Chapter 33 Cal
Cal
All this is a roundabout way of saying that she and I have yet to fuck, that we have not yet conceived of a concrete plan of action for when and how to fuck, and that, despite my best efforts at guarding Aida’s privacy from even my team, everyone in this room knows we haven’t yet fucked.
Gen, bless her, tries to find the most discreet way to raise the issue. ‘Do you guys have a date yet for the next, um, instalment?’
We glance at each other from our places side by side on the sofa. ‘Probably next week,’ Aida says. ‘I have the PM on Centre Stage this week, so I’m pretty jammed till Wednesday.’
She has our Prime Minister lined up for the hot seat, and all I’ve got lined up on Wednesday is my after-work battle ropes session with Rafe.
Jesus fuck.
‘Not sure you can compete with the PM,’ Rafe quips in my direction.
‘Ha fucking ha,’ I say.
‘Unless I come in Thursday?’ Aida suggests. ‘I could probably use some relaxation after wringing him dry over why the fuck he doesn’t fire his fascist Home Secretary.’
‘No can do,’ Gen points out. ‘It’s the party on Thursday night—the whole place will be chaos that day.’
‘What party?’ Aida asks.
‘One of our semi-annual themed nights,’ I tell her. ‘It’s the Masked Ball. It’s a lot of fun, but the ballgowns are a lot less obligatory than the masks, if you catch my drift.’
It’s actually up there with Slave Night as one of my favourite events. There’s something about those lavish masks that makes our members even more feral than usual. They lower inhibitions and ratchet the debauchery right up.
Aida shrugs. ‘That sounds fun. I could… come along?’
It does not sound like fun. It sounds like a bloody nightmare. The place will be heaving. I’ll be in Events Manager mode while also being in a constant state of arousal. This is precisely the kind of event where I unleash my inner beast and allow him to play.
I’d mount that woman so fast and so hard she wouldn’t know what had hit her.
There’d be no warming her up.
No aftercare.
To say one of our most popular themed nights would be a baptism of fire for a woman who’s just come out of a monogamous relationship is like saying I like women. The understatement of the fucking century.
‘Not a good idea,’ I tell her with a quick shake of my head. ‘Let’s do it the following week.’
She twiddles her pen between her fingers so it drums a steady beat against her notepad. The interviewer with a nose for the barest hint of a redirect. ‘And why not?’
‘Because it’s a fuck-fest. It’s basically one giant orgy, and no offence, but you’d be way out of your depth.’
She cocks her head. ‘Is that so? What if the reporter in me wants to see the club in full swing?’
‘You can see the club in full swing anytime you want,’ I tell her. ‘Just say the word. But if you’re suggesting we should be… together that evening, then I promise you, that’s a terrible idea.’
‘It really is an amazing evening, though,’ Maddy chips in unhelpfully. ‘The masks are sooo gorgeous. And no one’s allowed to take them off in the main Playroom, so it’s really hot. You should definitely come and see it—I for one think it’d be a great first experience at the club.’
‘I agree with Mads,’ Gen says before I can reiterate my utter opposition to this crazy idea. ‘It really is spectacular—like a carnal Cirque de Soleil, if you like. We have amazing performers, too. It always feels quite magical.’
‘Could we film the performances?’ Aida asks.
‘Possibly,’ Gen muses at the same time as I say, ‘Categorically not.’
‘We might be able to get a small crew in before the doors open to everyone else,’ Rafe suggests. ‘Presumably you only need some brief footage to set the scene.’
‘Exactly,’ Aida says. She shifts on the sofa and turns her body towards me, her hand going to rest on my forearm. ‘Think of it with a producer’s hat on, Cal. If it really is this carnal circus, like Gen says, then what a perfect way to introduce Alchemy in full swing.
‘And if it’s a daunting atmosphere, then all the better. It’ll seriously amp up the tension for the audience if they feel like I’m being let loose at a total meat market. They’ll feel like I’m the gladiator and they’re the crowd, baying for my blood.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ I say, feeling the blood drain from my face.
‘That all sounds a bit extreme. I can’t protect you properly in that scenario.
’ I lower my voice so the entire room isn’t privy to my plans for our first proper fuck.
‘I want this to be relaxing for you, you know? I want us to be able to take it slow if you need that.’
‘You’re so sweet,’ she says, and I could swear I see amusement in those dark, expressive eyes, ‘but we did relaxation already. And it was wonderful. You’re right, obviously.
It sounds like a lot, but I can’t turn down the chance for that sense of theatre.
Put it this way: it’ll make for far better television than me “popping in” for a cosy mid-morning fuck.
It’ll probably be far sexier, too. And you and I both know it. ’