Maison Plaisir (Spirit World 1)

Chapter One

“Oh, you’re a human.”

The elegant, mature hostess who introduced herself as Madame Chabert eyed her with sheer curiosity. Isabelle Beaumont stiffened, feeling uncomfortable from being scrutinised like a rare artefact by some nosy curator. And what the hell did she mean by ‘you’re a human’? Of course she was a human. Who did Chabert think she was?

The hostess chortled when she saw the expression on her face. Her mellifluous voice echoed through the deserted lobby of Maison Plaisir. “No need to frown. I’m just surprised you’ve made it here at all.”

“I’ve been here before.” Belle shifted from foot to foot while anxiety knifed her gut-deep. “A few months ago. But everything looks different now.”

“Oh?” Madame Chabert’s expression changed as if she’d just realised something. “I forgot tonight is a waning moon. But I still can’t figure out how you were able to walk past the barrier.”

Waning moon? Barrier? Belle shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind, dearie.” Madame Chabert dismissed her lightly. “It’s fate that you’re here. Now, what can I do for you?” She motioned Belle to follow her into a private sitting area.

Belle sat on one of the fancy chairs, studying her surroundings. Mason Plaisir had gone through some drastic changes. The last time her best friend Lisa had dragged her here, this lobby looked like something that came from The Matrix movie set. Chromed walls plastered everywhere. LCD screens with flashing binary codes had graced every available space while deafening industrial music pounded from the speakers.

At that time, Belle had only stayed in the lobby for a few minutes before she’d decided to ditch Lisa. Belle had thought they were going to a nightclub or something, and she certainly hadn’t thought Maison Plaisir would turn out to be a sex club. Actually, it was more than just a sex club. Maison Plaisir was the best-kept secret S&M club in town, hosting the most beautiful and talented pro dommes and doms. At least, that was what Lisa had told her. Belle didn’t stick around long enough to find out if the rumours were true. The moment she found out what Maison Plaisir was all about Belle had chickened out and ran.

It felt like irony that months later she’d decided to come back here. She was desperate. She needed to rent a date and Maison Plaisir was the only risqué establishment she knew. She was green in the naughty department and couldn’t gather her courage to call a local escort agency. Especially when her situation demanded secrecy. If her date couldn’t keep his mouth shut, the charade she was about to perpetrate would doom her to a lifetime of hell.

Belle examined her surroundings with wonder. From the fancy wallpapers and painted ceilings, to the elaborate woodworks and trims that festooned all the walls, Maison Plaisir resembled a museum rather than an S&M club. Even the hostess herself looked like somebody from the cast of Pride and Prejudice. Madame Chabert was dressed in a black silk ruffle shirt adorned with a big ruby cameo on her neck. Her black hair was swept upward in a tight bun. Her tight bodice accentuated her impressive hourglass figure and her long skirt swept the floor when she walked. Elegant. Refined. Classy. Belle remembered Maison Plaisir’s last hostess wore a red latex catsuit and five-inch stilettos.

Madame Chabert settled herself in a wingback chair across from the coffee table. “What do you wish for pleasure tonight, Miss…?”

“Isabelle Beaumont. I need a date. Probably for several weeks. I heard you can help me with that kind of service.”

Chabert’s eyebrows shot up. “A semi-permanent engagement. That can certainly be arranged. What is your preference?”

“A man, of course.” Belle said it a little too quickly. A nervous laugh followed. “I don’t really care about the overall appearance. Actually, I need a fake boyfriend. Someone I can show to my family for a few weeks to get them off my back.”

“I see.” Madame Chabert didn’t look surprised that Belle wasn’t looking for a whipping master. “We can arrange that as well.”

“How much do you charge for that?”

“Now, now, dearie.” Chabert twirled a finger. “Since you’re interested in a long-term engagement, you should discuss the payment directly with your choice of associate. We’re only facilitating the matchmaking in this matter.”

“Oh?” Funny, the last time Lisa dragged her here Maison Plaisir had charged two hundred dollars just to enter the establishment. The domme or dom’s fee wasn’t included. Since when did they become a charity place? “Uhm, do you take plastics as well? I didn’t bring my cheque book.”

“The associate will let you know his payment preference as well. Now, shall I show you to the Common Hall? You may approach them there.”

“Okay.”

“Splendid. Please follow me.” Chabert rose from her seat and led her back to the grand lobby into the main entrance behind the reception desk. The hostess tapped her fingers on to the heavy double doors and murmured something. The doors opened by themselves where the sight of ultimate luxury greeted them.

Belle shadowed Madame Chabert, gawking around in awe. It was hard to believe this kind of place existed in the heart of the business district in downtown Chicago. Maison Plaisir occupied the entire fourth and fifth floor in the Folsom Building. Two floors above them housed exclusively financial firms. Three floors below housed a famous dot com company, law firms and a day spa. Belle wondered how Maison Plaisir could even pass the city zoning law in the first place. Whoever owned this place must have connections with very important people who ran the city.

The Common Hall, as Chabert had called it, was such an understatement. This room looked more like a ballroom. The place was two stories tall and surrounded by balconies with ornate railings. A grand staircase leading up to the second floor was perched in the heart of the hall, flanked with two angel statues carved in white marble stone. Everythin

g in this place reflected high taste. And so did the patrons of Maison Plaisir. The Common Hall was filled with people dressed in period costumes, just like Madame Chabert. Some of them were wearing Venetian masks. They lounged in the chairs and sofas that sprawled across the Common Hall, chatting in soft-sounding foreign accents. Belle was the only one dressed in normal clothes, and judging from the way everyone was dressed, she assumed tonight must be costume night or something similar.

Chabert took her hand and ushered her to one corner of the hall. She leant over and whispered, “As you can see, all guests in here are masked. Our associates are not. Feel free to approach them if you see someone you like.”

A sliver of panic crept through her. Approach? She’d never approached a man in her entire life, especially for this kind of nefarious purpose. She’d always been a shy, introverted person, mostly due to her mother and her older twin sisters, who always loved reminding her of how ugly she was. Growing up, Belle had been an awkward, fat, pimply kid with thick glasses and unsightly braces. Fifteen years later, she still hadn’t regained her self-confidence even after she’d shed many pounds, lost her braces, and now wore contacts. When she looked in the mirror, she thought she appeared normal like any twenty-six year-old career girl would. But somehow, the mental bullying she’d suffered under her demanding mother and her perfect twin sisters remained.

“W-wait, what if no one wants to be my date?”

“You’re jesting. A pretty thing like you?” Chabert patted Belle’s hand. “You’ll be fine, dearie. Our associates are trained to never leave a patron unattended. You should have nothing to worry about.”

“O-okay.”

“How about I fetch you a glass of bourbon to calm you down?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t drink.”

“A cup of tea, then?”

“That would be great. I really appreciate it.”

“No trouble at all. I’ll be back.”

Belle felt lost again when Chabert left her. She gulped hard and found her way to a nearby sofa. She sank into it and observed the surroundings. She started wondering if she was doing the right thing. Renting a date. Straying into an S/M club. Her mother would have a fit if she ever found out she went to this kind of place. Charlatan, her mother would say. Even though she was brought up with a respectable upbringing, her mother had always insisted Belle was different from her sisters. She was a bad seed in the family. Belle didn’t really understand why her mother hated her. Mother had always blamed all the misfortunes in the family on Belle. Because of Belle, her father had committed suicide. Because of Belle, the family fortune had been squandered away and they could barely afford their lavish lifestyle, making their family outcasts among their wealthy socialites.