“Likewise, Astrid. Please, I’d like to speak with you in my office where I can actually hear more about you,” he says, leaning down close to my ear.
I nod, figuring he wants to discuss what I’m willing and not willing to do as far as dancing in his club. I want to make it clear that I won’t be doing more than the first level of dancing, and there won’t be a future of me stripping or escorting, so I follow him as he makes his way out of this club. I glance back, expecting to see Crystal following, but she’s still by the dance floor, and she waves, wiggling just her fingers at me, and then disappears into the crowd.
I catch up to Randy at the foot of the right staircase, and he nods at the guard there. I hold the banister as we climb the stairs, and at the top, he turns left. He doesn’t say anything as we make our way down the hallway, and the silence is growing awkward for me by the time we stop in front of a door at the end.
“Please,” he says, pushing the door open with his left hand and gesturing with his right for me to enter before him. I step inside, moving farther into the room as he comes up directly behind me, and I jump as he closes the door, turning a key in the lock before pulling it out and putting it in his pocket. My senses immediately go on alert, fear taking over my system, being locked inside a place I’ve never been with a complete stranger. I’m facing the right side of the room, where a huge desk is set up with two chairs on this side of it and a throne-like seat on the other. And it’s not until I look into the giant mirror on the wall behind it that I see the other side of the room contains an enormous bed, and in the center of it, is a woman.
I swallow thickly as I turn around to look directly at her, not believing the image I saw in the refection, but sure enough, there’s a completely naked Kristin, one of the girls who didn’t show up in the dressing room today for me to do her makeup. Black tears have fallen down her face, soaking into the white cloth she has wrapped around her head, gagging her. Her eyes plead for help, and my stomach drops even further when I see her hands are tied behind her back.
“Oh, don’t mind her. We’re just playing a little game. You know what we do on the second floor, correct? Crystal told me she informed you of the three levels of pleasure one can partake in my establishment,” Randy prompts, and my brow furrows.
“Um…” I clear my throat, my voice shaky. “Y-Yes.”
“Very good. I was just in the middle of training Kristin—you’ve met Kristin, right?—for when her next John wants the pleasure of the submissive type, when Crystal came to get me. You see, Kristin’s more… the topping type. You know, being the more dominant one while fucking. But she needs to learn to… let’s say take a little, as opposed to giving,” he tells me, and I swallow, not getting the vibe from her eyes that are begging me for help that she was at all accepting of this lesson he’s speaking of.
I decide to play dumb, hoping that if I act like nothing’s amiss, then I’ll find a way out of here and quickly. Everything inside me is screaming to run, to go get help, but how, when he has the key in his pocket?
I glance around the room, turning in a slow circle as I take in every detail that might lead to another exit as I say, “This room is beautiful. The whole estate is, actually. Was it like this when you bought it, or did you have someone design it for you?”
He eyes me up and down when I face him, and he makes a little huff of amusement out his nose as his lips curl upward once more. His expression seems to be an ever-present cockiness that would make me despise him instantly if I wasn’t so terrified in this moment.
“It was pretty much the same as you see, only completely empty. I didn’t need to add much besides furniture, the bars, stages, and the sound and surveillance systems,” he replies, making his way around the desk and lowering himself into his leather chair. “Please, have a seat. Astrid, is it?” He gestures toward the chairs between us, and I try to loosen my limbs as I walk over to one stiffly and sit.
“Yes, sir. I’ve been here for a week now and absolutely love my job as your new makeup artist for the girls,” I reply, trying to be as polite as possible. I can see an undercurrent of evil in his eyes that I don’t want to set off. They’re almost… soulless. I hadn’t figured the owner of a place like this would be a saint or anything, but I didn’t expect someone like this man. Neil, Seth, Corbin, and Brian own their own sex club, a BDSM one at that, and they’re freaking mercenaries—paid vigilantes, Neil confided, lying in bed one night when I asked him to tell me more about him and his team—but they have a code. A life for a life. They didn’t kill anyone who hadn’t killed an innocent person. They defended and avenged the helpless, in my mind something noble and virtuous.