Page 56 of Cocky Prince
I can’t imagine a better way to wake than next to Hayden every morning, and I don’t even feel a nudge of unease thinking that. Which is what I realized once I got home. I want this thing with her to work. It’s why I pulled away when I sensed her hesitation. Hayden is important to me, and I don’t want to screw this up.
“What was it you wanted to show me?” I ask.
“That’s all you have to say?” He holds out his arms. “Well? What do you think?”
“It’s fantastic. The members will love it.”
“You haven’t even seen the best part.” Paul walks into one of the bedrooms and I follow. This room has a king-sized bed covered in red silk with a deep purple bedspread folded at the bottom. Red satin ceiling-to-floor curtains drape behind the bed. Across from it are more curtains over an oval tile stage. It’s not a stripper pole, though I think the point is the same. Whoever’s on the bed gets a show.
Paul sees me staring. “That’s not all. Check this out.” He walks across the room to the bathroom.
It’s as luxurious as the one I glimpsed the other day, but there’s no hot tub. This one houses waterproof chairs and wall shower nozzles everywhere, and it piques my imagination. It’s only been a couple of hours since I left Hayden and my blood is still running hot. “Nice.”
“You haven’t seen the pièce de résistance.” Paul walks to one of two doors and opens it. And this is where my imagination screeches to a halt. “Well?” he says.
I look at him, his narrow chin that seems to take up half his face, the slick hair he combs over with a slight wave to hide his receding hairline. Paul’s navy suit is on the boring side for my taste, but it gives off a certain professional air. Seeing him standing next to a BDSM room doesn’t.
Or maybe it does. Maybe this is where the rich and powerful exercise their eccentric tastes without the public knowing. “I think you’re catering to a certain clientele.”
He chuckles. “Not even close. Our members asked for the dungeon. We provided them a taste of it with Bliss 1.0, but they wanted more. Not everyone is into it, but we’ve outfitted every Bliss suite with a dominatrix bedroom.”
I take in the space that’s the size of the luxurious bathroom. There’s some kind of suspension frame and a leather bench. And dozens of whips, chains, and other forms of bindings and flagellation equipment, not to mention a sleek black chest of drawers I’m certain supplies additional sex toys. “How do you keep it all clean?”
Paul laughs. “You see the fun room, and that’s the first thing you think of?”
I glance again. “I’m not a fan of STDs.”
He slaps my shoulder and squeezes. I slide my gaze to the hand, then narrow it back on his face. He drops his arm and clears his throat. “Guess we know what role you’d play.”
Yeah, I get what he’s implying. I’m still not amused.
He closes the door and walks out of the suite, talking as he goes. “Our members are paying a fortune. We provide them with their own equipment, and set up the playroom to their specifications before they arrive. There’s a menu of escorts and house mistresses to choose from.”
“House mistresses?”
Paul stops and scratches his chin. “You really haven’t been to a dominatrix?” I give him a speaking look. “Suit yourself. You don’t have to like it; our clients do.”
“You and William seem to be handling members,” I say. “As hospitality, I assume I’m expected to make sure the high-class sex dungeon runs smoothly. What else do I need to know?” My voice is tinged with irritation.
“Bliss isn’t a sex dungeon. That would be common.” Paul shakes his head. “I keep forgetting you recently came into the fold.” He walks to the bar, grabs a tumbler, and douses it with Gran Patrón. Must be his favorite, because he chose it the night of my promotion at Farley’s as well.
He offers me some and I shake my head. Paul taps his Blue sapphire ring against the glass—an especially annoying habit of his—and stares down at the liquid as though thinking. “Bliss is meant to encompass anything and everything our clients could want.” He takes a swig and studies me. “Come on. Best way to explain it is to show you the rest.”
He heads for a door off to the side and opens it. “Gourmet kitchen. There will be a professional chef and staff on duty twenty-four-seven.”
And from the looks of it, the kitchen is fully functional and ready to go.
Paul closes the door and strolls to what he’s referred to before as the concierge area, with opaque glass for privacy. “This is the brains of the operation. Each suite will feature a Bliss concierge, but in actuality, she’s the pleasure director. You’ll manage the Bliss concierges, but they will do the work of guest services. Each concierge will keep track of member preferences and supply them with whatever they need.”
“Supply them?” I say.
Paul punches in a code to the glass door and crosses to a computer, where he spends several seconds typing in passwords. A new screen pops up. “Meet the Bliss database.” He clicks through images of beautiful women. Dozens of them. “These are the escorts. As I mentioned a week ago, no need for you to look into more dancers. The few you hired are great, and we’ve taken care of the escorts. The original plan was to see if any of the dancers were willing to provide escort service, but we’ve come up with a better solution through Blackwell’s connections. We have more women than we need, and you’re going to drool when you see them in person.”
I highly doubt it, but I humor Paul. “What else?”
Paul pulls up a spreadsheet. “Here is the list of equipment we supply.”
Which consists of items I glimpsed in the sex dungeon, as well as condoms, lubricants, and other personal care. I point to another list. “What is that?”
