Chapter 9 The Vesper Room
The Vesper Room
BAZ
My car approached the address Lanie listed—a very posh Mayfair house.
As I took in its scale, I suspected daddy had money and she lived with her family.
That was fine. Almost every aristocrat I knew still lived under mummy and daddy’s roof—myself excluded.
I paid for my current place with my own money.
I stepped out, taking in the cool autumn air and walked upstairs to the door. I rang the bell and waited awkwardly.
A young woman answered—but it wasn’t Lanie.
“Hello, I’m here for Miss Day,” I said.
The pretty blonde looked me over before shouting. “Lanie, Daddy Vibes is here!”
I fought anger and embarrassment as the woman stepped back and crossed her arms. She sized me up. Daddy vibes? I wasn’t that old. Then, again, what was she? Twenty-five. I was almost old enough to be her father. Another girl—a blonde with glasses popped into the picture.
“Who are you?”
“Baz,” I said. “I’m taking your sister out.”
I assumed and she didn’t dispute it.
“At this hour?” The girl asked. “Lanie, he should at least buy you dinner first. Jesus!”
The other blonde snickered as Lanie walked into the picture, looking beautiful in a short dress. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders in curls I wanted to touch. Before I could even comment on the outfit, she stopped.
“Oh, I forgot my jewelry.”
“Can I get it?” The first blonde asked.
“No, I’m good. One sec.” Lanie departed, leaving a conversational vacuum where no one knew what to say. The two blondes appraised me suspiciously. They had no inkling of my plans and that was for the best. I was worried even Lanie might blanch when I told her.
Lanie returned with a pair of earrings and held out the necklace I bought her. “I planned my entire outfit around this and just forgot.”
The younger girl stepped forward to help, but I spoke up.
“I can do it.”
Lanie spun towards me, one eyebrow lifted.
“Well, I bought it for you, so shouldn’t I be the one?” I asked.
“Fine,” Lanie approached and handed the necklace over.
Lanie spun, holding up her beautiful red hair so I could drape the necklace around her delicate neck—the one I wanted to kiss desperately.
I clasped it, satisfied she was now marked.
She was mine in a way she hadn’t been before.
I tried not to gawk, keenly aware of the women watching.
The older one seemed entertained, while the younger one’s judgmental scowl shook me slightly.
Lanie turned, looking at me, mouth slightly agape. “Well, I guess I’m ready now.”
She stepped into her shoes, tossing her hair over her shoulder and pulled on a light coat to shield her from the cool air.
“Don’t wait up and fuck off, Dora!”
She pulled the door closed.
“Were those your sisters?” I asked.
“Depends on why you are asking. If you’re going to make some sick joke—”
“No. I found them… very American,” I noted.
“As American as apple pie,” Lanie said in a silly accent. “You could say that. And Dora is right. You should buy me dinner first.”
She slid into the open car door and settled. I followed her, the door closing behind me.
“I am taking you somewhere unique and the party starts late,” I said. “It’s only 10.”
“Only? You’re taking me on a date. You called it a proper date.”
“Doesn’t mean dinner. Now that I sense your hostility, I will make note I owe you dinner. Do I ever not owe you, darling?” I asked.
“No. Because you lust for me, you get a high from being around me, and you’d do anything to impress me. I am very demanding—as you previously stated. I like to be spoiled. So, I will keep asking for things and, I suspect, you will keep giving them.”
I missed that wit ever since she left with Caleb.
Since then, Caleb left town and was likely hooking up with another woman in Paris.
I was glad to have Lanie Day alone. She was still fucking gorgeous.
There was something hauntingly familiar about her face—especially those full lips—but I couldn’t put my finger on what.
“You always examine me,” Lanie said.
“You’re beautiful. I enjoy it,” I said. “Now, are you ready for something unique? And are you brave?”
“I’m not eating squid. I don’t eat things that freak me out. Squid is one of them. I don’t care how uncultured that makes me.”
“We aren’t eating. Are you really that hungry?”
“I will be in approximately 2 hours if I also drink.”
“There will be drink,” I promised. “And if you’re a very good girl, I will give you your choice of literally all kebab offerings on the way home.”
“You think you’re taking me home?” She raised her eyebrows.
“I know I’m taking you home, Lanie.”
“We’ll see. Where are you taking me?”
“The Vesper Room,” I said.
She did a double take. “I… oh… I don’t think I belong at a place like that.”
“A place like that? I’m a member, for one.”
Her mouth dropped.
“You are a babe in the woods, but I am not, darling. Is it too much for you? If so, that’s fine. We can get a drink—”
“No,” Lanie said, determined. “I am… open-minded. I just worry that my agent might kill me. Our show got renewed and I’m going to have a big part next year.”
“It’s very hush-hush. And anyway, if they fire you, it’s silly. Your boss has been a member, too. I shouldn’t tell you that, of course.”
“Leah goes to the Vesper Room?”
“I haven’t seen her for a bit. I don’t think she’d bat an eye. It’s… very interesting.”
“Holy shit,” Lanie gasped. “Well, good for her, I guess? I suppose if the Queen’s niece can make it work, I can.”
“Correct. We can leave whenever you want. I’m not bothered. However, I got the feeling you might want to play. And if you do, we have options.”
Lanie leaned over, her face close enough to kiss me.
She tilted her head and whispered. “I’m game to play, but I come to win, Baz.”
Then, she backed off, not kissing me and not touching me. If she didn’t let me have her, I’d be miserable, but on the off chance she let me fuck her, I’d be fine with it.
LANIE
The Vesper Room was an exclusive sex club in SoHo with a list of clients that remained secret to only its members.
There weren’t trial periods and one had to be sponsored by a current member to even be considered for membership.
I’d curiously listened to Vesper Room lore, but never thought I’d find myself there.
Walking into the concierge area, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
The lights were low, and the furnishings high-end.
The couple ahead of us was dressed to the nines—two women in contrasting Dior.
I recognized one as a supermodel—Bri Corrigan.
Baz guided me, his hand on the small of my back, and whispered, “There are rules. The first one is they will take your mobile. No phones inside and if you come without one, they don’t let you in.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” I pulled out my phone and handing it to a short, dapper man with a fabulous set of long locks.
He took my coat, locked our belongings up, and handed a keycard to Baz while making small talk, A woman opposite the desk raised an eyebrow.
“Have you brought us fresh meat, Basil?”
“This is Lanie,” Baz said. “She may be fresh, but she isn’t new to the game.”
He expressed such confidence in me. I talked big, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hang when we passed through the doors.
Baz took my hand and pulled me towards the entry.
I held on tight. My eyes got wide as dinner plates as the door attendant opened it, but what I saw wasn’t what I thought I would.
The area inside was a standard bar. People laughed, joked, and a few danced to too-loud, slightly goth techno.
“It’s just… a bar,” I noted.
“Nah. It’s more than that. You can come here just for a drink and privacy, or you can go to the fun areas. I will show you around, but you’ll want a drink first. I’ll discuss Ps and Qs in the interim.”
He stepped up to the bar and nodded at me as the bartender approached. “What do you want?”
I quickly ran down the drink menu. “The Gin martini is great.”
“I’ll have a negroni,” Baz said.
The bartender left without a word.
“The staff are so… chill,” I noted.
“Their job is to fade into the background to let things happen,” Baz said. “It’s good we got here a little early—good for you. It’s best for people watching.”
“How often do you come here?”
Baz shrugged. “Enough. Sometimes I just get bored. Believe it or not, I don’t always come here to do something too debaucherous. The bartender is good, people leave you alone, and I enjoy people watching quietly.”
“I haven’t noticed.”
“In all seriousness, Lanie, there are rules here. The first one is a man cannot approach a woman. Women approach men only. Consent can obviously be withdrawn at any point during play. You don’t have to engage directly.
You can always just watch. It legitimately doesn’t matter to me what we do, Lanie—or don’t—but you must leave with me.
It becomes a labyrinth back there. You probably want to stick near me at least for now. ”
“Okay,” I said. “Consent is key. For your reference, I like things rough. I don’t mind being treated like a bit of a ragdoll, but if I say Kiwi, we’re done-zo.”
“Kiwi?”
“Do not make fun of my favorite safeword.”
“I’m not. It’s rather ingenious. So, you’re not so precious?”
“I am not precious, Baz. Wise up.”
I sipped my drink as people arrived. If you told me that most of hedonist London was already a member of Vesper, I would have laughed.
However, on this evening, I recognized several famous faces.
Some may have recognized me. Either way, they never said anything, as admitting you knew someone belonged was mutually assured destruction.
We finished our drinks with dedicated, quiet people watching.
“I apologize if I say little,” Baz said.
“I generally find it off-putting,” I said, “but not here. I am trying to get my bearings.”
“You’re observant?”
“I must be observant, I guess? You cannot create characters without seeing how other people live.”