Chapter 3 Pleasure Rooms #2
When I first saw this gorgeous old Mumbai home, I wished for enough money to own a place like this.
Then I realised maintenance would probably cost me even more and I like my flat just fine.
The DeMellos reached out to Bold Lines a year ago to renovate their entire home.
I was in the middle of building a sex dungeon for an actor in Chennai and didn’t think I’d be able to take on another job at the time.
But Aishani Kumar, founder, CEO and my personal hero, insisted I be part of the team that worked on the colonial house.
Initially I thought it was thanks to my experience with restoring old homes.
After my first visit, I discovered it was on account of my pleasure room knowledge.
Mrs. DeMello stops in the dining room where I meet her husband and Pavan, my counterpart from Bold Lines.
While I have full control over the enormous sex room, he’s doing most of the main house work.
When we signed the contract to work with them, he asked if I’d help with the kitchen and primary bedroom.
I should have turned him down because of how much work is already on my plate, but Pavan and I have been flirting and hinting at something more for a few weeks.
By working closely with him, maybe something will come of it.
Nothing can happen if I’m still throwing up in barf bags I stole from the airplane.
As I follow Mrs. DeMello to the back of the house, I stop to check in with all the workers and staff.
While Bold Lines employs architects and interior designers, we also work closely with the same contractors and workers.
It allows for smoother progress and the familiarity helps us perform faster.
I’ve worked with these folks since my first solo house assignment and have learned their names and familial details.
I make it a point to ask about kids and spouses in my broken Hindi-Tamil-Malayalam combination.
Then I step into the room. Mrs. DeMello is a proper Mumbai socialite and will never call it a sex room. She’s the one who introduced me to the Pleasure Room term. I’ve been tempted to put it on my business card, but reprinting the set sounds like way too much work.
“All of our permissions are in place for this room, so now it’s in your hands. I gave you Henry’s and my requirements, right?”
“Yes. I’m waiting on a few suppliers to get back to me before we confirm any orders.”
“That’s fine. We’re still looking at a few parties a month, but nothing too elaborate.” She offers me a playful smile and adds, “Your suggestion to soundproof is a good one. Don’t want to scandalise our staff with what goes on here.”
“We’ll tint the windows so you can see out, but they can’t see in from the garden. The tinting will also prevent the heat and sun, just not the light.”
“Yes, of course. We don’t want it to be a dark room.” I nod and she squeezes my arm. “Thank you, Miss Chandy. I’ll leave you to it. Please let me know if you need anything.”
She leaves and I exhale loudly as I look around.
It stretches the length of the house and one wall is entirely windows.
Tucked away into the back, it gives them the privacy they need, but doesn’t take away from the excitement that comes with having a sex room.
At the top of my list is soundproofing, adding a false ceiling for the wiring and hooks to be hidden away and of course, the window tinting.
Most of the other things are facade items like painting, lighting fixtures and carpeting.
Part of my job in building sex rooms is to understand the purpose.
When I did my first one, I was flying by the seat of my pants.
There was no planning or real thought that went into it.
The client and I fumbled our way through it, but we made it work.
Since then, I put together a questionnaire to understand requirements and needs, to fully immerse myself in their world of kink. It’s been absolutely fascinating.
The DeMellos, for example, are part of a swingers club made up of the rich and famous in Mumbai.
The group has been experimenting with BDSM and wants to explore it further.
One of their friends has a basic room that allows for the swingers part of their agenda, but with them renovating this house, they want to make this a safe space.
So we laid out a plan for everything to be done, including secret entrances, a special kitchen to service the room and what kind of equipment they’d need.
We settled on the regular bondage items, a couple of benches, a few beds and maybe even a St. Andrew’s Cross.
A lot of these things are unfortunately not available for purchase through retail stores in India.
Thanks to my network of speciality partners, I have a guy who can make whatever tickles a person’s sexual desires.
After a slow walk through, measuring the windows and carpet area, I pack up my things and walk out to where Pavan’s waiting for me.
I smile when our eyes meet, but my stomach chooses that moment to twist like her life depends on it and I bend over to vomit.
Biju’s at my side as I straighten up with a wince.
Pavan’s vanished out of sight and laugh to myself.
Must not like girls who projectile vomit at the sight of their pretty smiles.
“You’re working too hard,” Biju reprimands as he helps me into the car. He hands me another bottle of cold water and then slips behind the wheel. “Hotel?”
“Hotel.” I smile sadly, terrified to drink the water, and pull out my phone instead.
Me
Pretty sure my body is attempting to do some version of The Exorcist right now.
Vera
Head turning 360 or projectile barfing?
Barfing. I forgot about the head turning thing
Vera
You refused to watch that part. You were fine with the puke, which is concerning now that I think about it.
Food poisoning?
Doubt it. The exhaustion and dizziness are new. Could be my IBS choosing to use the front door this time
Vera
Gross. Maybe see a doctor while you’re there
I’d rather wait until I get home.
Vera
It’s almost like you don’t want to get better.
Ugh. Don’t be the logical one right now. Don’t need it.
Vera
Obviously someone needs to be that person.
Drink soup for dinner. No wine. No chocolate. Nothing that brings you joy
What brings me joy right now is ignoring you.
Bye bitch!
I put my phone away, huffing and puffing as it continues to vibrate. She’s right, I do need to avoid what brings me joy and probably see a doctor. Blergh.