4. Cora
Chapter four
Cora
“ I s this a brothel?” The question bursts from my lips, unable to be contained a second longer.
Madame Sophia gestures for me to sit in the luxurious armchair opposite her desk. Her office is as elegant and intimidating as she is, tastefully decorated with a blend of modern and classic elements. The dark timber desk dominates the space, flanked by bookshelves and art pieces, and a large frosted-glass windowpane stretches across the opposite wall.
Her lips curl into a slight smile as she takes her place behind the desk. If my outburst surprises her, she hides it well. “Eden is a unique establishment, Cora. We pride ourselves on providing an exclusive and sophisticated experience for our clientele. It requires a certain level of discretion, professionalism, and uniqueness. We cater to the discerning gentleman…” she pauses. “Who possess particular desires.”
“What kind of desires?” I ask, tilting my head. Anxiety grips me in a tight fist. I desperately need this job; Dad and Leo are counting on me. I can’t let them down. A cocktail waitress? Sure, I can do that. But hooker? That’s a huge step I’m not ready to take.
Her sharp blue eyes appraise me, and I get the sense that she’s the type of woman who doesn’t miss a thing. “The majority of our clients come from wealthy backgrounds and hold positions of power. They consider Eden their playground for pleasure and debauchery. This place allows them to live out their fantasies in a safe, consensual way with our goddesses—but more importantly, in a private way.” She smiles with a practiced smoothness. “Privacy and integrity are everything at Eden—that’s why we have more than two hundred men on our waitlist.”
She still hasn’t answered my question.
“What does a goddess do, exactly?” I ask, sensing she’s avoiding a direct answer.
“There are two main roles,” she says carefully. “Goddesses serve drinks to the gentlemen in the bar and, if requested, may spend time with them privately, ensuring their needs are met in… various ways.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “You didn’t answer me before… What kind of desires are we talking about here?” I do my best to keep the frustration out of my voice.
Her lips twist into a half-smile. “Let me show you instead.” She retrieves a remote from her desk drawer and walks to the window, motioning for me to join her. She clicks a button on the remote and the frosted glass clears, revealing the room beyond.
I gasp, my jaw dropping.
On the other side is a large, opulent room, with a bar and plush couches and cushions in black, gold, and deep red. It’s a striking contrast to the minimalist glass and marble of the foyer—exactly what I’d imagined for a gentlemen’s club called Eden.
The room is filled with well-dressed men in suits. Some sip from expensive glass tumblers filled with amber liquid, while others remain perfectly still, their eyes locked on the front of the room.
What captures my attention isn’t the decadence of the interior or the men, but the ten naked women kneeling on a raised platform. Their heads are bowed, and their faces are hidden by a curtain of hair. Each woman wears a delicate black ribbon collar around her neck. With their backs straight and knees slightly parted, the audience can see their glistening lower lips and the obvious arousal shimmering on their inner thighs.
Heat pools in my abdomen, settling in my core. I resist the urge to rub my thighs together. A groan almost slips out when my nipples push against my bra.
What the fuck is happening?
I turn to find Madame Sophia watching me intently. A knowing smile plays on her lips.
“What is this?” I whisper, careful not to disturb the tension on the other side even though I’m sure they can neither see nor hear us.
“Our clientele consists of dominant men who seek the company of submissive women. Our establishment operates as a bar each evening, providing a secure and private space where guests can unwind, free from the intrusion of paparazzi or indiscreet members of the public. Our goddesses are on hand to serve drinks and offer companionship, allowing guests to become acquainted with them. This is solely about social interaction and does not involve any sexual activity.”
My eyes sweep across the bar, and I let out a startled sound when I recognize a few familiar faces: two high-ranking politicians, a Hollywood A-lister, a rugby player turned commentator, and—
“Is that…?” I murmur, squinting as I spot a famous musician.
Madame Sophia chuckles. “Our members come from a variety of professions,” she says.
It’s only then that I notice women seated at the men’s feet, arranged on various cushions. Barefoot and dressed in the same black satin gown as Hailee, they seem content, chatting with their clients and nuzzling their cheeks against their legs. Some of the men are gently stroking their goddess’s hair while watching the stage proceedings. However, a few of the men are unattended, their gazes trained on the women kneeling on the platform as if waiting for something to happen.
Madame Sophia pulls me from my thoughts. “Every Saturday night, we host Le Jardin. A select group of gentlemen may choose one of ten goddesses to enjoy for the evening, but spots are highly coveted and book up months in advance. At the start of the night, each gentleman draws a random number to determine the order of their selection. The goddesses are presented on stage, naked and posed in a traditional submissive stance.” She gestures to the women on stage. “This allows clients to select their goddess for the evening. The selection process itself is a form of foreplay, a precursor to the night’s activities. It caters to our clients’ dominant side through the presentation and appraisal of the female body, tapping into their voyeuristic tendencies. At the same time, it engages the exhibitionist and submissive attributes of our goddesses. It’s a potent combination, as you can see.”
Even from behind the glass, the room pulses with power, heat crackling in the air like static before a storm. My breath stutters as Hailee moves toward the stage.
“Ah, we’re about to begin,” Madame Sophia says.
Hailee joins the women on stage. “Welcome to Le Jardin, gentlemen. If you’re participating this evening, you have already received your number. We’ve kept you waiting long enough; it’s time to commence your selection.” The bar’s energy shifts, the tension intensifying as the men prepare for the ritual that’s about to unfold.
One by one, each man approaches the stage to make his selection. He attaches a black leash to the wrist of his chosen goddess and leads her out of the bar to their assigned rooms for the evening. Some of the goddesses follow on their hands and knees, guided by the gentle tugs of the leash, while others walk confidently beside their partners.
What the actual fuck?
Madame Sophia, as if reading my mind, offers an explanation. “The client instructs the goddess to either walk or crawl to their room,” she says. “Some men enjoy the theatrics of it.” She shrugs, her nonchalance only adding to the surreal nature of what I’m witnessing.
My eyebrows shoot up, and I find myself wondering why I’m not more repulsed by the idea. Instead, a curious heat gathers in my core, a swirl of wonder and want that I can’t quite unravel.
Why is that so hot?
Once the ten goddesses are escorted out, the room buzzes with animated chatter. Soft music begins to play in the background. It’s as if a switch has been flipped, transforming the space from one of intense anticipation to a laidback lounge where powerful men can unwind.
I take a moment to process everything I’ve witnessed, chewing on my bottom lip as I contemplate my next move. Turning to Madame Sophia, I confess, “I’m not sure I can do this—I mean, if this is the job?” She nods curtly. “This is all… new to me. What if the client wants something I can’t do?”
She smiles understandingly, as if she’s heard this exact concern countless times before.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. That’s why we ask new recruits to come back and serve for one night before deciding to participate in Le Jardin. The only training you need to know for your trial is to avoid eye contact with clients until given permission and kneel when serving their drinks. It’s not much more than that.”
Her tone is reassuring. I’m still not sure about Le Jardin, but I could certainly give serving a try.
“This isn’t a hardcore BDSM club, Cora,” she continues softly. “Occasionally, a client may want to explore a particular fetish that involves costumes or equipment. But this will always be discussed and agreed upon beforehand. Only experienced clients with formal training are allowed to engage in riskier kinks. Plus, there will always be security present during your session to ensure safe play.”
She walks over to her desk and picks up a folder. “Here,” she hands it over with a patient smile. “This is your paperwork. Even though we’re not a BDSM club, you still need to fill out your limits list, indicating what you’re comfortable with and what’s a hard pass. We also use the standard safe word, ‘red,’ which can be used anywhere in the building. The safety and privacy of my goddesses are of utmost importance. You will also need to sign an NDA and hand over your phone to security upon arrival. This is expected of our clients as well.”
I exhale loudly and nod, trying to keep up with everything she’s saying. My mind is racing, but I can’t deny the temptation of it all—the allure of a world so far from my everyday life, and the excitement of doing something completely out of my comfort zone.
“Come back tomorrow night before making any decisions,” she says. “Just remember to give your completed paperwork to Hailee so we can pay you for the trial, even if you decide it’s not for you. You have nothing to lose and a thousand dollars to gain.” She sits down at her desk with a secretive smile on her lips.
“What?!” I splutter, my eyes widening in disbelief.
“Our rates are five thousand per night for Le Jardin. For bar work, it’s one thousand for a six-hour shift. Hair and makeup are done on-site by professional stylists, and the black gowns worn by all the goddesses are provided.”
Shit. This is too good to be true.
I can handle the bar work, but Le Jardin…? What if I’m chosen by someone I find repulsive? Could I actually go through with it?
I turn away from Madame Sophia and study the bar once more. The lush surroundings, the well-dressed men, and the beautiful women should make this an easy decision. The money alone is enough to solve a few of my problems. But my dignity…
Dignity isn’t going to pay my bills.
And yet, it’s more than that. My body’s reaction to everything I’ve seen and heard tonight is undeniable. My panties are drenched, and I’m horny as hell right now.
I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts aside, but they keep creeping back in. Since having Leo, my sex life has been non-existent, so maybe… maybe this is what I need to kick-start my libido. Get back on the horse, so to speak. And getting paid for it? That’s just the cherry on top. Five grand for one night of kinky sex is hard to pass up. It’s a lot of money.
But is it worth it?
I’ve got to do something. Dad’s medical bills aren’t going to pay themselves, and Leo needs more than just a roof over his head. One night of work could make a world of difference.
“Hope to see you tomorrow night, Cora,” Madame Sophia says, interrupting my thoughts. Her eyes are fixed on me with that same perceptive smile.
I give a small nod, trying to appear professional. “Thank you, Madame Sophia. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
She offers her hand and I shake it. “Take your time,” she says, the calmness in her tone reassuring. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.”
I leave her office, my mind racing. The echo of my heels on the marble floor seems louder than before as I make my way back down the corridor, past the closed doors, and through the foyer.
With one last glance at the mansion, I walk away. But even as I step into the humid night air, I know I’ll be back.