Page 15 of Dirty Intentions

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have you here. The numbers can’t be correct because our membership rates are up.”

I lifted a brow, trying to ignore the masculine scent of him. A mixture of mint, body wash, and pure, virile male. “I’ll focus on your costs, then. Maybe they’ve grown. How long has Eric done your books?” Although my ex was not trustworthy, I’d never known him to be a sloppy accountant.

He shook his head. “The last two years. I did them before that.”

“Explain how the business works, according to the IRS. I mean, obviously, they don’t know you’re a sex club.”

He sighed but took a seat while digging out the contents from the bag and handing over a cheesesteak. “Club Travesty is a bar and membership-only club. We operate as such.”

“Then how do members pay for sex?”

He shook his head. “Careful, that would be illegal. Members do not pay for sex. They pay for a membership, which allows them certain perks. The sort of perks depend on the level of membership. We have everything from the basic level, which has been very popular over the last few years and is essentially sexual counseling, to what we call our boyfriend package, and on to the hard-core, dominant-submissive type of play.”

“What is the boyfriend package?” Rather than wanting to know for tax purposes, I found myself fascinated.

“It’s where women can take sexual lessons. Gain back their confidence or learn—”

“To have a proper orgasm?”

Suddenly I realized my interest was much more than just gaining a working knowledge of the club.

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