Page 2 of Stained
Danica never had a dream woman, so to speak. She was attracted to a large array of women. Weren’t most? Sometimes, she lusted after a busty brunette. Other times, she fancied a petite redhead who giggled more than she spoke. Her first real girlfriend drew a lot of scandalous ire at her boarding school before she went off to Princeton – she was, for lack of a better term, fat. At least according to the ridiculous standards of teenagers.
So, Danica never had a type. Until now.
Her. If the woman on the card existed, she would be it. Her love. Her glory. Her wife.
What was wrong with her? This was ignorant. Scoffing, Danica moved away from the coffee table, even though that portrait still called to her. “What else do you have, seer? So far, you’ve given me a lot of non-answers I could get from a Sunday horoscope.”
The woman drank more champagne before continuing. “You want more concrete details? I will try to oblige.” Gabriella concentrated on the cards, not once looking at Danica. “She is pure in body, but not of mind. The fates have decided that your intended is yours to possess alone. You will be her first in the bedroom, and the last.”
“So, she’s a virgin.”Woo-hoo. Danica didn’t get excited about that, unlike some of her brainless contemporaries.
“It’s a bit murky, but that is the image I get. She is wholly aware of the carnal delights of the world, but luck has not bestowed pleasurable touch upon her.”
“A thirty-year-old virgin. Lovely.”
“I caution you, Ms. Moreau.” Gabriella sat up with a start. “You will not acquire her easily. Even if you offer her everything up front, and even if she agrees from the start to be yours, outside influences will attempt to drive you apart.”
“Well.” Danica stood up. “It was a pleasure. Thank you for the free reading.”
“It wasmypleasure.” The fortune teller picked up the cards, the pretty one last. “Good luck in your pursuits of love.” She grinned. “You may need it.”
Danica excused herself from the party. The last thing she heard was her father’s roaring from his study. He only laughed like that when under the influence. All the more reason to stay away from him.
Sighing, Danica retreated into her girlhood chambers, guarded by one of the many bodyguards her family employed. Once she was in the quiet of her room, however, she was unable to settle down. Restlessness forced her to get one last shot of liquor for the night. As she poured, she saw a full-size image of that blond woman on the nearby couch, playing with the thin strands of her hair and glancing at Danica with come-hither bedroom eyes full of love.
She dropped the empty glass onto the carpet. Cursing her buttery grip, Danica bent down and picked it up. The image of the woman was gone, but both she and the fortune teller who conjured her had left their mark on Danica’s soul. For the next ten years, she would search for this woman. While she dallied with other lesser lovers who could never hope to hold onto her heart – and money – and while she eschewed her father’s proposals for an arranged marriage. This was the man who once told his daughter that she would “just know” when she found the one. He dared to interfere?
For ten years, Danica Moreau would live in a haze of endless money, growing influence and power, and the pursuit of the one thing she could never tell anyone else about: the perfect woman, who was destined to have her heart and body as if they weren’t the trifle things they truly were. All she asked for in turn was the same thing.
One day, she would have that woman fit to be queen of Danica’s growing empire. Whatever her class, background, or even marital status, she would behers, wholly and unconditionally. Once Danica found her? She would move the Heavens. The earth. She would go down to Hell and move that too if it meant having that damsel in her bed and coffers.
However, their meeting finally came to be one thing was for sure: Danica Moreau would not stop herself from becoming a changed woman. For better or worse.
Chapter 1
Alicia Colbert had worked her share of strange jobs. Nothing, however, compared to her first night working as a hostess at a sex club.
No, notthatkind of hostess. Her trainer, Susan, made it clear that Alicia was not there to do more than minimal flirting with guests while she showed them to VIP rooms and relegated the other spaces. Her job was simple: greet the guests after they emerged from the coat check, find out their seating preferences or if they’d rather be left alone, and see them to a secluded space if that’s what they required. When she wasn’t doing this, she was making sure everyone was comfortable and getting the service they expected. (No, notthatkind of service.) Were the drinks to their liking? Did they need a private room? Did guests know that reservations could be made in advance? Alicia would take care of it.
“Rule #1,” Susan reiterated before the club opened. “No. Fraternizing.”
Alicia had been told these no fewer than ten times since she walked in for her first shift. The contract and massive NDA she signed two days ago also made sure to mention this a million times. There was little tolerated at Midnight. Stealing was obviously out of the question. Being rude to guests?Kiss your job goodbye. Another great way to make sure one did not work in this circle ever again? Sleep with a guest.
Flirting was to be expected. After all, guests came in hoping for a dreamy, good time. A standoffish or robotic hostess did not set a good impression. What Alicia would learn, Susan assured, was how to strike a good balance between flirting and professionalism.
“If any guest makes you feel unsafe at any time,” Susan said, gesturing to a bright white button on the ring of keys issued to every hostess, “Hit this button. Security will find you.”
Alicia tried not to think about that.I’ve worked my fair share of lounges. Each one more exclusive and high-end than the last. Someone always got handsy. She could only imagine what a mess working at Midnight could be.
She hadn’t even heard of this place until her roommate, Candice, who also worked in the nighttime entertainment industry, mentioned that the biggest gig in town was looking for a new hostess. Alicia didn’t think twice about putting in an application as soon as Candice told her who to email. Seemed odd that they had asked for a picture – was that even legal? – but…
When Alicia studied the servers, bartenders, coat checkers, performers, and the other hostesses who came in for a meeting, she realized they all had something in common.
They werebeautiful.
Different shades of beautiful, of course. Susan was shorter and a bit curvier than most of the other women there, but she wasgorgeous. Fluffy auburn hair. Perfect skin and a symmetrical face. Breasts bigger than Alicia’s head.
No surprise. Alicia had often been told that she was conventionally attractive. All the good it did the lanky blonde who tripped over her own broad feet and stuffed her bra so she could compete with all the D cups in the house. Her mother may have bemoaned Alicia’s ability to eat and stay thin, but her doctor often hounded her to gain weight. There was no winning. Especially when she compared herself to the perfect beauties busting ass in Midnight, each one representing some fantasy for the largely male clientele that came in. Tall women. Short women. Curvy women. Skinny women. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, girls with bright blue hair. Most of the women left after the staff meeting since it was supposed to be a slow Thursday night, but Alicia was awestruck, nonetheless.I must be replacing the last all-limbs blonde. She noticed there wasn’t anyone else there who looked like her.
