A Baby for the Babysitter
“Yeah, I mean we should count ourselves lucky because we’re surviving. But that’s the thing. I don’t want to just survive. I want to be able to live,” I say. “Is that too much to ask? I recently stopped going to Starbucks because I can’t afford their drinks anymore.”
Pet nods knowingly. “I know. I never went there because specialty coffee has always cost a fortune. But yeah, it’d be nice to be able to afford Frappucinos on a regular basis, right? And not just once in a while?”
I nod. “Yeah, it would be nice,” I say in a soft voice. “It would be a total dream.”
But then, Pet looks up, changing the subject.
“Ooh did you hear that the girl from the spa got pregnant?” Pet whispers, her voice low. “The pretty redhead who always has perfect nails?”
“No way!” I exclaim, surprised by this news. “Who’s the dad?”
Pet shakes her head. “No one knows, but I mean, it’s got to be one of the clients, right?”
“Wait a minute. I thought the spa girls weren’t supposed to get down with clients,” I tell her, frowning.
Pet just shrugs.
“Yeah, but you know how this place works. One, the clients always get what they want. And two, who knows what she was doing in the spa? I mean, those things can be very Jeffrey Epstein-ish.”
I snort.
“OMG, don’t start. Sanctum is nothing like Jeffrey Epstein. We’re in our twenties, Petunia. We’re adults.”
Pet waves her hands.
“No, I don’t mean that in the gross, nasty sort of way. I just mean … well, you know how those massages can turn out sometimes.”
I nod.
“Yeah, and I think happy endings are how most of the guys like it, to be honest. I mean, the whole point of this place is to help them destress while engaging in total hedonism. It’s an escape from real life, and we help them do that.”
Pet nods. “Yeah, I guess it was just unexpected, and no one knows what’s going to happen next.”
“She’ll figure it out,” I say helpfully. “I’m sure they’ll work something out together. Plus, a lot of the guys here want to be dads, and there are also quite a few marriages too. Look at Bridget and Todd. She used to be a hostess too, but now she’s married to a billionaire.”
Pet sighs.
“I just hope that happens to me one day.”
I shoot her a smile.
“It will, I promise. We just have to keep living our lives in the meantime. Come on girl, chin up. We need to look happy for our jobs because it’s almost go-time!”
With that, we finish adjusting our outfits and grab a glass of the complimentary champagne that’s on a tray by the door.
“To another wild night at our top-secret job,” I tell her and clink my glass against hers.
“You make it sound like we’re super-heroes or something,” Pet laughs before she takes a long, slow sip from her glass. “Ones who wear skimpy lingerie,” she adds with a rueful expression. It’s true because both my friend and I are dressed in almost nothing. Our bra tops aren’t much more than postage stamps, and we’ve got brightly-colored g-strings on with the thong buried dirtily in our backsides. But for this particular belly-dancing event, we’re also wearing tiny sarongs wrapped around our waists. The fringed material has little bells dangling off the edges, and a sweet, tinkling music chimes at every movement.
“We kind of are like super-heroes, albeit in lingerie instead of capes,” I decide, winking at Pet over the rim of my glass. “Because we have these secret identities that no one can know about. Imagine if my employer found out that I work here. Or your employer. OMG, I’d be fired so fast.”
Pet nods.
“It’s a secret life, for sure. But hey, we hang out with billionaires for fun and make lots of money doing it,” she agrees. “So it’s worth it right?”
With that, the champagne is done and we put our flutes down before taking a deep breath. It’s time to head to the lounge for some good times, and to be honest, I’m a little nervous because I’ve only been to a belly-dancing event once before, and it can be eye-opening.
But you like the adrenaline, the voice in my head reminds me. You live for it, so just ride the wave, Marcy.
With that, I flash one last smile at my buddy as we traipse through the hallways of Sanctum. Then, the large double-doors to the lounge open, and inside, pure hedonism awaits.
2
Marcy
* * *
The lounge is dark, but done up luxuriously with jewel-toned pendant-lamps and crimson carpeting which gives it a gothic yet elegant feel. A long oak bar graces one side of the room, and low-slung couches are scattered about. There’s a small dance floor off in the corner, but at the moment, no one’s dancing. Instead, handsome men in suits stand in small clumps, chatting with cocktails in their hands. Many of the women have yet to make an entrance, so Petunia and I are two of the first.