Longing: Club Inferno (2 page)

Her last big romance had been with an Italian count. He’d helped her get her modeling career started. Cesare had even gotten Colleen a job at the Double Diamond casino. It wasn’t a showgirl position but a slightly more respectable one in marketing. Colleen used her exquisite good taste to keep the high rollers and their glamorous arm candy interested in staying in the casino. That was where she met Alfred Granger, billionaire and dirty old man extraordinaire.

“You don’t have your cap set on Istvahn, do you?” Colleen asked.

“Oh dear lord, no. I mean, he’s hot in a Daniil Strakhov/Russian
Vogue
sort of way.”

“I don’t even know who that is.”

“You need to expand your horizons, girlfriend.”

“If my horizons get any more expanded, I’m going to need another house.”

“So buy one.”

Colleen seemed to consider it for a moment. Alfie had taken one look at Colleen and bought her contract from the Double Diamond. They were married a few months later. Anya and Cesare went to the wedding. When she caught the bouquet, Cesare crumpled like a used paper sack and told her his mama had arranged a marriage for him. Anya’s dreams of being a countess and of true love had died that day.

“But it’s obvious he’s got a thing for Nefertiti.” Anya dusted her hands off as if she could wipe away the melancholy memories. Her agent’s phone call shouldn’t have affected her like this. After Mama Cesare—who painted insults like she was Michelangelo—Anya’s skin was as thick as Istvahn’s head.

“Yeah, I know,” Colleen said, slamming her hand down on her desk. “I lost a bet.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. The least they could do was hook up, but no. It’s back to business as usual, which normally I’d be fine with. But they’re both so unhappy. I can’t get Nefertiti to tell me what’s going on. Maybe you’ll have better luck?”

“I’ll bug her about it. So what staff are we developing this Friday?”

“The Couture staff.”

“Both sides?”

“Almost everyone is working on both sides now. The weekly staff events are a way to unwind and let down our hair. It’s hard to watch all that humping going on all around you and not get involved.”

Anya didn’t find it hard. She actually found it very sweet and sexy, just not for her. Maybe she was used to holding herself apart since Cesare shattered her heart into little pieces. Watching was safe. You didn’t get hurt and you risked nothing. Still, a little part of her missed the excitement.

“So this is our reward for being so good during the week?” Anya said.

“Speak for yourself. I try never to be just good.”

“Ain’t that the truth. So what’s the theme?”

“Rock and roll. I booked Switchblade in the arena next week. All the proceeds go to Mallory’s shelter.”

Colleen’s sister ran a battered women’s shelter in the worst part of the city—it had all of the gangs and none of the hospitals. Colleen financed it, which made Anya quip that “urban renewal” wasn’t just for hipster clothes anymore.

“Didn’t the last event you ran turn bloody?” Anya said. A few months ago, Couture had branched out to host a mixed martial arts fight. It was another charity event, but Colleen thought she could take some events away from the local casinos if the MMA program worked out. It had been a disaster. The fight promoter had been a mole and brought in a bloodthirsty crowd. He told the fighters that if they ever wanted to work again, they’d go all out. Two fighters had career-ending injuries. Colleen paid their entire medical expenses and told them if they wanted they would have a job with one of her companies when they healed.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” Colleen said. “I’m promoting this on my own with Switchblade. No more going outside. I used to provide a catering service to the band. They owe me.”

“I didn’t know you were in food services.”

“I wasn’t.” Colleen smiled.

Yeah, before she married Alfie and for a brief time afterward, Colleen had tried her hand at running an escort service. Her girls had class and the drive to become rich widows themselves. But it had all ended in tears when a near brush with the law put Colleen on the straight and narrow.

“All right, I suppose I can let my rock-and-roll roots show,” Anya said. She needed something to shake her out of this funk. She had a line on getting a part in an off-Broadway play. So what if she had to lose weight? Actresses did it all the time. Anya straightened up, feeling a little better. She would do an all-fruit cleanse and exercise. Maybe buy industrial-strength Spanx. She would wow the director and producer with her grace and charm. And if all else failed, she’d flash her boobs. That had gotten her out of more than one tight spot. “Did I ever tell you my mom was a singer in a punk rock band?”

“Nope.” Colleen tanked the rest of her soda and burped daintily behind her hand.

“They called themselves Persephone Rising.”

“Were they any good?” She tossed the can to Anya, who did an over-the-arm hook shot into the trash can across the room.

“Have you ever heard of them?” Anya countered, throwing her hands up in victory at the three-point shot.

Colleen shrugged. “There are a lot of good bands I’ve never heard of.”

“Name one.”

“Get out of my office,” Colleen said, pointing with her pencil.

Six
A.M
. was damned early to be at the pool. But it also gave her a moment to get into the lounge chair before Mr. Stripper got there to do laps. She knew his name was Clint, that he taught a pole-dancing class, and that he helped out with the self-defense course taught by Mallory’s fiancé, Max. Anya had on her shades and was sipping water when Clint ambled in. He nodded at her, and she gave him a smile that beckoned him to come over, just like she did every morning. He never did, just dove into the water and started to do laps. Anya pretended to read her book when he swam toward her and ogled his ass when he swam away.

Clint glided through the water like it was effortless. Each stroke of his arm had beads of water sluicing off a defined muscle. She fanned herself with the book. It was silly to just sit here and drool. She should just get up and strike up a conversation. Although, he was exercising. She didn’t want to bother him. Anya bit her lip with indecision before standing up and firmly putting the book down.

Her cellphone rang, echoing off the walls of the pool room.

Who the hell was calling her at this hour?

She lunged for her purse before it could ring a second time. “This is Anya Litton.”

“How’s the diet going?” Trey asked.

“Well, in twenty-four hours the only thing I’ve managed to lose is one whole day.” Anya drank more of her cucumber-infused water. She made a face, wishing it was a mimosa.

“Not good, babe. You’ve got a month.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “What the hell are you doing up at this ungodly hour of the morning?”

“No rest for the wicked, sweets. I called to tell you that you’ve got competition.”

“What do you mean?” Anya arched her foot and frowned. She should book a pedicure.

“I’ve heard rumors that they’re looking at Rita Lewis too.”

Of course they are.
“She’s in Chicago, isn’t she?” Anya slammed her foot down on the chair. Rita was Lex Luthor to her Superman. She made it a point to know where that bitch was at all times. They’d started out as friends during their Lane Bryant photo shoots. Then Anya got the Igigi gig and Rita took it as a personal affront. It didn’t matter that Rita became Kiyonna’s it girl out in California. Anya got a global modeling job before she did. The gloves came off. For example, after Anya dumped Cesare, she figured he’d get married to the countess his mother had chosen for him and she’d never hear about him again. Not so. He got married all right, and Rita climbed into his bed and became his mistress. They were still together as far as she knew.

“She was last seen in Manhattan, stalking your part.”

“Great,” Anya said. “Does she know I’m short-listed for it?”

“Babe, why do you think she’s here? That chick can hold a grudge. She’s had it in for you ever since Milan fashion week 2012.”

“Longer than that.”

“Then you stole the J-Na evening gown shoot from her.”

“I did not. I didn’t even know they were considering her portfolio. She’s worked with them since. It’s not like I blackballed her. I wouldn’t even know how to blackball.”

“Yeah, you’re more the blue ball type of girl.”

“Just because I won’t sleep with you, Trey, doesn’t mean I’m frigid. It means I’ve got good taste. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”
Sort of. As soon as I get enough courage to ask him out.
Anya watched Clint slice through the water doing his laps and smiled.

“That’s a new one. I thought you still held a torch for the Italian stallion.”

“Ancient history,” Anya said, and got an idea for Fierocity—a Roman-inspired toga dress. She frowned. No, that was dumb. Except maybe for orgy night. At Club Inferno’s last one, Anya had gotten up the nerve to walk the length of the ballroom like it was the runway at Sodom and Gomorrah. It was fantastic, but she’d lost her nerve when a masked gladiator motioned for her to sit on his lap. Come to think of it, that gladiator had had thighs like Clint’s.

“If you say so. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Please don’t,” she said, but he had already hung up. “Honestly.” Anya turned off the ringer and dumped the phone back into her purse. Clint had stopped swimming and was sitting in the shallow end, leaning back with his eyes closed. She was about to march over there and start up a conversation when the doors slammed open, and Master Dante and his entourage walked in.

Master Dante was dressed in black leather pants and matching vest. His group consisted of females dressed as acrobats. Or maybe they really were acrobats; you could never tell with Master Dante. When Anya met him, she’d really wanted to call him Dante. But then he turned those emerald-green eyes on her and her spine automatically stiffened. He had a charisma that was so compelling Anya wouldn’t dare call him anything but Master Dante—and she didn’t have a submissive bone in her body.

More people were escorted in by his submissives. Jana was shirtless and a thin chain was attached to her pierced nipples. She wore leather pants, like Master Dante, and led in a group of five women who were dressed in bathing suits. Leo came next. He was naked. Anya did a double take. Well, not exactly. His penis was encased in a tiny curved steel cage. He led in five men who were in bathing suits. No other penis cages that she could see.

“You guys are in neutral territory,” Anya said, using the term that meant both Club Inferno members and the resort members could come and go as they pleased.

Dante turned his full attention to her and sauntered over, like a jungle cat stalking his prey. Anya resisted the urge to take a step back. He wasn’t as drop-dead gorgeous as Clint, but there was something compelling about him.

“We have the room rented for a private affair,” he said, moving in a step closer than most people would.

Sure enough, Anya saw the acrobats were putting out signs and drawing the shades to keep anyone from looking in. “Weren’t you afraid of people seeing your subs?” Anya gestured to Leo and Jana, who were kneeling at the deep end of the pool, their heads down, awaiting further orders.

“At this hour?” He chuckled, a deep rumbling purr.

Anya caught herself grinning back. “Good point.”

“My assistants”—he indicated the acrobats—“have clothes for everyone once the exercise is over. So we won’t draw any attention.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get out of your way.”

“Stay,” he said, cupping her face. “I think you would like it.”

“What do you have planned?” She rested her cheek in his palm and tried not to look up at him adoringly. He had a way of making you feel that you were the only woman in the room. But she knew that the price of that attention was what Jana and Leo were doing. She wasn’t ready to give up that control.

“We’re going to do some breath play.” Master Dante eased his hand from her cheek to lightly encircle her neck. His thumb stroked her throat. The intimacy of it surprised her. The power in his hand was a mild turn-on. She swallowed and stepped back. His hand dropped back to his side.

“It sounds interesting,” Anya said. “But it looks like you’ve got a crowd. I’m more for a smaller group.”

“You could watch. If you see anything that interests you, we could meet up to discuss it. I’d love to have some time with you in a more private setting. I think you would be a fantastic submissive.”

“I think I’d disappoint you. I’m a bit too much of a smart-ass.”

“I can work with that.”

“And I don’t like pain that much. Or humiliation.” Anya shook her head. “It’s not for me.”

Master Dante smiled. “You’d be surprised. I can also Dom you using sexual deprivation.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Anya said.

“Ask Leo. He’s wearing the chastity device.”

So that’s what the penis cage is.
“Why?”

“For orgasm denial. He’s being punished. I caught him and Jana having sex without my permission.”

“They need your permission?”

“All my submissives do. I make it worth their while.”

“Is Jana wearing a chastity belt too?” Anya looked over at the kneeling woman.

“No, she’s not allowed to come either. But her punishment was to pleasure those men.”

“Pleasure how?”

“However they wanted. With her mouth or hand only, though. Her pussy is mine.”

Anya was taken aback by his frank statement. She knew Jana was a little wild and liked everything that Club Inferno offered. But doing five men as a punishment—Anya couldn’t see herself allowing Master Dante that much control.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Master Dante said. “And be honest or I’ll get out my crop.”

Anya giggled nervously. She wasn’t sure if he was serious. No, scratch that. She knew he was dead serious. She was afraid she’d rip it out of his hand and snap it in two. Provided he wasn’t too strong for her. Hoo boy. She was getting in over her head. She glanced over at Clint, who was toweling off.

“My first thought was that Jana was forced against her will, but then I realized that wouldn’t be true. Jana loves you. Loves the kink. She’d do anything to please you.”

“She enjoyed herself. I would not ask my sub to do anything against her hard limit. Well, I’d ask. But I’d respect it if she said no. Tell me, what else did you think?”

“I was wondering what the other five women thought. Are they wives and girlfriends?”

“Jana was kneeling at the men’s feet. I had tied her up to bind her breasts and ankles. She could only use her mouth or her hands. The women watched, and I told them to use it as a learning tool for techniques. One woman did say it was unfair.”

“She said that to you?” Anya gave the woman a lot of credit.

“So I had her sit on her husband’s face while Jana used her sweet mouth on him.”

“Did they all want that after seeing that?”

Master Dante grinned. “You ask a lot of questions. I think you’re more interested in this than you let on.”

“Of course I’m interested in stuff like this. I work here.”

“So if you don’t think the submissive way is for you, what about the master?”

“I have a hard time with pets. My goldfish always died.” Anya shook her head. “I’m no good with responsibility.”

“I hear a lot of excuses, my dear. A few sessions with me and we can strip those away.”

“Hey, you two.” Clint broke into the conversation. Anya had been so transfixed by Master Dante, she didn’t even see him come up. “What’s going on?”

“Hello, Clint. I was just telling Anya here that we have a breath-play exercise about to start. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, Dante. I’d like to observe, if you don’t mind.”

Anya’s eyes whipped back to Master Dante to see how he took being called Dante, but he didn’t seem offended. There was a mild amusement on his face.

“Are you staying, Anya?” Master Dante asked. “Because we really should get started.”

Both men were looking at her.

“Why not?” she found herself saying. “I’ll watch too.”

“Good, why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the lounge chairs, and we’ll begin momentarily.”

Anya was super-conscious that she was wearing a form-fitting one-piece bathing suit and a silky sarong around her hips. She adjusted her lounge chair so it was more in a sitting position and wasn’t sure where to look when Clint dragged a chair next to her.

“I’m Clint Reyes, by the way.” He held out his hand. “You’re Mallory’s friend, right?”

“Anya Litton.” She shook it, but he didn’t let go. “I teach a class on both sides of the fence. Accessories and sexy talk.”

“I’ll have to check that out. I’m mainly on the members-only side. I teach a pole-dancing course. I’d love to see you there. I’m thinking about doing a dance party theme.”

“Sure,” Anya said.
Is this a date? Or is he trying to drum up business?
“What kind of theme?”

“Clothing optional. It’s called ‘Dirty Dance Drop Your Pants.’ ”

Anya gaped at him. “Do you drop your pants?”

“What kind of host would I be if I didn’t?”

“I’m there,” she said.

“Erotic asphyxiation,” Dante began, his deep voice rolling off the cement floor and walls, “is dangerous. You can die if you are not careful. So we’re not going to teach you strangulation or chest compression. That’s a more advanced class. You need to have a mastery, a control and trust. We’re going to play around in the pool. Find a partner and get in the water. Get used to the temperature. As always, swimsuits are optional.”

Anya realized she was still gripping Clint’s hand and she let go. “Sorry about that.”

He was sitting more facing her than facing the pool. “Are you into things like this?”

“I’ve had people want to strangle me, does that count?” she quipped.

“It’s pretty intense,” Clint said. “But Dante’s right. You have to know what you’re doing.”

“Do you like to choke girls?” she asked, a nervous tremble in her voice.

“If they ask me to,” he said.

Anya’s breathing was already messed up. His naked leg was inches from her.

“Get warmed up. Kiss your partner, touch them. We’re going to have fun.” Master Dante stood between his two submissives and stroked their heads lovingly. They, in turn, rested against his legs.

“I’m new to all this. What’s it like?” Anya said.

“I like to use a black glove. Either silk or leather. I usually want to be inside her before it starts.”

Anya wrenched her gaze from the people groping and kissing in the pool to Clint’s dark eyes. Flecks of gold sparkled in them. She licked her dry lips, and his eyes dipped down to them and then down further to her breasts. Her nipples were straining at the fabric of her bathing suit.

“I’d put her on her back and scoot her all the way down to the edge of the bed,” Clint continued in a low voice that sounded like honey over gravel.

Anya was picturing it. Only it was her and him.

“I’d bend her in half with her legs on my shoulders. Then, I would fuck her slow until she was about to come.”

Anya was transfixed; the outside faded as his rough words felt like caresses on her body.

“Then I’d gently place my hand on her throat, pressing on her carotid artery.” He raised his finger and ever so slowly, giving her the chance to stop him, touched her there with the barest of pressure.