Page 38 of Forbidden Heroes

“Sir, I hate to interrupt?—”

“Go ahead, Mr. Russell. I have a few moments before I’m needed,” I state flatly.

“Sir, it’s about the scholarship fund.”

Half the wall of my private suite is a two-way mirror. Right now the lights in my room are dimmed, and I have a perfect view overlooking the main floor of the sex club. Three bells chime, signaling first show of the evening is about to start.

“What about it?” I ask a little impatiently.

Lights on the outer edges of the room dim as a plump, beautiful blonde, collared submissive is led to the middle of the stage between two equally handsome Masters who I know are her husbands. They like to play in front of others, and the club indulges their fantasies.

It’s how all these evenings begin. A highly erotic scene aimed at getting everyone hot and horny and then auction off the willing participants to members willing to dish out thousands of dollars all in the name of one charity or some worthy cause or another. What they get in exchange is anything from a wonderful evening in great company or sex. Club rules leave the choice up to those being auctioned as long as consent is established.

I listen to the man on the other end of the phone tell me there’s not enough money in the current scholarship program to go around as I watch through the glass.

This makes the fifth auction I’ve sponsored and hosted this year in name and face only. I never walk away with a prize. But my family’s name draws in other wealthy donors all in the name of helping those in need, and that I can’t walk away from.

I can only hope it helps to erase the black stain my father left on it before it’s my time to stand in front of St. Peter.

“I’ll raise the limit to twenty-five million. Funds will be available tomorrow afternoon. I need you to send me the first twenty applicants on the list directly. I want to review them myself.”

There’s a long silence on the other end. “But sir.”

“But nothing, Mr. Russell. Listen and listen carefully. My money, my school, my scholarship all mean my way. I’m not in agreement with the little funding being given to students I personally see in need of the scholarship funds, and I want to know why. I want a review of all scholarships issued in the last five years. It’s why my family established this place, Mr. Russell.”

That’s only half truth. My grandfather established this university nearly seventy years ago, but my father abused it cleaning dirty money. But that’s a little-known fact and one I’ve worked damn hard in burying.

“While you’re at it, gather all the information on a current student at Blackthorne. Her name is Rosalee Johnson. I’ll be back in my office tomorrow morning. Have all the applicants ready and on my desk by that time.”

I hang up before the head of the scholarship board can find his voice. I don’t have a problem being the asshole boss and stepping on toes when a job is not done to my level of satisfaction.

A familiar Lux waitress dressed in nothing but black glittery pasties, heels that make her legs look endless and a leather thong strolls in and quietly places a fresh tumbler of whiskey in my hand.

I offer a tight smile of thanks, but my eyes are on the group of women in white robes standing along the back wall waiting to be auctioned off as the ménage sex scene comes to a close. One raven-haired woman, in particular, has my attention.

I won’t let another man take her. I don’t care if that makes me selfish. I’ll purchase her time and then send her home with her cut of the money she came here seeking tonight.

Sara smiles up at me, batting her lashes as she draws her finger across my chest.

“All alone, Mr. Blackthorne? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Another time, sweetheart,” I reply, taking her hand from me gently and giving it a squeeze. She gets the hint and withdraws, sashaying her naked ass to the door.

She stops turning back over her shoulder to say, “I’ll hold you to that. In the meantime, five minutes for the auction if you’d like to join. I left your mask on the table.” She points to a small table in front of a leather sofa that faces the mirror.

“Thank you, Sara.”

I down the whiskey, tie on my mask and take my private elevator three floors down to the main floor.

My footfalls sound on polished white marble as I find my usual table in the far corner where the rim of the spotlight doesn’t reach. Chandeliers dim overhead.

A delicate woman’s voice rings out over the crowd, and all the whisperings and chatter hush into silence.

“Masters and Mistresses, ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a garden of beauties to entertain our senses and our purses. There’s someone for everyone’s taste and desires I assure you, so let’s begin.”

As the auctioneer begins, the women to be auctioned off are brought out one by one. The robes are discarded in favor of simple white thongs paired with nipple covers, and deep blue masks which cover half their faces. Swaying hips, ample breasts and beautiful smiles catch the eyes of every man and woman in this room. Though each just as beautiful the next, none hold my attention.

As the evening comes to a close, I stand, thinking I had been wrong about Rosalee coming here this evening, when the auctioneer speaks.

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