Chapter 7
Damon
They didn't skimp on tonight's event, that's for sure.
When I first saw the gray brick building a few months ago, I thought it was nothing but an old ruin. It looked like a miniature version of a rundown European castle built by an aristocrat who didn’t have the means to build a real palace centuries ago, and then didn’t have any heirs to keep the place intact for future generations. As it turns out, my assumption wasn’t too far off, only that the building isn't as old as it appears and it wasn't built by a family, but by local officials.
Located on the outskirts of the city, the building was originally designed to be a themed hotel, one resembling a castle that was connected to a park-like setting with a swimming pool. It was meant to be a getaway for families who wanted to experience Europe, but couldn't afford to travel to the Old Country. The whole idea sounds tacky to me, and I'm not surprised it never played out the way city planners intended. Once shut down, the building was left to deteriorate, that is, until the high-class escort agency approached the city with an attractive offer.
My business intuition tells me that The Velvet Rooms will be extremely successful, I have great trust in The Velvet Rooms, and it shows in the money I was willing to invest in this venture. My financial adviser was less enthusiastic about this than he was about the deal with Scott and his tech start-up, but I'm pretty sure his reluctance was based on prejudice more than it was on actual business sense. Scott's tech start-up may have been more conservative than The Velvet Rooms business model, but if you ask me, it's not any less risky of a business investment.
The Velvet Rooms has a lot going for it, starting with the location. It's perfect for this type of dark, kinky establishment. The brick walls corroded by years of neglect and weather have been extensively renovated, and now complement the modernized Victorian décor on the inside. It really resembles a miniature version of an old castle, the walls lined with damask wallpaper under the antique tin ceiling and underscored red lighting.
Today is the first time I’ve seen the main room since that very first tour a few months ago. I was invited to check in on the progress of renovations since then, but I refused the offer, so as not to ruin the overarching effect of the grand opening.
The agency has been heavily promoting tonight's grand opening, as well as the club in general for the past few weeks. I have no inside knowledge about their client files, but based on the number of clients present tonight, it appears that Miss Barry was telling the truth when she said that the invitation process would be highly selective.
The main receiving room housing the open bar, lounge, and public play stage provides enough space for about a hundred people, and maybe a few more. By my estimations, the number of guests invited tonight doesn’t total more than a fifth of that. There are two lounge areas, and I’ve positioned myself in a plush leather arm chair at the far end of the larger one of the two. The extravagant velvet-tufted button furniture rests on a platform, slightly elevated above the rest of the room, which allows for a good view across the entire main hall.
Another gentleman, probably about fifteen years my senior, sits across from me. Like me, he has one arm resting on the backrest of the sofa and is holding a scotch in the other hand. We haven't spoken a single word, though we greeted one another with a mute nod when we sat down. The majority of the other guests are scattered throughout the room, with plenty of distance between one another, doing the same thing, sitting in silence, nursing a drink. The only sound is the mellow jazz music playing in the background, occasionally interrupted by a whisper here and there, or the low intonation of a waitress taking an order.
We're still waiting for the main event, the big reveal of the heart and soul of The Velvet Rooms. Angels and devils.
The girls.
My anxious gaze rests on the heavy blood-red-colored velvet curtain shielding the guests from seeing what awaits behind it on the play stage. Only the occasional fluttering of the velvet drapes hints at the nervous tension and sexual energy lying behind it.
I wonder if she's there.
It's been more than half a year, but I haven't forgotten about her, the blonde beauty who walked past me the day Miss Barry introduced me to the idea of The Velvet Rooms. I've had other girls since then, some provided by the agency. Others I picked up in the regular fashion, just easy bimbos, all too willing to spread their legs for me after I treated them to a few drinks and fed them a few lines that turned out to be no more than unkept promises.
I wouldn't say the only reason I fucked them was to forget about her, but there was a part of me that was hoping that would happen. It's rare for me to get this hooked on someone, let alone a girl I've never touched, never even spoken to.
I just saw her for a fleeting moment; her ice-blue eyes met mine for a split second, and it revealed nothing about her. It was just a moment in time, a short one at that. Yet I can’t deny the impact her brief appearance left on me.
I tried asking Miss Barry about her several times over the past few months, but she was reluctant to answer any questions. She only hinted that she might possibly be involved with The Velvet Rooms when they opened. Her vague answers aggravated me to no end. But even when I threatened to withdraw my personal investment in the club, Miss Barry did not cave to the pressure. I despise her persistence at retaining her associates’ privacy as much as I respect it.
"Another drink, Sir Graves?" a voice pipes next to me.
I turn at the sound of the high-pitched voice, not having noticed the young waitress coming up to this section. She's standing right next to me, bending forward, her short, skintight skirt barely covering her tiny ass and her tits stretching the form-fitting, high-necked top. The waitresses all wear the same outfit, one that seductively combines chastity with naughtiness in a way I've never seen before. While their lower bodies scream sex with short skirts and frilly fishnet stockings, their upper bodies are completely covered in dark fabric that only reveals the shape of their bodies but no skin.
I shake my head. "I'm good for now."
She casts me a polite smile before walking away, swinging her hips seductively, drawing my eyes instantly to her ass. My attention is distracted when the music changes, and I notice that a spotlight has been switched on to illuminate the stage area to my right. I squint at the bright light, but not nearly as much as the person who steps onstage a moment later.
Miss Belinda Barry is as elegant as ever, and the midnight-black burlesque suit she's wearing effectively combines class with a hint of kink. Her straight dark hair is pulled back in a tight up-do, and her gold stilettos accent the jeweled piece holding her hair. The room falls silent, all eyes transfixed as she lifts the microphone to her lips. They're painted in a deep red that's identical to the color of the velvet curtain behind her.
"Gentlemen," she says, her smile dancing with promise. "It's been a long wait, but tonight I'm finally able to say the magic words: Welcome to The Velvet Rooms!"
She is greeted with a round of polite but cautious applause. I'm not a fan of empty phrases and inflated words of welcome, so I tune out while Miss Barry continues her little speech, greeting, thanking, and promoting like the professional she is. I see her lips moving, but fail to listen. In fact, the longer she keeps talking, the more impatient I grow.
My focus returns when she steps aside and lifts her arm in a sweeping gesture, and the curtain behind her peels away, revealing the women dressed provocatively as angels and devils waiting behind it. Long-legged girls stride to the front of the stage, paired in duos of black and white—an angel for each devil—groomed and styled to perfection, and with model-perfect smiles on their faces.
Each of them is the epitome of beauty, radiating sex, confidence, and class as they walk down the stage in pairs, presenting themselves to the attentive audience.
But there's only one girl who captures my attention for more than a moment.
A long, lithe body with porcelain skin, platinum-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and rosy cheeks, dressed from head to toe in virgin white with rose-gold accents.
White.
She's a goddamn angel.