"Okay," I echoed.
"At midnight, we open the curtains, and a few of our performers get on stage behind a glass partition. Some of our guests are very particular about this, they like knowing who is performing when and where so they can reserve a seat close to the glass. Some men stick their faces up against it, and we have to clean the glass every hour. Disgusting."
Kelsey was talking so fast that I could barely keep up with her. "As the host, do I sit people here, or is it open seating?"
"Open seating," Kelsey replied while marching up to the bar top and grabbing a shot of clear liquid. I watched in awe as she tossed it back with a slight hiss. "The cocktail waitresses have this area handled. You will handle all of our clients’ deepest, darkest fantasies." Kelsey slammed the shot glass on a dark wooden bar top and nodded toward the front of the club where people were walking in.
"That sounds a little intimidating," I said.
"Not really. You’ll get used to it. But if you want to talk about intimidating"—she paused to nod toward our left—"Nicholas Civella fits the bill." I followed her gaze, my heart beating erratically as Malice approached. Gleams of goose bumps started to appear on my skin. He was wearing an all-black suit. Black dress shoes. Black Gucci belt. Black button-up shirt. His hair was tamed with gel, and he had airpods in his ear. "Shit, he’s walking this way. Don’t say anything stupid," Kelsey stammered before patting her hair.
Malice stopped in front of us and looked me up and down. If he liked the outfit William picked out for me, then he didn’t let it show. His lip twitched as I squirmed in place. His heavy stare felt like an anvil on my exposed skin.
"Is this the new hire?" he asked Kelsey, his voice slightly raised so people around us could hear. I was given strict instructions to pretend like I was just another employee and not to approach Malice in public.
"Yes, sir," Kelsey replied, her voice shaky.
We were supposed to be pretending to be strangers, but I couldn’t help but still feel tension between us. It was palpable. Unforgettable. Overwhelmingly sensual, too. Certainly everyone else recognized it also. "She looks the part," he murmured before reaching out to run his finger along my side. My skin tingled everywhere he touched. Slowly, Malice leaned in to whisper in my ear. His hot breath feathered down my neck. "Come see me after your shift."
Malice pulled back and I nodded. "Yes, sir," I whispered. He paused about three inches from my face and breathed me in, a smile on his plush lips.
"You’ll fit in here just fine," he replied before leaving us to go and sit in a corner booth.
The moment he was out of earshot, Kelsey let out a low whistle. "You are in trouble," she said. "You don’t want to be on Mr. Civella’s radar, honey."
I stared at him, seemingly transfixed. "Why not?" I asked. Little did she know, I was smack dab in the middle of whatever radar Malice had.
Kelsey teasingly grabbed a napkin and pretended to wipe drool from my chin. "Because that man is deadly," she replied, all humor from her voice gone.
I knew with complete certainty that she was absolutely correct. "I’ll stay away from him," I promised, even though I didn’t know how that was going to be possible anymore.
"Come on. Let’s go." Kelsey smiled encouragingly before leading me back to the hostess stand. It was an enormous desk with two oversized computer screens. "Every guest has a card. The moment they walk through the door, they are expected to scan their card. A customized profile will show up on the computer." At the desk, Hale was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. I hoped he wasn't planning on staying there all night. Kelsey walked up to him and held out her palm. "Can I borrow your membership card? It's for training purposes." Hale huffed in annoyance before digging through his breast pocket and pulling out a black rectangular piece of plastic. "Thank you!" Kelsey sang before walking back over to the desk.
She scanned the card, and immediately a profile of Hale popped up. It had an unflattering photo of him, a list of every time he checked into the club, what rooms he went to, and what his preferences were. There was also a list of his favorite performers. His favorite...kinks. "The program is pretty intuitive," Kelsey explained. "It will provide suggestions based on his history, likes and dislikes. We also have a scheduling system for our clients. Guests can reserve rooms online, and it will show up here. Your job is to inform them of what is on the schedule. For example," Kelsey said, scanning Hale's profile, "it says here that Hale has a crush fetish."
"What's that?" I asked.
She waved her hand nonchalantly. "He likes watching women step on shit. Crushing it with their heels, ya know?" She leaned closer to read the notes on his profile. "It says he enjoys watching kittens, bugs, and puppies get crushed." She paused to wince. "But we don't abuse animals in this establishment. No kink shaming here, but Eden’s Place has to have at least some standards, eh? We have a performer that steps on glass and food."
"Well, thank God for that," I whispered. I couldn't imagine what kind of monster liked watching innocent animals get crushed. It was fucking barbaric and told me everything I needed to know about Hale. I didn't trust him one bit.
I looked over her shoulder at the calendar. A performer labeled Crush Fetish was highlighted in red. Kelsey continued, calling over her shoulder at Hale. "Your girl is in the Calla Lily room tonight."
Hale marched over to us and grabbed his card back from Kelsey. "I'm good tonight," he began before looking down his nose at me. "I had my own private performance a couple days ago. It was hot, something I'd normally have to pay a premium to see."
Oh...oh my God.
No. Certainly he wasn’t talking about—
But of course he was.
My stomach sank as I realized what his words meant. I’d fulfilled his disgusting fantasy. Watching me...crush...that man was his kink. I sold my soul, and he got off.
"Let’s move on to the profile management of the job…" Kelsey said, oblivious to the existential crisis I was having. I had to press my hand to my mouth to stop myself from vomiting.
"She’s going to puke," Hale said while cracking his knuckles. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Kelsey snapped her attention to me, confused. "Juliet? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I rushed out. "I just need to use the bathroom." I didn't even give Kelsey a chance to speak, I walked as fast as my death trap stilettos could carry me and as far away from Hale as possible. I didn't care where I went, I just needed to put some distance between us. It felt so wrong, knowing that one of the most traumatic moments of my life got him off. It was an invasive, nasty turn of events that made me feel sick to my stomach.
I went down one of the side halls, not really sure where I was going. The red, flashing lights made the space difficult to navigate. My vision was blurring, and my heart raced. I knew in my gut that I hadn't taken the time to process everything. I just kept pushing forward, but something about Hale sent me over the edge.
But stark white light caught my eye, jarring me out of my thoughts. The hallway was like a gigantic aquarium with waterless tanks. On both my left and right were glass walls separating me from the performers. Black curtains covered some sections. Some were already open for guests to see.