best friend, Logan also serves as chief executive officer for X Enterprises, and in some part of my mind, I know what he’s saying is true. I don’t care. Even though I’m not anonymous, I enjoy my privacy. My picture is plastered across the world wide web, and I’m transparent when it comes to business matters. I don’t hide behind a mask, but I also don’t step in front of a microphone if I can manage to avoid it.
“You’re probably right,” Logan says, taking a drink from the heavy tumbler in his hand. “The mystery is attractive. Makes them keep coming back hoping for a glimpse behind the curtain.”
That makes me grin. “I’m not Oz, you know?”
He takes another long drink. “Yeah, but you’re old, so it’s the same.”
I laugh, shake my head, and reach up to stroke my beard, remembering when my fingers touched smooth skin when I made the mistake of shaving it off in France. “Considering you’re exactly two months younger than me, I’d shut the fuck up if I were you.”
He just grins. Mainly because he’s done what he’s set out to do… pull me out of this funk I’ve found myself in.
Is this a midlife crisis? Should I just buy a sportscar, fuck lots of twenty-year olds, and call it done?
Gripping the balcony railing, I watch the guests turn back to the stage where another team is about to perform. Two women this time. But even as they begin their performance, and the music changes to a sultry mix, I find myself scanning the crowd. Looking. Searching. For what? I don’t know.
Across the room, the door opens and a woman steps inside. She hesitates, her eyes wide as she scans the room. Is she waiting for someone? A friend? A lover?
I find myself holding my breath, hoping she isn’t waiting for anyone. For some reason, I’m drawn to her. She stands out, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she’s the only woman in the room actually wearing a dress. One that, sadly and temptingly, covers her ample breasts and ass. Tied at the neck, the front shows a hint of cleavage, her skin pale against the dark navy. It falls to her feet, giving me a glimpse of only her red toes.
It’s the back of the dress that’s most magnificent. When she turns to see who is next to come through the door, I get to see it for the first time. Her entire back is exposed, even the dimples just above her ass. So sexy.
It takes her a few minutes to step away from the wall. Even as I watch, she pulls her shoulders back, takes a deep breath, and moves over to the bar. Ah… seeking liquid courage it seems.
I can give her courage.
The thought surprises me.
At the bar, I’m glad to see that she doesn’t have to wait long before one of the bartenders greets her and takes her order. Wine. She orders a white wine, I see. The cheap stuff, which makes me frown. She deserves better. I want to give her better, I realize.
I smile as she tosses back her wine in two long gulps, then turn
s to the bartender for another. Once its full, she sips this time and moves away, carefully stepping around the couple in fetish dress, a leash around the man’s throat.
“See someone interesting?” Logan asks and follows my line of sight with expert precision. “Pretty.”
She is indeed. Refreshing. Different.
“Do you know her?”
Logan moved to New York six months ago, to oversee the construction and last minute details of the club opening while I dealt with some land purchases in France. “No. I don’t believe so. Would you like an introduction?”
I shoot him a look, unsure if I like how eager my friend is to see me get laid. Have I been that big of an uptight ass?
A tall, older man approaches the woman, and I find myself gripping the railing tighter. He says something to her then slides an arm around her shoulders. The girl’s eyes grow wide and she does a neat little sidestep, clutching her wineglass in front of her before heading toward the dance floor.
She’s closer now, almost under me, and I can make out the lean muscles in her bare arms, the line of her collarbone hiding beneath the halter of her dress. Lush hair is swept back from her face, exposing high cheekbones and full lips painted a soft pink. She radiates femininity, a softness under the ivory complexion.
Finding an empty spot to stand by a table, she takes another sip of wine and looks around. When she looks up at the ceiling, a lovely throat is revealed and my dick pulses once again. She continues to scan the room, her eyes taking in the balcony on which I’m standing.
See me, I will her. Look at me.
At first, her eyes sweep past me, then snap back to my face an instant later. My heart pounds in my chest as our eyes connect.
I see you too.
She swallows hard and brings the glass to her lips. Lifting mine as well, I offer her a silent salute and chuckle when she looks behind her, over one shoulder then the next.
I smile. She’s refreshing. Doesn’t appear to be high maintenance. An interesting mix of fresh but vibrant. Strong yet timid. I haven’t been this instantly fascinated by a woman in many years.
“Are you certain I can’t arrange an introduction?” Logan asks, his voice amused.
I don’t take my eyes off her, even as she turns away, her sweet ass swaying under the dipping back of her dress. She sets her glass down, rejects another potential suitor, then glances back up at me. It’s a good sign.
“It’s opening night. I’m needed here.”
“Bullshit. Club X is a well-oiled machine.”
It’s true. And I’ve been bored out of mind the past few hours.
Fuck it. I haven’t taken time off for myself in months. “Do we have a private room available?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Logan tap his iPad. I could have done it myself, but my interests are otherwise engaged. “Actually, we do.”
“Book it. Have the staff send chocolates, strawberries, and champagne.”
I can see, practically feel, my friend grinning but ignore him. “Yes, Master X.” He slaps me on the back. “Welcome back to the saddle.” Then he’s gone, leaving me to watch her pretend like she isn’t watching me.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rylee Swann loves to write! She is often be found in her writing cave located in the ‘burbs of New York City. That’s Long Island for people in the know. Her day job is a marketing manager which keeps her super busy.
She doesn’t know how she finds the time to write but does because it’s in her blood!
Her readers are the most important people in the world to her. That means YOU!
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COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Rylee Swann
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
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