Page 16 of Tempting Kat
Fine. Casual it is. But he better not be some creepy old fucker with weird fetishes.
Although for that kind of money, I’ll fucking put on cat ears and crawl around the floor.
Wait, that sounds kind of fucking hot. Maybe he will want that.
Chapter 5
Katarina
I've done dumber shit for less money, but walking into the Lovelace Hotel wearing cutoffs and a faded Nirvana tee feels like I'm about to be escorted out by security. The lobby is full of marble and crystal, dripping with old money and judgment. The woman at the check-in desk looks at me like I just tracked dog shit across her pristine floor.
Okay, well fuck you, Babs, or whatever the fucking bougie ass name you possibly have.
I spot Vivian immediately—impossible to miss in her skin-tight black dress and killer heels that probably cost more than my college education. Her dark hair is pulled back in a severe bun that somehow makes her cheekbones look even sharper. She's scrolling through her phone with perfectly manicured nails, radiating “don't approach me unless you're worth my time” energy.
I’d fuck her in a minute, as I’m sure literally anyone would. She’s not someone who you say no to.
I take a deep breath and walk over, suddenly aware of how my sandals slap against the marble. Vivian looks up, those ice-blue eyes scanning me from head to toe like she's calculating my worth down to the penny.
Then she smirks. “Perfect. He will literally lose his shit.”
“That's good?” I shift my weight, resisting the urge to smooth my hair or adjust my shirt.
“Very good.” She slips her phone into a tiny purse that couldn't possibly hold anything else. “Follow me.”
I trail after her, trying to match her long stride as we cross the lobby. She doesn't lead us to the main elevators but to a discreet hallway off to the side where a single elevator door waits, unmarked except for a small black panel beside it.
Vivian raises her wrist, and I notice the delicate silver bracelet she's wearing. She waves it in front of the panel, and the elevator doors slide open silently.
“Fancy,” I mutter as we step inside. “What is this, some billionaire's private elevator?”
“Something like that.” The doors close, and we begin descending. “There's a club in the hotel. Very exclusive, fully vetted, completely secure. Strict requirements for entry.”
“A sex club?” My eyebrows shoot up. “I thought you said no sex.”
“It's not just about sex.” Vivian rolls her eyes like I'm a child who needs everything explained. “It's about fantasy, desire, power exchange. Some members never have sex at all—they come to watch, to be seen, to experience.”
“Okay...” I draw out the word, my mind racing. “And my client? The one dropping six figures to keep me all to himself?”
“He wants to look. Only look.” Vivian's perfectly painted lips curve into another knowing smirk. “There's no sex, but he does have an interesting kink.”
“Oh, here we go.” I can't help the sarcasm that creeps into my voice. “Let me guess—he wants me to bark like a dog or something?”
Vivian laughs, the sound somehow both musical and condescending. “No, nothing like that. Though I do have clients who would pay handsomely for such services.”
“Then what?”
“He enjoys a gloryhole.”
I nearly choke on air. “A gloryhole? Like, an actual fucking gloryhole?”
“Precisely.” Vivian looks pleased at my reaction. “Not what you were expecting, I take it?”
“I mean...” My brain scrambles to process this. “I've watched that kind of porn, not gonna lie. But there's usually, you know, a dick involved. And sucking. Lots of sucking.”
“Mm.” Vivian nods, completely unfazed. “In this case, you'll be fully clothed, simply lounging in the hole, no dick peephole in this room. He'll just be staring at you.”
“That's it? Just…looking at me?”
