Roman hugged and European-kissed the model who came up to greet him on her way toward one of the private rooms in the back. She was no doubt going to meet her husband who was also a member. It was for these types of couples that he was particularly proud of his club. He believed it held some marriages together being allowed to play together in this environment every once in a while.
“Why?”
After noticing Marco’s narrowed eyes at Ben, he watched the probationary member more closely. One of the partners in that threesome had been one of Roman’s long-timers, Jane, who still lay with the half-hooded look of someone who just got laid. Without so much as a by your leave, he slapped Janie on the ass before walking off. Rude asshole.
“See Janie?” She was still laying there, the half-hooded look of someone who just got laid.
“What about her?”
“She was…reluctant…to go with him.”
Roman crossed his arms, faced Marco head-on, with his jaw clenched so tight he risked cracking a tooth. “What the hell do you mean by reluctant?” One of their biggest rules was that the sex had to be consensual, and Marco should have never let her go over there if she’d been reluctant.
Marco stepped back, raising his hand. He had a solid hundred pounds and three inches on Roman, but Roman was scary when pissed. “I didn’t say she didn’t want to go, I just said she was reluctant at first, like she was trying to figure out if she liked him. She was the one who walked him to the bed and tackled him with a kiss, so I didn’t step in. She’s pretty picky, but I’m going to pull her and talk to her as soon as she gets up.”
“See that you do,” he said through gritted teeth. “And make sure that shit doesn’t happen again. I don’t give a fuck if she dry humps his leg; if she looks reluctant, step up and see what the hell is going on.”
“Understood.” Marco nodded. Roman dismissed him. He watched as Marco crossed to Janie and led her to his office. Roman had five rules, and Marco was close to allowing Ben to break one of them. Rule number one: Be safe. Rule number two: If it’s not consensual, it’s not happening. Rule number three: What happens here, stays here. Rule number four: The only thing you pay for is the membership. Rule number five: No drugs.
Roman continued to watch the room while Marco was gone. He wanted his customers to understand he was present, and nothing communicated that more than being on the floor. He waved Ben over, wanting to get a feel for the new guy. No one got into the club without a referral, and he’d been vouched for by one of their older members who’d never steered Roman wrong before.
“Hey, Roman.” Ben bopped around like an eager puppy. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed after his last encounter, so his junk was swinging back and forth. Roman considered punching it just to make him stop moving. “I’m loving this place! All the free pussy I want.”
Roman’s face remained impassive as he listened to the douchebag ramble on about getting laid. Regardless of their reputation, the club wasn’t a massive orgy, but this guy acted like everyone was there to service his ass. “We don’t look at it as ‘free pussy’,” Roman corrected him. “It’s an understanding between adults for shared sexual gratification.”
“Call it whatever you want.” Ben grinned, patting the abs that resembled a keg as opposed to a six-pack. “But I call it free pussy.”
And that’s why I call it a trial period. Roman tamped down the anger at the man treating his club like a fucking playground, secure in the knowledge he would not be obtaining a membership. If he could get away with it, he’d kick him out right then, but unless the man did something specifically against the rules, he was stuck with him for the rest of his probationary period. After that, he’d be releasing him with pleasure.
He wrapped up his conversation with Ben, who then lumbered his naked ass over to the next woman offering him a chance. He didn’t want to watch anymore and went back to his office, craving the breather. Roman collapsed in his chair, unusually tired for a Wednesday night. He felt the ache in his bones, too many hours at the club catching up to him. He needed a vacation, hadn’t had one of those in over a year, but at this point he’d settle for a day off. Staring at the screens, he pretended to pay attention to his club, but his mind was stuck on the brown-haired beauty who’d invaded his office earlier, the faint smell of flowers still in the air.
***
Roman leaned back and closed his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them a couple hours later. He’d plowed through his last bit of paperwork, about to call it a night, when he heard the knock at the door.
“Come in,” he called, hoping it wasn’t Gina again, thankful when he saw it was Marco. The man nodded his greeting, taking off his suit jacket on his way to Roman’s desk. Out in the club, it was all business, but in here it was two friends shooting the shit.
“What’s up?” Roman straightened out his desk after Marco got comfortable.
“I talked to Janie…” Marco started, shaking his head. He sighed heavily but didn’t finish. It was annoying; Roman wanted all the information and Marco always tried to drag it out to see how long Roman could last.
“And?”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “You want to know?”
“You want to get paid?”
“Good one. So, I spoke with both of them, and we need to suspend their membership. Apparently, he tried to sweet-talk her, she told him no, and then he offered her $100, so she agreed. That’s what I saw; her eagerness was because she wanted to get paid.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” This was the last issue Roman felt like dealing with that night. “Where are they?” Roman clenched his fist, the anger coursing through him at the potential implications for his club. He’d be punished even if he didn’t know it occurred. Payment for sexual favors of any kind was illegal on the very short list of things that would get you kicked out.
“They’re outside your office. I just wanted to let you know before I brought them in.” Marco stood and let Janie in. She’d been crying, probably because she knew she was about to get kicked out. She spent more time in the club than Roman, and embodied the stereotype of a spoiled heiress who loved the chase and a threesome. But she was getting cut off. Marco stood off to the side while she sat in front of Roman, shoulders hunched, hiccupping every once in a while.
“Janie, what were you thinking?” he asked. “First, that’s illegal. Second, you shouldn’t be selling your body at all to anyone. Third, you didn’t even want to have sex with him until he offered to pay you. And fourth, we both know you don’t need the money.” He spoke to her as he would a wounded animal because she looked ready to break.
“I…know…” she cried. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”
“You know the rules,” he told her.
“Can I have another chance?” Her blonde hair hung in limp strands, black streaks of mascara running down her face. He passed her the box of tissues so she could fix her face.
“No, ma’am.”
He watched her fold into herself and cry uncontrollably. Roman had a “sorry, not sorry” moment, because she’d broken the rules, and he wasn’t going to risk his club so she could get her rocks off for a hundred bucks. She pissed more than that away in restaurants on one bottle of wine, and she wanted to ruin her membership? Not his problem. “Janie, you’re going to have to clear out your property and leave tonight. Jason will walk you out.”
“Seriously?” she wailed.
“Seriously,” he repeated, feeling like a tween talking to her friend. “You know the rules, so you have to go tonight. Marco? Take her and bring in Ben.” Marco stepped forward, walking the sobbing woman into the hallway and escorting Ben back in. He looked far more aggravated than the cocky man from a few hours ago. He jerked his arm from Marco’s grip before stopping in front of Roman’s desk, arms crossed belligerently.