Chapter 8: Amy
“I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said as I stepped off the bus that ferried me, Serena, and a dozen other young women from the parking garage where we left Serena’s car (a brand-new BMW) to the estate that housed Club D. It was all very mysterious, and a little too cloak and dagger for my suspecting nature, but Serena assured me this was how it had to be done to protect the club and its members.
I had spent the day getting what Serena called “an extreme makeover”. My long hair was cut, colored, and styled for the first time in months. My face was scrubbed clean, then plied with thick makeup that I thought made me look like a hooker, but Serena said made me look gorgeous. Whatever.
My bush was trimmed to an acceptable density, then waxed into a neat vee. If felt odd, not having the cushion of curls around my clit. It seemed to heighten the sensitivity of my clit. I kept getting little tingles when I walked that my brain was finding hard to ignore. I kept my legs tightly crossed on the bus ride, but there was a warmth in my cunt that I had never felt before. Maybe it was the trim or maybe it was the anticipation of a dream that might come true.
I was wearing a jogging suit and tennis shoes, but I had packed an assortment of clothes for the weekend, including the little black slut dress and stiletto heels Serena liked. My biggest concern was that I wouldn’t be able to walk in four-inch heels.
The bus was comfortable enough, but it was strange having the windows blackened out so we couldn’t see where we were being taken. I was a little claustrophobic and was feeling the anxiety by the time I heard the air brakes hiss and felt us rolling to a stop.
“We’re at the front gate,” Serena said, patting me excitedly on the arm. “The bus will pull around back to the guest house to let us out. The members are dropped out front.”
“Awesome,” I said weakly, mustering a smile. The other girls, all bubbly and excited to start the weekend, were already on their feet pulling their overnight bags from the overhead bins. Serena got to her feet and had our bags down by the time the brakes hissed again and the bus shut off.
“Okay,” she said, making a face like a little kid about to get on a rollercoaster ride. “Follow me.”
We were the last ones off the bus. I won’t lie. I was getting excited about being there. It was like walking out into the great unknown, like taking the first steps on a long journey without knowing where each step might lead.
I stepped off the bus and looked around quickly. We were parked in a wide courtyard between what looked like the back of a grand hotel from the nineteenth century and a smaller mansion that Serena called, “the guest house”. The guest house? Really? Holy shit.
We were approached by a tall, dapper man with steel gray hair and cutting blue eyes. He was immaculately dressed in an expensive pinstripe suit. His yellow tie matched the hankie that was perfectly folded and tucked in his breast pocket.
“Hey, Mr. Lemon, this is my friend Amy that I called about,” Serena said, stepping aside and presenting me with a wave of her hand. “Amy, this is Mr. Lemon, the managing director of Club D.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rossetti,” he said without offering to shake my hand. I noticed that he was holding a clipboard in his left hand. He held out the clipboard and pulled a Monte Blanc pen from his inside pocket.
“We’re pleased to have you with us for the weekend, Miss Rossetti. Before I can allow you to go any further, however, I’ll need you to sign this form.”
I dropped my bag to the cobblestones and took the clipboard. There was a legal document attached. My name was printed at the top and bottom of the document. My signature would avow that I agreed to the document’s terms. “What is this exactly?”
“It is a legally-binding nondisclosure agreement,” he said with a nod. “Stating that you will not divulge, share, report, discuss, or reveal anything you see or hear at this facility under penalty of law.”
“Failure to comply may result in a $250,000 fine and up to five years in jail?” I said after scanning the document, which was standard legal fare. I had signed hundreds of NDA’s over the course of my career. This one, while purposefully made to sound more threatening than most, was nothing new. I glanced up at him with a smile. “You boys don’t mess around, do you?”
“Not without that agreement,” he said with a smile. He nodded again. “If you’ll sign at the bottom and initial the date, you and Serena can be on your way.”
“Well, all right then,” I said, scribbling my name on the dotted line. I handed him the clipboard, he checked the signature, then tucked the clipboard under his arm and stuck out his hand for me to shake. “Welcome to Votre Désire, Miss Rossetti. Consider yourself our guest.”
“Thank you,” I said as I let go of his hand. “It’s my pleasure.”
“Yes, well…” He glanced at Serena, then smiled at me. “I believe that is the whole point of being here, isn’t it?”