Page 28 of A Pawn in the Game
“I’m on the list,” I say. The taller one raises his eyebrows, so I add, “Charles’ list.”
He dips his head, stepping to the side to let me through. Next up is the reception desk with a hot, young hostess, dressed in goth from head to toe.
“Good evening. Can I have your name?”
“I’m on Charles’ list.”
Her mouth parts on an ‘oh.’ “He’s waiting for you in the VIP booth.”
“Thank you,” I say, making my way through the door.
Lace & Leather, or L&L for short, is a franchise of sex clubs with top-notch security. The only reason I’m allowed to enter without ID, or membership, is my relationship with the owner, Charles. If I were to become an official member, my name would quickly get out, making this a dangerous place both for me and the patrons of the club.
The place is packed full. A long mahogany bar splays on one side of the massive room, booths adorning the other side. There is an aerial dancer on the dimly lit stage, spinning on a free hanging pole completely naked.
I make my way to the back of the room, to a single, secluded booth.
“Ah, good evening, my friend.” Charles’s eyes wrinkle at the sides. He’s a handsome guy in his fifties, wealth and power exuding out of him. It’s apparent in his stature, in the custom-made suits he wears, and in the Patek Philippe watch weighing on his wrist. A woman sits next to him, her long, red nails wrapped tightly around his arm.
“Thank you for having me.” And for not saying my name in front of this random woman. Her gaze travels over my form while she licks her bottom lip.Smooth.Her full lips are as red as her nails, her fancy gown showing a substantial amount of cleavage.
“How about you head to the member’s only area? The late show has already started. Carmen and I’ll be right there.” He gestures to another bodyguard to let me through.
I grab a whiskey at the bar and head to the door marked “Members Only.” The guard purses his lips but lets me through. Inside hosts a smaller version of the bar outside, but instead of a stage, the booths are all facing a room with a glass partition. The lighting’s dimmer, and there’s no sultry music blasting through the speakers.
The silence would be heavy if not for the smacks of a paddle on naked flesh and moans from the woman receiving them. I settle down into the booth closest to the glass partition, downing my drink. An older, imposing man sits on a leather couch, with the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. His hand lifts high, slowly, holding a black wooden paddle before crashing down on the already reddened skin. This time, the woman hisses, her eyes closing to protect herself from the pain. Jet black hair falls to the floor as she’s splayed across the man’s knees, her tight maroon dress lifted just enough to reveal her ass. It’s a handful, and the man takes his chance to get a good grip on it after every smack.
“Pretty good, huh?” I haven’t even noticed Charles and his date slip into the booth next to me, transfixed by the sight in front of me.
“For him, yeah. For us, too,” Carmen responds as the man lands another smack and the woman’s eyes water. “For her, I’m not sure.”
Charles nods to the bartender to bring us more drinks before shaking his head. “I’d argue she’s getting the most out of this.”
“How so?” She glances at Charles.
“She’s being liberated. Of doubts, guilt, expectations.” He lifts a glass to his lips. “And of course, she’ll be rewarded for it.”
It’s a lesson Charles taught me years ago, the first time I visited one of his clubs.
Sure enough, a loud wail escapes the woman after a particularly loud smack and the man drops the paddle, placing both of his palms on her ass and massaging roughly. One hand snakes down to her slit, and she is so soaked that we can hear it as he slipshis fingers in. Her moans turn to breathy whimpers as tears still pour down her face, and in only a few seconds, she’s crying out her orgasm, her ass jerking up and down with spasms.
Blood rushes to my groin and I look away. Carmen stares at the scene in awe. Boy, does she have a world of fun in front of her.
I clear my throat, trying to keep my wits. “You pay them?”
Charles releases a chuckle. “I don’t. The dancers out front are hired. The shows here are put on by volunteers.”
“They do this for free?” The woman settles down, and the man strips her out of her dress.
“Don’t tell me you’re also underestimating the amount of pleasure they’re getting from this.”
“And if some were to ask you to pay them?”
“I’d do that in a heartbeat. I’m not forcing any of these people to do anything. And that’s the beauty of Lace & Leather. They’re free to do what they like. You’re free to do what you like.” He clinks his glass to mine and gets up. “Now, I have my own matters to attend to. Have some fun, Luka. You deserve it.”
I dip my head in response, my eyes barely registering the blow-job scene in front of me. He’s not forcing them, of course.But could I guarantee the same for my uncle?
My hand signals for another drink, the alcohol slowly heating my insides. There’s a two drink maximum at L&L, but once again, the rules are bent for me. I’d like to say Charles respects me, but the truth is, he owes me. He owes me his life. He was a little fish in a big pond when he opened his club, with only a dream and some startup money. No connections. Soon, the mobsters came knocking, as we typically do. He’d be six feet under if I hadn't saved him and his club.
