Page 82 of Always Alchemy

‘The members of Alchemy are the kind of people everyone else wants to date, or fuck, or at the very least, have access to.That’sthe crux of it. Our patrons get them on tap, in an environment that’s discreet and luxurious and in the knowledge that everyone is thoroughly checked out and health-screened and NDA’d up to the hilt before they even step foot in the place.

‘And then you’ve got the add-ons. The toys. The equipment. The entertainment. And our hosts, who are there to ensure our members have a really great time.’

Annabel’s eyes widen gleefully. ‘Wait—you have escorts working for you?’

‘We have salaried members of staff,’ I correct her, ‘who are paid to serve drinks and hang out and have fun. It’s up to them how far they take things.’Or if our members want to show their appreciation privately with a hefty tip.

‘Well, that’s perfect.’ She throws her hands in the air. ‘You can just tell Dad we’ve asked for jobs as hosts, and then once you’ve peeled him off the ceiling, you can just downgrade it to regular old members and he won’t bat an eyelash.’

I shake my head at her. ‘You really should be in business school.’

She grins.

Amie leans forward, and the question out of her mouth surprises me. ‘What kind of checks do you do on them? Like, psych screens? What if someone seems cool on all your metrics but once they get you in a room they’re a total psycho?’

‘Someone seemsveryinvested,’ Annabel muses, tossing her long dark hair over one shoulder. I give her my best stern schoolmarm look.

‘I just think it’s an interesting issue,’ Amie says, nonplussed. She too tosses her hair, and I wonder if she has any idea she’s mirroring her twin. She does it a lot. ‘Like, you say your typical client is in finance. It doesn’t take a genius to work out there are a lot of total sociopaths and narcissists in the City. So what if some guy is suave and charming and checks out perfectly, but then they get some woman in a room and they show their really nasty side?’

She sits back in her seat and picks up her sparkling water. No alcohol for Amie with an afternoon of lectures ahead. Annabel, who, is on vodka tonic, gapes at her.

‘Jesus! Yeah, what happens then?’

‘Obviously, there’s always a risk,’ I tell Amie. Idon’ttell her that her words remind me of when I interviewed her father, for some reason, though it was kind of the other way around with him. I thought he was dodgy as fuck from the moment I saw him.

I wouldn’t say I waswrongon that front, per se, but the Big Bad Wolff definitely won me over. I keep my smile to myself as I continue. ‘There are people who are really fucked up and they do a really good job of hiding it until they’ve chopped up your body and chucked it in the river. Right? But we get referrals wherever possible. We get references where possible, too. We check out people’s social media, we run background checks, as I said, and we interview everyone, too, as much to get a read on them as to gauge their sexual preferences.

‘And I’ll still stake my entire reputation on it being safer to hook up with a stranger at Alchemy than on an app or in a bar. Hands down. We have a two drink maximum to make sure there’s no drunken fraternising, which removes a lot of risk. And besides, people tend to behave when they know there’s a zero tolerance policy. One accusation and they’re out on their ear.

‘So yeah, you might get someone who signs up so they can commit a sex crime one single time, but that’s a lot of effort when they could do the same far more easily somewhere else. People love the club. They value it, and they know that the privilege of being a member comes with extremely weighty expectations.’ I sit back and thank our server as he lays a platter of dover sole in front of me.

‘All I heard,’ Annabel remarks airily, picking up her fork, ‘is that Alchemy is basically the safest place to have sex in the whole of London. So why the fuck Dad would let us loose on the streets of Soho and not let us sign up for a very well-run sex club is entirely beyond me.’

29

ANTON'S WORST NIGHTMARE

ANTON

‘Isaw the twins today,’ my wife says as I kiss her bare shoulder. I’ve come home from a dinner to find her in our ensuite bathroom, removing her makeup. Her hair is pulled back in a clip, and I am very interested in what appears to be a new ivory satin nightgown with strategically placed lace.

‘Did you?’ I stand behind her, toying with the tiny satin strap as I kiss my way along her shoulder to her neck. ‘How come?’

She’s so beautiful. Coming home to her, even after all these years, is something else. The whole way home, I was tapping my foot in the back of the car as we edged forward in London traffic. Yeah, I have plans for her tonight. Plenty of plans. But that’s not the reason I was desperate to get home.

Things are better where she is.

Peace is where she is.

It’s as simple and as profound as that.

I slide an arm around her waist, feeling the softness of her stomach through the sensuous silk of the nightgown.

‘They invited me to lunch at the Arts Club. Can you believe it?’

I laugh. ‘No. They presumably made you pay?’

‘Obviously.’

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