Page 10 of Tempted By Eden

I shake my head at their antics and settle back in my chair, letting the hairstylist and makeup artist work their magic. While they transform my look, I work up the courage to ask Hailee a few questions, curious to know more about this world I’m stepping into.

“So… how long have you worked for Madame Sophia?” I ask, glancing at Hailee in the mirror.

“Hmm, about three years now, I think?” she replies, her expression thoughtful. “It was just supposed to be a temporary gig while I finished my accounting degree. But once I started, the money was too good to pass up, and I got hooked on the lifestyle.” She shrugs. “After I graduated, I started working here full-time. I handle admin during the day and serve drinks most nights. I only do Le Jardin every now and then.”

“Do you like working for Madame Sophia? You think you’ll ever go back to accounting?” I ask.

“I love it. She’s wonderful to work for.” Her lips curve into a smile. “To be honest… I’m not sure if I’ll go back. The money is just too good.”

Before I have a chance to ask another question, the stylists proclaim they’re done. The woman staring back at me in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. I look sexy as hell. My hair falls around my face in big Hollywood curls, and my makeup is flawless—eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass and lashes that could bat someone to death. Soft pink lips and rosy cheeks perfectly complement my pale skin.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I turn to Hailee. “So, what happens now?”

“It’s showtime!” she says with a beaming smile.

***

Eight hours later, I slide my key into the front door and give it a hard shove. The wood groans against the frame before finally giving way with a loud creak, and I stumble. The porch dips awkwardly, forcing me to take a large step over the threshold. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, considering I’ve lived here all my life. There are so many things wrong with this house, it’s practically falling apart. Unfortunately, repairs aren’t exactly high on the priority list right now.

I exhale loudly as the door closes behind me. Tonight, I made a thousand dollars. That should feel like a relief, but it won’t last two seconds in my account. It’s just enough to cover the back log of electricity bills. I’ve been lucky that Leo’s kindergarten hasn’t pressed for the voluntary contribution payments—one small relief.

My body sags, overwhelmed by sheer exhaustion. My feet are killing me, my muscles are sore, and my eyes burn from the combination of thick makeup and lack of sleep. I’m definitely more of a sit-behind-a-desk kind of girl than one for manual labor. But honestly, what a rush. What a night.

It was exhilarating to watch the power dynamics play out in that room. I could’ve easily sat at the bar for hours, just watching the night unfold. The men were all respectful to the goddesses, and it was essentially simple waitressing, just as Madame Sophia had promised—but kinky. And I loved every minute of it.

The entire club reeked of sex, and it was impossible not to be affected by it. The way the air seemed to crackle with lust left me on a high I haven’t felt in a long time. Even now with my muscles aching, the excitement remains. I’m more alive than I have been in years. Deep down, I know I’m already hooked.

The flickering light from the TV casts a glow down the hallway. When I step into the living room, I find Dad reclined in his armchair, watching a rerun of a game show.

“You’re still up? It’s two in the morning,” I say, surprised to find him awake.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He lets out a long yawn, stretching his jaw wide.

“You in any pain?” I frown.

“I’m fine,” he reassures me with a small smile. “Woke up about an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep. How’d it go tonight?”

“It went well. I’m going to take the job.” I stifle a yawn of my own. Dad knows I’m doing bar work at a club called Eden, but I’ve kept the specifics under wraps. That would be an awkward conversation, to say the least. “Leo went to bed okay?”

“Yep, he’s fine. He’s such a funny little bunny,” Dad says with a chuckle.

“Why? What’d he do this time?”

“He was on the toilet and looked down between his legs to watch it drop, but he wasn’t ready for the splashback.” He laughs quietly. “It got him right between the eyes.”

“Oh, geez, Dad, that’s gross.” I wince, rubbing my tired eyes. Still, I can’t help but laugh along with him. I often wonder what these two get up to when I’m not around.

“Well, on that lovely note, I’m heading to bed. You staying up?”

“Yeah, for a little while.” His attention drifts back to the TV. “When’s your next shift?”

“This Saturday night. Are you okay to watch Leo again?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” I give his shoulder a gentle squeeze as I pass. “Night.”

Each step feels like an effort as I haul my aching legs toward my room. Once inside, I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, letting the events of the night play through my mind. It feels surreal, like slipping into an alternate reality—a place where power, control, and pleasure exchange hands as effortlessly as currency.

---