41. Chapter 41 Margot
Chapter forty-one
“That’s literally the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Mark says, sipping his martini and eyeing Marco hungrily. “We need to get some masks and go back to the club, babe.”
I blush, feeling a little better that the kinkiest night of my life sounds desirable and not terrifying to my friends.
Not for the first time, I realize how lucky and grateful I am to have these two men in my life.
Maybe New York will start to feel more like where I’m meant to be soon.
Especially if my masked man continues to be a part of it.
“He sounds like a wet dream to me, cara. With the mask and the dark energy…mmm.” Marco winks at me, then turns to Mark. “I think you’re right, tesoro. We should spice things up a bit.”
“It’s not creepy, though, that he gave me this phone? For all I know, he could be tracking me, or hacking it, and planning to traffic me or hold me for ransom.” I voice these thoughts even though I know they’re bullshit. My masked man is safe, I just know it.
“The background checks are extensive at the club, and honestly, Margot”—Mark sighs dramatically and stands to leave, dropping cash on the table to cover lunch—“would being kidnapped by him really be so bad?”
My companions leave, but I order another drink and watch people mill about on the street outside, lost in my thoughts and the anonymity of sitting in a corner of a busy restaurant.
The scary thing is, I’ve felt better this week than I have in months.
The noise and upheaval of my real life have been quieted, and I’ve been able to keep a laser-sharp focus on all the projects currently needing my attention.
Construction continues at the storefront, the jewelry store collaboration is up and running already in advance of Valentine’s Day, and sales have been through the roof in all our physical stores as well as online.
I’ve felt…happy? My life is nice. I love my family and my job and my hobbies and my friends.
Right? Maybe it’s more accurate to say I’ve felt more alive lately.
Sighing, I look again at the phone that I’ve kept charged since it was left on top of my clothes after my last encounter with my masked man.
He hasn’t reached out, and although I’m coming to terms with the psychological realities of why I enjoy our dynamic so much, I’m not ready to swallow my pride enough to text first. I pry my eyes from the phone and try to get back into my professional headspace for the rest of my day.
The last piece of the work puzzle is my final meeting at Rendezvous Too this afternoon, making sure everything is in place for their Valentine’s Day date auction.
It sounds like it’ll be a really fun time, with both men and women in the community signing up to be auctioned off for various activities.
Based on the dates’ requests for their specific pieces of lingerie, the offerings include everything from a nice vanilla dinner and night on the town all the way to, well, everything.
One man was almost in tears when he saw his specially designed jockstrap and harness, saying it would be perfect to wear while performing tasks for whoever bid on his “butler for the day” package.
My planning binder included a long section on how legally this isn’t prostitution, and there’s no promise of sex, but I mean… everyone knows what they’re getting.
While the majority of the dates are to take place a few days later on Valentine’s Day, some are for immediate play in the club that night, which should make the bidding even more exciting.
My binder indicated that the last woman up has specific interests in exhibitionism and group activities, so I have a suspicion her auction will end things with a bang.
In any case, members of my team will be on-site with a selection of pieces for purchase.
We’ll also have demonstrations of our tailoring process and answers for anyone who has inquiries about custom work.
Hopefully, the staging will show off our lingerie to a large group of prospective buyers, and we can gain a foothold in the kink community.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I take in the final staging for the auction at Rendezvous Too.
With minor notes, everything will be ready and as I envisioned.
It’s hard being right all the time and making everything perfect, but someone has to do it.
Not you when you’re with your masked man.
Ugh, now is really not the time for these thoughts, especially when I see Jack making his way toward me.
I give myself a little shake to clear my head.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carter. I’m pleased to see that you and your staff have been able to complete the staging to my specifications.
I have a few minor notes for Aaron, but otherwise, I think I’ll be signing off on it.
Everything’s ready for you and your patrons to have a seamlessly romantic evening,” I say, to the point.
I’m ready to get home, get to Pilates, and maybe take my trusty vibe to the bathtub to think about more recent encounters.
“Are you okay?” Jack asks, head tilted to one side and a smirk on his lips.
“What do you mean, am I okay? Do I not look okay?” I look down at my outfit. Maybe the V neck of my blazer is a little more daring than usual, and maybe I’m wearing a partially sheer bustier underneath instead of an actual top. I’ve felt a little sexier this week, what can I say?
“No, no, you look fantastic. Absolutely lethal, I would say.” Jack’s smirk grows wider as he sees my blush bloom and travel down my neck. “You just seem different. Looser. Almost as if…” He trails off, and I already dread what’s about to come out of his mouth.
“You’ve been getting some especially good dick,” he finishes, and I’m not sure how I even want to play this. I can act indignant and tell him it’s none of his goddamn business. Or I can be honest, and he can be as jealous as he was when he thought I was fucking Marco.
Cocking my head, I allow myself the tiniest of smiles and decide to just be honest. “You’re right, Mr. Carter. That’s exactly what it is. Truly exceptional dick.”
Moving past him, I sense amusement but not jealousy. Good. Maybe he’s finally understanding that my personal life has nothing to do with him anymore and moving on. Marco stands by the door with my coat, bag, and gloves, and continues to look over my shoulder as he hands over my items one by one.
“What’s caught your attention?” I ask, hoping he’s not noticing another aspect of the staging that isn’t perfect. Following his gaze, I see him eyeing Jack like a lion salivating over an injured gazelle.
“You grew up with him, right? Has he always been so hot? I didn’t really notice before, but something about the giant lumberjack look he’s sporting today is really doing it for me,” he says, finally giving me a wink.
He’s not wrong. Jack was apparently helping with some carpentry work for one of the playrooms on the second floor of the club earlier today, so he’s wearing worn jeans, work boots, and a dark green shirt. It’s much more rugged than his norm, and he looks good.
“He was not always so hot. He actually went through quite the gangly phase before his muscles caught up to his height,” I say, finally relaxing into the car and taking a sip of the coffee my driver handed me.
“Well, he’s hot now. And I’ll tell you one thing, Margot, that I’ve learned from years of experience,” he sighs.
“What’s that?”
“A man only walks like that if he’s slinging a big. Ole. Dick.”
I choke on my coffee as Marco cackles, and we drive off into the evening.