Page 29 of Bloody Lace

Desire pulses through me, on the verge of painful as we drive across the city to the club. I take the elevator up from the parking garage, Vik at my back, and step into the cool, lemongrass scented lobby of the Vault.

Inside, the light is low and warm, the walls a soothing dark green with dark wood wainscoting and gleaming dark wooden floors. A pretty, slender woman in a black pencil skirt and white sleeveless blouse with straight dark hair below her shoulderssmiles at me from behind the desk, her expression calm and pleasant.

“May I see your membership ID, Mr.---”

“Yashkov.” As soon as I say my name, she straightens a little more, a nervous smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry for not recognizing you, Mr. Yashkov. Of course, go right in.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” I tell her with a reassuring smile. “I haven’t been by in some time. My security will be coming with me,” I add, gesturing towards Vik, and she bobs her head quickly.

“Of course.”

I walk through the dark lacquered door at the end of the lobby, up a flight of stairs directly to the left in the small room just beyond it with the coat check, to the second floor. This is the first of four floors, with the expansive lounge, the club room just beyond, and the smaller private rooms to the back of the floor. The second floor has the spa and spa lounge, and the third is the hotel floor, with a gourmet restaurant and bedrooms available for guests to stay for an additional fee, with or without company—also for an additional fee according to their menu of services.

“You can stay at the bar,” I tell Vik. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

Vik nods, heading for the circular bar to the right of the lounge, near the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the cityscape beyond. I head towards the back, to one of the private rooms.

The bouncer at the front of the hall nods to me as I walk past. I go to one of the rooms at the very back, a small space with an oval stage in the center that has a pole running up to the ceiling, and a long leather couch that takes up most of the back wall. There’s a small table to one side with a phone and a leather-backed book, as well as a clothbound menu with the list of drinks that can be ordered and brought to the room.

The leather-bound book has photos and services for all of the girls available on the day shift, but I don’t need to bother looking through it. I reach for the phone, dialing 0 for the house manager.

“Hello?” Celia’s bright voice comes across the line, and I lean back, feeling the relief of knowing that I’ll shortly have what I need, sent directly to me without question. There are definite perks to the life I live, and this is one of them.

“It’s Dimitri. I’m in the blue room. Send Miri back with a vodka lime, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Ten minutes later, the door opens, and one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever known walks in. Miri knows me—we’ve spent time together before, and I see her eyes light up when she sees me sitting on the couch. Her strawberry blonde hair is up in a high ponytail today, her powder-blue lingerie suiting her rosy complexion perfectly, from the lace push-up bra edged in silver to the lace panties that sit just on the edge of her sharp hip bones. She’s wearing silver high-heels, the drink in her hand, and as she sways towards me with a smile on her lips I feel my cock—which hasn’t softened since I left Evelyn’s—throb.

Miri offers a full list of services, most of which I’ve availed myself of before. I can have her any way I want. If I want her to dance for me while I get myself off, she’ll do that. I could have her mouth, her pussy, her ass, or all three, one after another. And, since I’m one of the owners of the club, it won’t even cost me, aside from the more than generous tip I always leave her.

The tip, I know, is why she’s smiling at me. The fact that she knows that not only will I make sure she gets off, too, I’ll leave her at least five thousand on the side table when I go. That’s why she’s so pleased to see me.

Not because she wants me. Not because she lusts after me, badly enough to make herself angry, badly enough to hurt me to get me away from her so she can stop feeling it. Not like Evelyn.

Because this is her job, and I’ll pay her better than most clients she’ll see today.

“Mr. Yashkov?” Miri looks at me from where she’s standing, still holding my drink, her expression faltering slightly. She can tell something is off, that I’m not entirely here. And as I look at her, I try to picture doing any of the things I might want with her.

I could tell her to get on her knees and suck me off. I could even close my eyes and picture Evelyn while she does it. I could have her sit on my lap and bounce on my cock until I get the release I so desperately need. But every fantasy that flits through my head leaves me hollow.

Hollow, and guilty, despite the fact that Evelyn and I aren’t married yet, and nothing between us is real.

“Set the drink there.” I nod to the table next to me. “And then you can go.”

“Mr. Yashkov—” Miri breaks off, disappointment clear on her face. But I knowwhyshe’s disappointed, and I reach into my jacket pocket, slipping out a billfold.

“Here.” I hand her ten folded hundred dollar bills. “I’ll leave an additional tip for you on my way out. Just leave the drink there.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, but I see the instant disappointment turns to relief that she quickly tries to hide, and I know that was the right call. She’s relieved that she won’t have to fuck me, that she’s going to get paid without having to give me any kind of sexual favors. And that’s all I need to know that Miri isn’t what I want right now.

Whatever pleasure she could give me, it wouldn’t compare to that kiss with Evelyn. My cock aches, remembering it, and Ibarely make it until the door closes behind Miri before my hand is at my zipper, dragging it down.

I reach for my drink with one hand, tossing the vodka back as I palm my cock free with the other, my fingers wrapping around it as I let out a hiss of pleasure at the relief of skin on skin. With the burn of the vodka still in my throat, I find the bottle of lube tucked discreetly on one side of the table, and uncap it, letting go of my cock only long enough to pour some into my palm before wrapping my fist around my shaft again.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way I get myself off. There might have been times in the past where I’ve taken my time jerking off, wanting to drag out the pleasure, but the only thing in my mind right now is how badly I need to come. I lean back, spreading my legs as I cup my balls with my other hand, my fist dragging up and down my stiff length in harsh strokes as I summon the memory of Evelyn’s mouth under mine.

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