Page 8 of Black Velvet

I skeptically survey my appearance in the mirror. White isnotmy color. With my pale complexion and platinum-blonde locks framing my face, it makes me look like a ghost. Black suits me better.

Madam made the final decision about clothing colors; it wasn't my choice.White was for the innocent angels, black for the naughty devils.

Sandi is sporting the latter.

"So, you're not nervous?" she repeats her earlier question.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I see her lips curve into a smile when I offer a tight nod. "Oh, yes, I am."

She sighs with relief. "It's not just me then. Thank God."

"I have never done this," I say, now turning to her. "I don't even know what to expect out there."

Sandi huffs. "Well, at least you only have to talk to them, share a few drinks, listen to their boring stories. That should be easy enough, right?"

I shrug. Truth is, I'm terrified. I have never done something like this before. I’ve never just spent time talking, drinking, providing company to someone without it also including being paid to have sex with them. I hate to admit it, but somehow it seems so much easier to fuck someone than to have to talk to them all evening.

When I told Miss Barry about my concerns, she stopped me with a dismissive wave of her hand and told me to just treat every conversation like it was a normal first date. Engage in lighthearted conversation, but nothing too intimate or too risky, no talk about politics or religion, flirt a little, but not too much, provide a little touching here and there, but nothing too suggestive. I remind myself that I'm wearing white, after all, and need to adhere to the rules inside The Velvet Rooms.

"Easy enough," I say, repeating Sandi's words.

We stand in silence next to each other, both checking our profiles out one last time, before it’s time to stride through the door, our chests pushed out, heads held high, radiating confidence that is as fake as our eyelashes. We allow ourselves one last moment of weakness, our nervous gazes meeting again in the reflection of the mirror.

"Godspeed," Sandi says in a low voice.

I smirk at her. "I don't think He'd approve of this."

She giggles and gives me a little nudge in the side. She flinches when she makes contact with one of the steel strings of my corset instead of me.

A hiss escapes her lips. "Damn!"

"That'll teach you," I say. "Don't mess with an angel in white."

"Play with the devils instead," she counters, winking at me. "Let's go, you little slut."

"Right back at ya."

She squeals when I land a loving slap on her firm ass. Years of friendship lessen the awkwardness of such a move, as Sandi and I go way back. We've even served clients together as part of a menage a trois, becoming far more intimate with one another than most best friends ever do.

I follow behind her, admiring the artistic design her body is sculpted into by the lavish lingerie. It's a harness design, enveloping her curves with an array of strings that travel across her skin like lacy snakes. The beautiful set is a lot more revealing than my outfit. Her bare ass is on display under a richly adorned garter belt, strapped to the left and right by black garters that hold up her sheer stockings.

We exit the dressing room, joining a group of white angels and black devils in the foyer. As a group we gather in front of a massive dark red velvet curtain that shields our view from the main guest room. We all received a site tour a few days ago, but it was still being readied for the grand opening tonight. It was lacking the final touches for this evening, the drinks, bartenders, and most importantly, the guests.

Tonight is different. It's opening night—and they're waiting for us.

My heart rate quickens as the realization sets in.

Focus.

No mistakes. Not tonight.

Chapter 7

Damon

They didn't skimp on tonight's event, that's for sure.

When I first saw the gray brick building a few months ago, I thought it was nothing but an old ruin. It looked like a miniature version of a rundown European castle built by an aristocrat who didn’t have the means to build a real palace centuries ago, and then didn’t have any heirs to keep the place intact for future generations. As it turns out, my assumption wasn’t too far off, only that the building isn't as old as it appears and it wasn't built by a family, but by local officials.

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