Chapter 4

I am not surprised by his vague answer. He has never been open about his personal life in all the time I’ve known him.

“How does it work, getting assigned to someone?”

I lean forward to pick up my drink again.

“If we get to the point where we’d consider your application, we have some forms that you need to fill out.” I take a sip. “We ask you about your experience, things that you’re interested in, things that you’re not.” His eyebrow twitches at that, and I wonder if there is much that he wouldn’t be interested in trying. “Then we have profiles for everyone who works here, and we match you with someone who is most suitable for your… needs,” I explain. “We complete background checks, and as long as nothing comes back, you can begin as soon as your first payment clears.”

“I’m sure it’ll clear.”

“I have no doubt. I am not oblivious to who you are, Mr. Reid.”

This time, his eyebrow does rise. I give him a closed-lip smile, suddenly feeling a lot more confident in this scenario than I did at the start.

“What do you need to see to consider my application?” he asks.

“I need to see what you want,” I say coyly, putting my drink down and standing up. He instantly stands as well. I walk up to him, keeping his eyes locked on mine, and when I’m right in front of him, I look down to place my hand on his chest. It’s another tactic that helps my clients get into the atmosphere, and while I had previously written this off as something I wasn’t going to do to my boss, the conversation progressed, and I found myself itching to touch him.

So, I do.

My hand runs down his chest, then I slide it across his stomach until my fingers are running down his forearm. I flutter my eyes back up to look at him, feeling a rush of excitement at seeing him staring down at me, and I take the glass out of his hand, bending slightly to put it on the table beside me.

“Follow me,” I whisper when I straighten back up, and once again, I head off across the room, knowing he’s already following me.

I pass the bar, and Nico holds up two different numbers on his fingers—two and four. It’s a silent gesture to tell me which rooms are occupied, showing Mr. Reid the opposite of what I can provide here.

Each room in the club has a one-way mirror. There is a door that the staff and the clients enter from, opposite the mirror. Behind the mirrors is a walkway, accessible only by a door that only workers have a key to. The door is also conveniently next to the guard post so that they can monitor who goes in and out. It isn’t usual for clients to be in the rooms by themselves; not everybody consents to being watched. As for the rooms Nico mentioned, though, those clients agreed to being watched in their applications.

I nod to Kai at the post, who smiles back at me. I unlock the door, pushing it open and glancing behind me to see David not even two steps away.

The hallway is dimly lit, but once I unveil the one-way mirrors, they let in more light. As I walk, I continue my screening process.

“What are you primarily interested in?” I ask.

“What are the options?” he counters, and I turn back to look ahead so that I can hide my smile. I know these debating skills from the boardrooms—getting others to answer first.

“The main aspects are either domination or submission. We get a lot of clients interested in both; some have a particular… fondness for one over the other. Then we explore your specific interests within each dynamic. You just need to choose which role you take.” I stop walking as I reach Room Two and turn to face him. He stops in front of me, so close that I can almost feel his suit grazing me.

“I’ve never been very good at submitting,” he says with a playful look on his face.

“You would be surprised how many businessmen think that, only for it to turn out to be the one thing they needed,” I whisper, making the look fall off his face. I reach out to my side and flick a switch, the one that reveals the room through the mirror. His head immediately turns.

Then he steps forward, taking in the scene.

Harper is sitting in a plush armchair, eating an apple, with one of her clients kneeling on the floor beside her. His neck is enclosed in a collar with a leash attached, which she keeps loosely looped around her wrist while ignoring him. David watches with curiosity as the client looks up at her, then quickly back at the ground, but she notices anyway.

“Did I say you could move, Dylan?” Harper asks in a deceitfully sweet voice.

“No, I’m sorry, my Love. I’m so sorry,” the client rushes to say, his gaze returning to the floor.

But Harper doesn’t let it slide. She gets out of the chair, tugging on the leash to make him follow her. She puts her apple down and picks up the riding crop from the table, turning back to him.

“Down,” she orders, and Dylan immediately presses his face to the ground. Her foot comes to rest on his shoulder blade, allowing her access to his backside as it rises in the air.

“This is a submission?” David asks, his voice breaking slightly in the middle of his words, his eyes never leaving the scene as the sharp crack of the whip resounds through the room, making contact with Dylan’s skin.

I step forward, running my hand up his arm, over his shoulder, and down his back, leaning into his ear.

“He isn’t very good at it, but yes, he’s the submissive,” I whisper. I don’t miss the way the corner of his lip twitches upward. “They have been working together for a long time, so it isn’t always evenings full of sex. This brings him just as much pleasure—the rules, the structure, knowing when he’ll get punished and what for. He also has a thing for heels, so she’s making sure he focuses on those.”

I take my hand off him as I see him breathe deeply.

“As I said, a lot of businessmen prefer this aspect. Their days are so chaotic that they need this predictability to really let go,” I say before clicking the switch off and bringing his attention back to me. I turn to head to Room Four, leaving him in silence to think over what he observed.

As I reach Room Four, my hand hovers over the switch, and it isn’t until I feel his body close to my shoulder that I turn it on.

This scene is different.

Sophia, my colleague, is tied upright in a box frame, her hands and feet secured at each corner, spreading her limbs as far as possible. The client, someone I know, is relatively new to the club, is tying a blindfold over her eyes, kissing her gently before moving away, and I see her smile.

Dominants are never dominant enough here, I think, and I know she’s thinking the same. They always try to make sure they’re soft enough not to cause us real pain, checking to make sure we’re okay in between.

As the client moves to the desk, I notice the difference in David’s reaction. Room Two was curiosity and observation. This room, however, draws his absolute focus. His eyes are fixed on Sophia, running over the frame and her position. I notice his chest moving more pronouncedly—slow but noticeable, as if he’s trying to control his breathing.

The client picks up a nine-tails. It’s one of my favorites, too. Feeling a dull ache in my core, I suddenly feel a little desperate to do something, to touch something.

And the only thing in the vicinity is Reid.

I run my hand over his shoulder, then push gently, urging him to sit on the stool in front of the mirror. He does it without even looking back at me, and that action alone makes me bite my lip. I move behind him, my other hand moving to his opposite shoulder, taking my time as I slide my hands over him, toward his chest. My mouth moves close to his ear.

“This client is new, so it’s more about exploring bodies, finding out what works for him and for her,” I whisper, my fingers expertly undoing the top two buttons of his shirt while he just stares intently ahead.

I slide my hand under his shirt, my fingernails grazing over his skin. I want to close my eyes as I feel the hair and muscles under my palm. I can feel the slight thump of his heartbeat as the client walks around Sophia, dragging the ends of the nine-tails over her skin, both of us watching her shiver and squirm in the restraints.

When his hand suddenly grabs my wrist, I freeze. Then I remove my hands, walk around him, and flick the switch off. I only need to give potential new members a taste, and we’ve both had that by now.

He clears his throat and stands, adjusting his waistband as subtly as he can. The movement isn’t subtle to me, however, as I’ve seen hundreds of men do it in a hundred different ways.

“So, what seems the most interesting to you, Mr. Reid?” I ask as smoothly as I can, with him staring down at me, his pupils blown wide.

“That one,” he breathes, and I nod, half-expecting that answer. “Do I get to choose who I match with?”

“We can note it down, but if the person you want doesn’t share your preferences, there isn’t much I can do.”

“What about you?” he asks, stepping forward.

“What about me?” I say, with a slight stutter that I internally curse myself for.

“I want to dominate. And I want to dominate you.”