by Shayla Black
She wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly. His voice had been low but harsh, as though the single word strained him to say. She didn’t dare ask him to repeat it.
Her gaze found the floor, unable to stand the intensity of his any longer. “I’m sorry about the book, Mr. Quinn. I wasn’t reading during the meeting.”
“Call me Brock,” he corrected her. “It’s refreshing actually. Most people don’t read anymore.”
“It’s just a romance novel,” she muttered. She felt trapped, as though he’d backed her into a corner without moving from the end of the conference table.
“What’s wrong with that? Everyone deserves romance.” He paused as his heavy words sank into her, filtering into her bloodstream. Lily glanced up to find him still watching her as though she was a book he was trying to read. “It’s best not to only look in pages for that though.”
She nodded, accepting the book, grateful that he hadn’t paged through it. But as he drew away, his fingers grazed hers, sending tiny sparks of electricity racing through her body. She couldn’t move even as his touch ignited her. She found herself wanting to brush against him, wanting to feel more, even as she stood frozen to the spot.
“My own library is my sanctuary,” he continued.
Lily’s heart hammered at this revelation even as her brain fought to maintain some control of herself. Of course he had a library. He was a billionaire. He probably had a harem and a zoo as well.
“I have a bookshelf,” she told him. That was the difference between a man like him and a person like her.
“One has to start somewhere.” His lips quirked into a grin that puzzled her. It wasn’t smug but it was knowing, as if he’d told a joke he knew she wouldn’t understand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
She stuck out a hand, feeling like it was both the proper thing to do and quite silly at the same time. Then, her name slipped out. “Lily. My name is Lily.”
“I know, Miss Reid.” His smile was like gasoline thrown onto simmering embers. It swept through her and burned hottest at her core.
“You know who I am?” she stammered.
“Of course,” he said simply before taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. “I always notice a reader.”
Tuesday: The Initiation
The couple stopped in front of the dark landing and knocked, paying no attention to the words stenciled on the front. Lily felt a stab of envy as the woman’s hand slipped comfortably into the man’s. They would see her if they turned. She wasn’t trying to hide but rather give them a bit of privacy, but they had eyes only for each other.
Lily’s invitation had told her to come alone, but seeing another couple enter the private collection made her pause. How had she talked herself into this?
Still, she found herself stepping in behind them. The interior of the library wasn’t what Lily expected. For some silly reason, she’d expected stacks of books. Instead plush sofas that looked purple in the dimly lit lounge rested on oriental rugs that probably would have cost several months of her flat rent. The couple she’d entered behind removed their coats and Lily realized she was overdressed. Her little black sheath seemed sexy when she put it on, but she was suddenly thankful that she’d worn the only lingerie she owned underneath it. Her dress was more clothing than the woman wore under her coat. The man remained mostly dressed. Like before, they both wore masks. Lily lingered for a moment, taking in the full scene, hoping no one noticed her yet. Hanging near the door, she spotted a collection of masks and she plucked one off a hook, tying it on quickly.
“Mademoiselle, may I take your coat?” another butler clad in a simple, old-fashioned tuxedo asked. He was the only one not wearing a mask in the room.
The couple had already sauntered off, so Lily shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. His face stayed placid but she noted the surprised look in his eyes. She was overdressed. For a moment, Lily considered turning to leave. She could say it was a mistake. That she was simply in the wrong place, but the lace mask that concealed her face gave her confidence. No one would know her, except whomever had sent the letter—and Lily wanted to discover who that was. As long as she explored and stayed in the shadows, she would be fine.
“I came from a meeting,” Lily said apologetically. “Can I send this with you as well?” She gestured down to her dress.
“Of course,” he replied. He kept his eyes level with her face while she tugged at the zipper in the back. Her dress fell to a puddle at her feet and she stepped out of it. She hadn’t been this exposed to anyone in years, but she managed to hand it to him with a bit of graceful dignity.
The butler excused himself and Lily was left to wander. She tried to forget she was in nothing more than her black satin lingerie as she headed down the hallway.
The lounge emptied into a long corridor that was lined with a variety of paintings. They all featured women in various states of undress. The portrait of a prim girl in seventeenth-century clothing wasn’t like the ones featured in museums. Her pale breasts were exposed, revealing pert nipples, and her skirt was hiked to display her stockings. The rest of the paintings were of different times, but they all displayed the same erotic sensibility. Lily had read about clubs like this in books, but she hadn’t expected one actually existed today—and in London. The city had seemed stuffy to her, as though the whole of the population was bound by a restrictive corset, but Lily had inadvertently stumbled on its secret.
There were no doors but there were plenty of exits, and as she drew close to the first, she heard a clamor of noise. Lily slipped in through the doorway. It was a bit darker in this room, the only light cast by lit sconces that peppered the walls. Men in dark clothing were gathered in a tight group. Some wore plain waistcoats and others wore sweeping robes. They all wore masks. Lily wondered what they were looking at. Whatever it was held them in rapt attention. She maneuvered to the side of the room, managing to stay hidden in the darker recesses. Her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of the spectacle on display.
Two women were draped over a table. Their pale skin contrasted against the richly brocaded linen of its tablecloth. They were nude save for some stockings, but even those were in various states of coming off. The first girl was a fair blonde and Lily knew it was her natural color from the pink blossom she was displaying to the onlookers. The blonde propped herself onto her hands and knees. Her mask was ruby red and a thick plume of feathers sprouted from it. She bent down and very carefully bit the other girl’s remaining stocking, pulling it slowly down. The girl lay in wait, her dark hair pooling around her head. She let out a soft moan.
“Who would enjoy the pleasure of a private show?” the blonde asked the men.
“I’d like more than a show,” one gruffly replied.
“But I’d pay to see it,” his friend said.
Their voices remained formal. There was no hint of machoism, no gentle ribbing, no awkward laughter.
A gentleman’s club, Lily thought. It was like her books. She hadn’t believed that such places existed. Until now.
No money passed between the group. Whatever system of recompense was at work, it didn’t require it.
The first man parted his robe and Lily saw he was naked underneath. He wasn’t the type of man who needed to pay for sex. He could easily have gotten a woman into bed from what she could observe of his well-etched abdomen and the cock that was barely rising to prominence between his legs. No one spoke, but the blonde arched toward him. He could easily enter her, but he didn’t. Instead his fingers trailed along her thighs into the crease of her buttocks. He spread her wide and there was a murmur of approval from the group. As he slipped a finger into her, she responded with a moan.
The other woman pushed up and grabbed her face, bringing their lips together. The kiss was passionate and full, not for the show. It was desire. The man’s finger stroked in and out of her cleft and he brought his thumb up to work on the sensitive spot above. The blonde responded eagerly, pushing against his
fingers, little sighs of pleasure escaping through the kiss. He pushed her down so that the women were against one another, their breasts pressed together, and he watched as their hands explored. Just as the blonde began to quiver with impending fulfillment, he removed his fingers and thrust into her. The movement broke the embrace of the women and the blonde threw her head back for just a moment before returning to her other lover. He was swift and commanding, driving himself against her without restraint. Lily could hear the rough slap of his hips as they hit against the woman’s ass.
Lily felt her curiosity shift into something more wicked. A steady pulse was rising between her legs, begging to be released, but she only watched.
The man came with a groan as the woman in the red mask shook with her erupting pleasure.
“Have you declared your intent?” A deep voice startled her.
Lily whirled on him. He was dressed in black, from a thick wool coat to a pair of leather gloves that hid his long fingers. His mask covered his whole face and tied behind to cover his hair. He loomed over her like a dark spirit. Had he been there the whole time? From the way he blended with the shadows, she might have missed him when she entered.
“I’m observing,” she said, a note of hesitation coloring her words.
“This is a private room,” he told her, gesturing that she should follow him back into the corridor.
Lily was glad the club was so dimly lit that he couldn’t possibly see the heat flooding her cheeks.
“I didn’t know,” she explained. “I’m new here.”
“And how did you gain entrance?” he asked.
Any minute now, she’d be kicked to the cold sidewalk for breaking the rules. If she was lucky, she might get her coat and dress back first. If not, she’d have to come up with something pretty good to explain her predicament to Caroline. She cursed her friendless foreigner status even as her mind started to construct elaborate stories to cover up for her strange circumstances.
“I received an invitation.” She lifted her chin, hoping she looked braver than she felt.
The stranger moved closer to her, his arm brushing her bare shoulder. “And what do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. This is all new to me.”
“Then you should see more.” He crooked his arm and offered it to her. She hadn’t expected this turn in events, but she was grateful that she wouldn’t be wandering the streets of London in her underwear.
“These are private rooms,” he explained as he led her past the open doors of the hallway. As they passed each, she peeked inside, her curiosity greeted by a number of strange and carnal sights. Bodies tied and bound, tortured with exquisite pleasure. Couples wrapped around one another while others watched.
“I’m Master Q,” he told her.
“I don’t have a name here,” she said. This didn’t seem like the kind of place where a girl gave out so much as her surname.
“A woman without a name,” Master Q mused. “And an American. What should I call you?”
He stopped in front of an open doorway but he didn’t enter. Lily stepped forward to get a better look. Inside, a couple clung to one another, their bodies colliding roughly. Both were nude, wearing only the masks that protected their identity from the world of the club and from each other. The woman’s arms wrapped around the man’s neck as she balanced on his lap. Everywhere was flesh, hungry and alive, but their lips never touched.
“Do they know each other?” Lily whispered.
“What do you think?” Q asked, laughter in his voice.
“Good point,” she said.
They continued on their journey down the hall until it emptied into a grand room full of people. Most were clothed although Lily spotted a fair bit of flesh displayed on couches and chairs. A woman wearing only a thin gold chain around her trim waist approached them with a tray. Lily took a cup timidly, staring at the glassy green liquid in the tumbler.
“Absinthe,” Q told her. “It will free you.”
“Do I need to be freed?” she asked.
“I don’t see you participating,” he noted. “It’s your first time. I’m not making a judgment, just an observation.”
“How did a nice kid from the Protestant States of America wind up somewhere like this?” she mused as she downed the drink, which she was surprised to discover tasted like licorice.
“Devil’s hands.”
She couldn’t see it, but she imagined his eyebrows wiggling wickedly beneath his full mask. She turned to ask him more questions, wanting to understand where she was—and whether she would be invited back—but her attention was caught by the spectacle behind her. A woman swung suspended by a large rocking seat. She was laughing and flirting with the crowd of men and women below.
That’s what freedom looks like, Lily thought.
The woman kicked her feet as she answered the lusty exclamations of a man waiting below her. Then she leaned forward, her arms balancing her and her breasts swinging full overhead. A murmur of approval moved through the crowd.
“What is she doing?” Lily asked Black.
“Natasha is our resident songbird. She likes to perch above everyone else.”
“Does she…sell herself?” Lily felt vulgar even asking, but part of her couldn’t help but think of what it would be like to swing overhead, a display of femininity and sexuality, completely in control of an entire room’s attention.
“Sexuality is free here. Do you desire her?” Q asked. His voice was husky, and Lily wondered if he was imagining the two making love. The thought sent blood swelling to her already pulsing sex.
“Perhaps,” she answered. Lily still wasn’t sure what to make of him. There was something dangerous about a man in a mask, but it made her feel alive. “I want to know how it works.”
“It’s not what you think,” Q explained. “We all buy in, even the women. You were invited, which means someone sponsored you.”
“And how does that benefit anyone?” Lily asked.
“It keeps it legal. None of us our prostituting ourselves. Think of it as very liberal hotel. The club stays open. We have the best liquor, the finest art, decadent furnishings. And the patrons live out their fantasies.”
Lily had to admit she was ready to check in and stay for a night or two.
“Do you have any fantasies, girl without a name?”
“Yes.” Lily swallowed hard. Had she just admitted that out loud? His closeness was making her head fuzzy, or perhaps it was the absinthe, or the unforgiving drum of her engorged clitoris.
“Would you like to see more?” he asked.
For a moment, Lily was disappointed but it wasn’t until the bittersweet feeling flitted through her that she realized what she wanted. She wanted this man to take her. Now. She wanted him to fuck her hard so that her body could reach the crescendo it so desperately desired.
“Yes,” she said, hoping her increasing frenzy didn’t show through.
“Come with me.” Q led her through the crowded room into a small alcove. Another man appeared and the two shook hands.
“Master Q, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Tristan, we have a new acquaintance.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Tristan took Lily’s hand and brought it to his lips. She felt a rush of desire. He was wiry, less sculpted than the other men Lily had seen so far at the club, but not lacking in definition. And he wasn’t hiding behind clothes like Master Q was. His jacket hung open over a bare chest, and his pants, while still carefully zipped up, were undone at the fly.
“Show our new friend what she has to look forward to when she becomes a full member.”
Tristan laughed at the double entendre, but as he did so, his hand lowered to unzip his pants.
“I’m not sure I want to—” Lily started.
“It’s only a show,” Q assured her. “You can’t buy in without knowing what the benefits are.”
Lily nodded. The lump in her throat grew bigger as Tristan pulled his cock out.
It was already erect and she marveled at his length. He might not be as physically formidable as the other men at the club but he didn’t lack anything where it counted. Tristan stroked his length. He teased it with his hand and his dark eyes stayed on Lily the whole time.
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Tristan said. It was an invitation, but Q held up a hand.
Lily watched as Tristan worked his cock with long, deep strokes. Q pulled her down into the chair and she felt his hands skim her back, resting on her thigh. She wanted his hand to go farther. With each stroke, Lily felt the dilation of her clit. It throbbed with need, but she didn’t reach out even as Tristan’s masturbation picked up speed. He moaned slightly and he came with a violent tremor and a thick burst of cum in front of her eyes.
“When you come back fully fledged, I want you,” Tristan said. He pulled his trousers back up covering his shrinking cock, and took his leave.
“What do you think? Would you like that?” Q asked. He leaned into her and Lily could feel the heat of his breath through his mask. She wanted his lips on her. She wanted to feel his teeth on her ear, his hand on her sex. She could hardly breathe for want. But it wasn’t Tristan she felt drawn to, but rather the man hiding with her now.
“I want you,” she whispered.
“Show me,” he urged. His hand found hers and he pulled it down to her thighs. It found its own way quickly. Q pushed her legs wide as Lily fumbled with her panties. Pulling them back, she revealed herself to him, her fingers working deep into the soft folds, the tips of them moving desperately, furiously in a circle.
“Slow down,” Q commanded. “Show me.”
She slowed, making full, deep circles against the engorged bundle. She was slippery and ready, but she felt the desire to make a show for him. She wanted to prove she could do it, as the others had done. She dipped her a finger into her cleft and gasped as her knuckle plunged inside herself for him. She never did this while masturbating, but she relished the way Q’s eyes followed her hands as they slipped in and out of her.