1. Chapter 1
A licia Colbert had worked her share of strange jobs. Nothing, however, compared to her first night working as a hostess at a sex club.
No, not that kind of hostess. Her trainer, Susan, made it clear that Alicia was not there to do more than minimal flirting with guests while she showed them to VIP rooms and relegated the other spaces.
Her job was simple: greet the guests after they emerged from the coat check, find out their seating preferences or if they’d rather be left alone, and see them to a secluded space if that’s what they required.
When she wasn’t doing this, she was making sure everyone was comfortable and getting the service they expected.
(No, not that kind of service.) Were the drinks to their liking?
Did they need a private room? Did guests know that reservations could be made in advance? Alicia would take care of it.
Alicia had been told these no fewer than ten times since she walked in for her first shift.
The contract and massive NDA she signed two days ago also made sure to mention this a million times.
There was little tolerated at Midnight. Stealing was obviously out of the question.
Being rude to guests? Kiss your job goodbye .
Another great way to make sure one did not work in this circle ever again? Sleep with a guest.
Flirting was to be expected. After all, guests came in hoping for a dreamy, good time. A standoffish or robotic hostess did not set a good impression. What Alicia would learn, Susan assured, was how to strike a good balance between flirting and professionalism.
“If any guest makes you feel unsafe at any time,” Susan said, gesturing to a bright white button on the ring of keys issued to every hostess, “Hit this button. Security will find you.”
Alicia tried not to think about that. I’ve worked my fair share of lounges . Each one more exclusive and high-end than the last. Someone always got handsy. She could only imagine what a mess working at Midnight could be.
She hadn’t even heard of this place until her roommate, Candice, who also worked in the nighttime entertainment industry, mentioned that the biggest gig in town was looking for a new hostess.
Alicia didn’t think twice about putting in an application as soon as Candice told her who to email.
Seemed odd that they had asked for a picture – was that even legal? – but…
When Alicia studied the servers, bartenders, coat checkers, performers, and the other hostesses who came in for a meeting, she realized they all had something in common.
They were beautiful.
Different shades of beautiful, of course. Susan was shorter and a bit curvier than most of the other women there, but she was gorgeous. Fluffy auburn hair. Perfect skin and a symmetrical face. Breasts bigger than Alicia’s head.
No surprise. Alicia had often been told that she was conventionally attractive.
All the good it did the lanky blonde who tripped over her own broad feet and stuffed her bra so she could compete with all the D cups in the house.
Her mother may have bemoaned Alicia’s ability to eat and stay thin, but her doctor often hounded her to gain weight.
There was no winning. Especially when she compared herself to the perfect beauties busting ass in Midnight, each one representing some fantasy for the largely male clientele that came in.
Tall women. Short women. Curvy women. Skinny women.
Blondes, brunettes, redheads, girls with bright blue hair.
Most of the women left after the staff meeting since it was supposed to be a slow Thursday night, but Alicia was awestruck, nonetheless.
I must be replacing the last all-limbs blonde .
She noticed there wasn’t anyone else there who looked like her.
“Remember,” Susan said at the end of the run-through, “we do not mention guests by name, not even to each other, unless it is a dire situation. Their privacy and safety are the two most important things we protect. Do not say that Mr. Smith is in Section 6. Simply say it is Section 6. Never get into the habit of calling them by name. Unless they ask you to, of course.”
Alicia finished writing in her notepad and flipped it shut.
It would be her Bible for the next few weeks as she got used to this job.
“Anything else I should know?” The doors would be opening in twenty minutes.
After that, there would be nothing but on-the-job training as Alicia shadowed Susan for the whole night.
The trainer narrowed her eyes into serious slits.
“I know you have experience in hosting in lounges and clubs, Ms. Colbert, but do not think it means you have seen everything. You’ve seen nothing until you have worked here for a few weeks.
Tonight alone you’ll probably see things you didn’t even know were possible. ”
Alicia swallowed. “I’m prepared.” She had been prepared for the unexpected ever since she was shown the ins and outs of the private rooms. The ones stocked with bondage gear and plastic sheets.
One of Alicia’s many jobs was cleaning those rooms up if she had a spare moment. With gloves and a mask, I hope.
Midnight was a sex club for the insanely rich and sometimes famous.
Millionaires played there. Billionaires ruled.
Important men brought potential investments here for an after-dinner wind-down.
Sometimes, their wives came too. A conversation with one of the performers – a dominatrix, to be sure – initiated Alicia into the idea of vibrators and anal beads live on stage.
There would be half-naked women wearing collars and completely naked men trotted about by dominants of all gender flavors.
The dress code was the strictest around…
unless you were in your underwear. Then all bets were off.
The front area did not allow sex, but in the back lounge, it would not be uncommon to see oral delights and even full-blown intercourse occurring between exhibitionists. Alicia would be expected to do her job as if she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
She thought she was prepared. She had nearly ten years of hosting experience to fall back on.
Every place was different with its quirks and procedures, but they weren’t that different.
There wasn’t even that much difference between blue-collar guests and the billionaires.
Okay, one smells better than the other. They were both as likely to be entitled dipshits, though.
Alicia thought she was prepared.
The doors opened at seven. Within fifteen minutes, there were four parties already settling in for drinks and hanky-panky.
Alicia didn’t deal with the check-in procedure every member and their guests went through, but she shadowed Susan as she sweetly greeted and brought them to their seats for the evening.
Some reached into their expensive pockets and pulled out stacks of hundreds so Susan would show them a better area, or even a VIP room.
Alicia knew that Susan was not supposed to pocket more than twenty percent for herself, but she had to wonder what really went on when someone wasn’t watching.
The money was the biggest draw to this job.
At twenty-eight, Alicia still had way too many student loans and, yes, credit card debt.
She wasn’t about to be thrown on the street, but money was tight from month to month.
Her last job paid $13 an hour plus tips, and it was far from enough.
Midnight started her at $25 an hour! After careful calculation, including tax withholdings, Alicia figured she could make $150 a night working at Midnight.
That didn’t include the tips. Susan pocketed about $50 in tips for herself. From one table!
I don’t care what I have to see or deal with on this job. I’ll make serious bank!
Oh, she saw some stuff, all right. Within an hour, Alicia’s first game of grab-ass and a woman being led around by crystal nipple clamps appeared.
Luckily, Alicia was so busy learning her job that she couldn’t be bothered by any of it.
The guests smelled good, drank priceless drinks, and spoke Romantic languages off the cuff, but they weren’t that much different from what Alicia was used to.
So what if they dropped a hundred bucks on a single shot of liquor?
So what if they ordered these drinks while a beautiful young woman was face-first in their laps?
So what if they pulled Susan aside and asked for a private room, which the experienced hostess gave to them without another word?
The only thing off about that was hearing moaning and screams of pleasure whenever Alicia walked up and down that particular hallway.
All the regulars wanted to meet her. Who was she?
When did she start? What was her name? How old was she?
She didn’t look a day over twenty-five! That’s good?
I’m only twenty-eight? One loud woman wearing a Chanel dress yanked on Alicia’s hair to “test her roots.” After Susan calmly diffused the drunken situation, the female guest cried out, “That’s no bottle on her head, boys!
Crispin, you’ll love this one. She’s a real blonde! ”
Crispin was about fifty-five. Alicia couldn’t say she was tempted to fraternize with him, even if he was worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
She didn’t need money that badly.
Were there escorts working the club that night?
Absolutely. Susan confessed that some were actually endorsed by the club – the women paid a flat rate to appear for the night and bag themselves a rich client for the evening.
Alicia saw this happen more than once. Some single woman wearing a simple designer dress would sashay up to some lonely man, whisper in his ear, get a drink, and either be whisked out of the club or into one of the private rooms. Sometimes, money slipped between hands.