Chapter 11 Luke
Luke
“Bourbon, boss?”
I’m leaning against the bar in my usual spot at Salt, scanning tonight’s crowd when my bartender, Pawel, offers me a drink. I nod and a few moments later, he slides a cold glass my way, ice cubes clinking.
“Thanks Pawel. It’s busy tonight,” I observe, looking around.
A show’s just begun and the bar is momentarily quiet while people settle in their seats to watch Gloria.
Gloria’s one of our regular performers – she does an aerial silks routine that ends with her naked, suspended in mid-air. It’s a massive crowd pleaser.
“Sure is. Jessie said she’s never had so many bookings for the playrooms. The cleanup crew are going to need a pay rise,” he grins.
I return his smile. Jessie runs an incredibly tight ship and our hygiene team are practically SWAT-level operatives.
They can turn over a playroom in about 12 minutes flat and the next client would never have a scrap of evidence that the room had been occupied beforehand.
They’d make a killing doing crime scene cleanup but thankfully they’re paid handsomely for both their skill and their discretion at Salt.
I sip my drink and watch Gloria for a moment. She’s incredibly lithe and the way she shimmies up the suspended silks is the perfect blend of athletic skill and erotic expression. She executes a perfect tumble, the silks catching her by the ankle, as the crowd gasps in unison.
“Evening, Luke,” says a voice beside me. Lazlo, a broker I met a few times in the City, comes to stand next to me at the bar. He’s straightening out his shirt and reattaching his cufflinks so I assume he’s fresh from the playrooms.
“Lazlo,” I reply, giving him a nod. I can’t bear this guy. He’s smug and arrogant like the worst of the City, with a tendency to flash his cash. I haven’t got any grounds to bar him from membership here but I’m never happy to run into him. He’s a snake.
“Gloria’s looking rather good tonight. You’ve had her before, right?
” He elbows me as if we are friends and I do my best not to flinch in revulsion.
He’s right – Gloria and I have played together in the past – but there is no way in hell I’m confirming that with him.
I lean back on the bar and put half a step’s distance between us.
“Gloria’s an exceptional artist,” I reply and he rolls his eyes.
“Sure, but is she exceptional on her knees?” He leans in. He smells of sex and strong spirits. We’ve got a two-drink maximum here but it doesn’t stop people from knocking back a few before they arrive.
“Lazlo, do you need to be reminded of our code of conduct?” I say lightly, keeping my eyes on the stage. “Respect and consent, or your membership is revoked. Goodnight.”
I stride towards my office without a backward glance.
An hour later, there’s a knock at my door. I climb off my Peloton, positively soaked in sweat. My little chat with Lazlo set my blood boiling and I knew I had to work it off before I went home. A hard ride is usually an effective stress reliever for me but I’m still on edge as I look to the door.
“Come in,” I call, as I towel off my neck and forehead. Gloria’s head appears round the door and she slides in.
“Good workout?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.
“Great, thanks.” I reply. “Another cracking show from what I hear? I caught the opening few minutes. Sensational, as always, Gloria.”
She gives me a warm smile. “I came up to see if you fancied catching up. Downstairs. In our usual room.” She gives me a flirtatious look and bites her lip.
Gloria’s stunning. Her long black hair is artfully woven off her face and her full mouth is sensual without even trying. She’s got one of those shapes that’s all narrow waist and generous hips, honed with gentle definition from her aerial training.
Our scenes in the past have been powerful but I already know the answer I’m going to give her.
“Not tonight, I’m afraid. But thank you.”
She gives me a look and quirks an eyebrow again.
“Seeing someone, Luke?” she asks, cocking her head.
“No,” I reply. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve got that look on your face. The kind that says you’ve got someone – a woman, I think? – on your mind.” She gives me a sudden smirk. “I knew it! You do have a woman!”
“I do not!” I reply, a little firmer than I mean to.
She laughs softly. “Sure. Ok. I believe you.” She gives me a big wink. “Be seeing you, then, Mr Pullman.”
“Night, Gloria,” I reply, as she throws one last knowing grin my way and sashays out of the office.
I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. Some nights I can keep the mask in place. Tonight, it feels paper-thin. I need to snap out of this. I step into the bathroom and crank on the shower, leaning my forehead against the cool tiles in an effort to come to my senses.
But Emmy’s face from the other night comes to my mind. The way her expression shifted when I told her I’d been in her shoes. The steady eye contact. The brush of her fingers against my sleeve—
My traitorous cock perks up and I blow out a frustrated breath. I need to stop thinking about her.
I step under the water and rinse off, cranking the temperature down just before I get out. The jolt hits like an electric shock, and my erection disappears in two seconds flat.
As I towel off, I make a decision. I just need to get back into the rhythm of the club. There’s no shortage of company at Salt. That’s always been the cure: keep moving, keep busy, don’t let the cracks show.
Tomorrow night, I’ll find someone new to scratch the itch – and force Emmy the hell out of my head.