The Parlour (VDB #1) (18 page)

Back to Roxanne. Back to work.

~

I’ve been in this suite for most of the afternoon and early evening trying to find the right clothes to wear for ‘working the club’. Presumably something with a bit of sex appeal is necessary, but if the outfits I saw the other night are anything to go by, I’m not even entertaining the thought of matching. Wearing scraps of leather wrapped around various orifices is not a look I’m comfortable with. My eyes scan the pile of clothes that have been delivered. Apparently that blonde bimbo went shopping again while we were at the park, and all of this is typically her. There’s nothing but sexy, tight-fitting designer labels scattered around, leaving me with little option but to choose something I’m uncomfortable with. Perhaps that’s what these types like. Is it what Pascal likes? I quickly chastise myself for thinking about what Pascal wants then realise I’ve unconsciously picked up a sage green, silk pencil skirt. Christ. I drop it immediately and search for anything but green. I’ve just got a job to do tonight. This is nothing to do with him other than the fact that I’ll be getting my first proper lesson, apparently.

So I can make him some money.

Sighing out a breath at my whore status, I grab at a cream coloured matching skirt and jacket and then swipe a red shirt to hint at seduction. Not that I want anything to do with seducing anyone, and I’m certain it’s irrelevant how seductive I look anyway. These men, or women, probably just take anything to fulfil their needs, don’t they? I could probably go out there in my normal attire and they’d still be interested in my innocence. It seems innocence is of great interest in places like these. Not that there’s really anything innocent about me, only in this scenario. There’s nothing here that suggests relaxed femininity. A floaty skirt or dress maybe, or a wide-legged pair of trousers with a flowery blouse – anything like that would have been more appropriate for me than this selection of skin-tight ensembles. Mind you, I definitely do need a bit of help creating some curves at the moment. Thin might be preferable to the outside world, but it doesn’t help create a womanly figure, and given my lack of breasts, I suppose I could do with something a little more clinging to form a shape of sorts.

I start to strap myself into some of the underwear that’s been provided. This set is as pleasant as the selection allows – subtle gold knickers and bra with a wide matching garter belt and corset creation. It fits perfectly and manages to lift my boobs, giving the impression of at least a D cup. I stare blankly at the mirror’s reflection of myself and wonder what it is that I’ll have to do down there this evening. He hasn’t really said much about it. He just told me I’d be accompanied by Reubin, who would keep me protected from any over zealous hands that might get a little on the agitated side. It’s not the most comforting of thoughts really. Reubin seems a kind young man, but I’m not sure he’ll be able to fight any of those other men off if last night’s grappling match is anything to go by. In fact, I’m certain the only person who has any control over proceedings downstairs is Pascal himself. But then, Ruebin does seem very close to him. I’ve seen them whispering in corners, or rather, Reubin looking at the floor while Pascal smirks above him, or gives him a stern glare. It makes me wonder what their relationship is. He seems far too sweet for anyone like Pascal to be interested in.

I stare into the mirror again and flick my hair about in the hope of managing some oomph. It doesn’t help. It just hangs there limply, framing my face with those sharp edges that have been cut in. Lord knows how that salon managed it. What did they say? Something about massaging my scalp to create tension in the roots. I don’t know, but I try it anyway and then spritz some more lacquer on. The effect seems to work, to a degree, and I find myself still staring dispassionately at my underwear-clad profile. I can’t stop the back of my mind from thinking about dressing for him rather than the crowd of eager hands that will be waiting. That’s what he said earlier.
“They will be very eager for you, my dear.”
Joy.

After his last announcement at the park about timeless seconds, he’s not once called me Lilah. We’ve gone back to ‘my dear’ all the time. Maybe it’s his way of widening the distance again. I suppose he’s right to do just that. If I put my legal head on, that’s exactly what we should both be doing, keeping that distance as far apart as possible. So, after the third time of hearing him calling me ‘my dear’, that’s exactly what I did. I forgot the kiss, forgot his smell, forgot he’s a highly intelligent male who I could quite easily fall for, and just looked away from him as much as possible, opting instead for the floor. I’ve even resorted to using Sir as much as my throat will allow it. If I just keep saying it, maybe I’ll mean it, and then I can just switch to using it with any other man that happens to use me for his purpose this evening, or for the next month.

There is a soft knock on the door behind me and I call out, “Come in,” without a single thought of who it could be. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m a whore at the moment. Clothes will be of no importance in the next few hours anyway. It opens softly and Ruebin enters with a glass of champagne and some crackers on a silver platter.

“I wondered if you might be hungry, Lilah.” He smiles a little and places them on the coffee table by the wingback chairs.

“You’re sweet, Ruebin, but no, thank you. I think the last thing I need is alcohol at the moment,” I reply, stretching for the skirt and shirt. “Is it time for me to go down there already?”

“Nearly, and he suggested I get you into the club before Mr. White gets here.”

“Why is he coming in here?”

“He’s not. His suite is next door. It’s best if you just stay clear of him. Although he was kind to me a while ago, and taught me a valuable lesson where Sir is concerned.”

“I doubt that man has a kind bone in his body. In fact, he told me himself that he wasn’t kind at all. I’m very happy to stay well clear of him regardless of his heroics. Why that beautiful woman is anywhere near him, I do not know.”

“Can I give you some advice, Lilah?”

“Please do. I’m in need of as much as possible.”

“I’d be careful with your tone about him. He’s incredibly powerful, and has the full attention of Sir. Collaring someone like Pascal does not happen lightly in our world. Forget how you might feel and be respectful at all times.”

“What do you mean? What’s collaring?”

“He owns Sir. There is nothing that Sir will not do to accommodate his wishes, and that would include anything to do with you or me. So, just give him the respect he deserves for that status and you will be fine.”

“Who is he? You say he’s powerful, but I’ve never heard of him.”

“Do some research on my laptop later if you like. There’s plenty of information available on him. But don’t stick your nose into his business. He isn’t known for sympathy or kindness, as you quite rightly pointed out.” He sounds idyllic. Probably another arsehole.

“Oh, right. I will, thank you. Are we ready then?” I reply, slipping my arms into the short fitted jacket and dismissing the notion that he’s anything I should be worried about. I’ll just avoid him at all costs and not think about his relationship with Pascal because that is none of my business, is it?

“Are you not nervous?”

“About what, Ruebin? I made an agreement with Pascal, and I intend to honour it. If that means fucking half the men or women in this place for a month, then that’s what I’ll do. It’s not like any of them are in my mind. It’s just a physical act, one I can do without any thought other than the money I’ll make at the end of it.” Unfortunately, I can feel the irritation growing inside at the nervous disposition that appears to be wracking my innards to startling effect.

“Submission is far more than that, Lilah. It takes honour and trust. Giving yourself to someone is the very highest degree of loyalty and respect for their wishes.” Is it? Really? Well, bully for it. I can’t afford that luxury and I’m damned if I’m letting any emotion for any of this shit get into my head. Job. That’s it. Make money and leave. Fucking stupid people and their warped idea of normal.

“Not if I don’t love them, and not if I don’t let it affect me,” I snap out, cupping my bob in the mirror one last time before I turn for the door and signal that it’s time to get this show on the road. “Let’s get it straight, shall we? I’m now a whore, Ruebin. For your precious ‘Sir’. I’m here to make money on the orders of a man I hardly know. And I do this because I have no other choice until I make the money I need to get out of here. Then, I’ll make a judgement on this D/s obligation and its merits, or lack thereof. As far as I can tell so far, it’s idiotic and unreasonable in its odd demands on a relationship. There is no sense or logic to it, and if I could make my money another way rather than spreading my fucking legs then I would, but I can’t. So I’ll make my body do what it needs to in order to get where I need to be. Sorry, but that’s the way I feel, and no amount of your strange idealisms or your odd courtships and collarings are going to persuade me any differently,” I shout, quite cathartically. And as I suck in some much needed air, while trying to control my glare at the poor man, I watch the door open in front of me at the hands of someone else.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what did you just say?”
Shit.

It’s Elizabeth’s voice, and as she scans my clothes, then wanders over to the chair and crosses her extremely long legs, I feel mortification rising inside me. My little rant could be deemed disrespectful, I suppose. Shit. My gaze finds her shoes before I’m aware I’ve deferred to her presence, then I stare at her legs in awe. They are clad in a perfect example of what I would have chosen to wear – long, tailored burgundy trousers with a cropped top showing off her astoundingly flat stomach area. I narrow my eyes at her for blatantly barging in and lift my gaze to hers, wondering what she holds over Pascal in order to have thumbprint access to his suite. She smiles as she picks up my champagne and takes a sip.

“Hello again. I’m not sure that’s anything to do with you,” I eventually reply, nodding at the door again and looking toward Ruebin to aid my escape. No one is a friend here, no one. Including this woman with her beautiful smile and her pleasant demeanour. She may have been nice to me, and because of that I’ll be civil, but if I’m going to make it through any of this, I have to stay dispassionate about everything, and everyone.

“No, Lilah. Wait, please. I need to know what you said. I heard the last bit, clearly. Hell, most of the club heard that, but what did you mean about making money?”

“That’s definitely none of your business,” I snap in reply, reaching for the door handle. “I have to go. Pascal is waiting, and I–”

“Pascal can damn well wait,” she spits out as she points at the other chair and flattens her smile. “You sit your arse back down and you talk to me about what’s bothering you. You’re clearly not happy with whatever this is. Ruebin, go and tell him she’s with me and will be down when I’m finished with her.” Remarkably, he bows and scuttles backward as if he’s frightened of her, then opens the door to leave. “And bring some more champagne up, will you?” she continues as he backs out of the door and closes it quietly.

I’m left not knowing where to look or what to do as she continues to point at the chair and raises a brow in authority. “Lilah, believe me, as long as you’re not here to destroy my men, I’m on your side. Sit. Relax. There’s plenty of time for whatever it is that Pascal has planned for you. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. You won’t get into any trouble.”

“How would you know what trouble I’ll get into? And why do you know anything? Who are you? I’m not being funny but I have a job to do and I need to get on with it, sooner rather than later.”

“Me? I’m just a girl with a catering company who happens to be in love with a difficult man or two. I also happen to know a lot about all of this, so just tell me what I need to know and I’ll see if I can help you out, okay?”

“I think you just heard, didn’t you?” I reply, gazing at the array of diamonds around her neck and wrist. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an exquisite ring before. Clearly Alexander White is very wealthy indeed.

“Is he paying you to do something that includes having sex with other people? Not that that’s a problem as long as it’s what you want to do. Is it?” My eyes find the floor as she asks for the truth with a sigh. Truth, wonderful.

“Yes, he’s paying me fifty thousand to service him in whatever way he chooses for one month.”

“Why?”

“I need the money so I can get a flat again, and try to find a job. I was running the streets after losing everything and Roxanne found me and very kindly offered me a job. Then he came and brought me here, but then he is her boss, so I suppose I work for him now. Then he offered me money for doing all this, which was a bit odd because he didn’t have to really. I was prepared to do it anyway, to learn so I could make money quicker and get back out into the real world.”

“He’s paying you fifty thousand pounds to fuck him?”

“Dollars.” Pounds would have been better, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Why would he do that?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s not just him. It’s others, too. Actually, I think he might be paying me so he can teach me. I don’t know. I just know I need the money, that’s all. And I don’t want to make him angry, so…”

“What did you do before?”

“Legal clerk come secretary.”