Chapter 3
Quaid~
The Fantasy Factory really did feel like a godsend some days, and the opposing voices just needed to experience the club for themselves to see that it wasn’t the debauchery of sin that they claimed.
About two years ago, the only club of its kind in Portal Lands, the doors to The Fantasy Factory had opened, and like most single guys in the city, I’d been coming here ever since.
Though the first floor was laid out like a regular nightclub, it also had two party rooms for any occasion.
The rooms were also aptly named The Bachelor Pad and Ladies’ Night, and they could be reserved for whatever you wanted, and you didn’t have to be VIP to rent the rooms, either.
However, it was the second floor that set The Fantasy Factory apart from the rest of the clubs that were scattered throughout the city.
Though not identified as so on their website, The Fantasy Factory was a sex club, and the second floor was comprised of four different kink rooms, and you could either watch or reserve a participation room.
Once up there, you could choose from voyeurism, BDSM, degradation, or multiple-partners, and it was said that the owner of the club took the safety of every engaging patron very seriously, though the vibe catered mostly to women.
At any rate, even if you weren’t looking to spice up your sex life, the club was still a good place to get laid without any of the headaches afterwards.
There were no expectations when you walked through the club’s front doors, and there were certainly no obligations to anyone.
Honestly, it was the perfect place to come to if you were having a bad day, long week, or just needed a damn beer.
So, after having a very long fucking week, I was here to drink and meet up with someone for the night, even if it required me to have to reserve a participation room.
Now, the unique thing about The Fantasy Factory was that there was never a shortage of people wanting to satisfy their kinks, and so people could be easily be paired up if you were looking for a partner to help out with a scene.
However, there was also nothing stopping you from leaving the club together, either.
However, all thoughts of participation rooms and random hookups fled my brain the second that I saw Zia DeLéon walking through the doors of the club, and I wasn’t the only one to notice the stunning blonde walking towards the bar.
Now, not to take away from women in general, there was just something about a woman with exotic features that got my dick hard.
Zia was about five-foot-three with an hourglass figure that had the potential to stop traffic, and though she had that common blonde hair/blue eye combination, she was a blonde-haired/blue-eyed Spaniard, which made all the difference.
Zia DeLéon might be in her mid-twenties, but she carried herself like a mature woman that oozed sex and knew it.
Of course, I knew that she was nothing but a spoiled brat beneath that useless piece of black fabric that she probably called a dress, but that still didn’t take away from the fact that her beautiful face and incredible body made up a pretty spectacular package.
I watched as she found a seat at the bar, which she should be thankful for since it was already rather packed for a Friday night, and because all of the bartenders at the club were at the top of their game, she received a drink almost immediately.
Now, as I observed her from across the bar, it was hard not to wonder what she was doing here.
Sure, she could be here for a few drinks, to meet up with friends, or she might even have a date, but she wasn’t dressed for just a casual night out.
If it wasn’t enough that her dress was a tight slip of nothingness, her blonde hair was pinned high on her head, the random whisps giving her a very sophisticated look about her.
She was also wearing a pair of black fuck-me heels, and so Zia was here to be seen; I was sure of it.
It also made sense, if you thought about it long enough.
Having been in the woman’s company, it was obvious that she craved attention, and what better place to feed her need than a place like this?
In fact, I could see the multiple-partner room being her go-to room.
Someone like her would probably love to have multiple men catering to her every whim and all at once.
Not interested in women almost half my age or spoiled to boot, I was about to just ignore that she was here, but when her eyes caught mine, I wasn’t about to act like I hadn’t seen her.
After all, no matter my opinion of the woman, her father was a valued client, and he really did seem like a decent man, even if a little too soft around the edges.
So, tipping my head her way, I raised my beer in acknowledgement, and Zia was polite enough to return the gesture, even though I was pretty sure that she couldn’t care less about my salutations. Honestly, I couldn’t see her caring about anything that didn’t benefit her directly.
However, I was thoroughly surprised when I watched her grab her drink off the coaster, hop off the barstool, then start making her way over to where I was sitting. Of course, she could just want some social company, but I doubted it.
“Mr. Crawford, what a coincidence,” she said as soon as she was standing in front of me.
“Ms. DeLéon,” I greeted back as I stood from my chair. No matter what I thought of the woman, my mother had raised me to possess all kinds of manners. “Please, take my seat.”
Her blue eyes widened as she quickly shook her head. “Oh, no...please...I’m fine standing.”
“I insist,” I told her. “It would not be right to keep you standing.”
She arched a brow, a hint of a Spanish accent peeking through. “But I’m the one who walked over here, Mr. Crawford.”
“Sit, Ms. DeLéon,” I ordered, and to my surprise, she obeyed.
“Happy?”
Ignoring that, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” she countered.
Since I had nothing invested here, I saw no reason why I shouldn’t stick to the truth. “I’m here for no complications.”
Zia arched a brow. “How boring.”
“I’m not a fan of drama,” I told her, making my preferences clear.
The woman let out a condescending laugh. “You’re lying.”
My head leaned back a bit. “And what makes you say that?”
Her blue eyes were bright as she said, “Because a man that doesn’t like to have drama in his life doesn’t choose litigation as his profession.” She leaned closer to me as she added, “You’d get bored in a second if you had a woman that kept her head bowed and her opinions to herself.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I pointed out
“I know enough,” she countered before leaning back, putting some space between us.
“And what about you?” I asked. “My guess is that you’re here because you didn’t get your way with your daddy, and that ego of yours needs some soothing.”
“If you’re suggesting that I have daddy issues, then you’re right,” she replied candidly, surprising the fuck out of me. “If you’re suggesting that I’m here for therapeutic reasons, you’d also be right. However, if you think for one moment that I’m embarrassed by either, you’re wrong.”
Yeah, Zia DeLéon was a lot more than she let on.
“And which room or rooms help you with that?” I asked against my better judgement. “I’m guessing rooms three and four since you like to be the center of attention.”
Without even an ounce of embarrassment, she said, “Room four.”
“You like putting on a show?”
“I like being watched,” she quickly replied.
“What’s the difference?”
“If the man that I’m with knows what he’s doing, then I’ll be too consumed with pleasure to have the presence of mind to put on a show,” she answered coolly.
She’s only twenty-five.
Ignoring the warning bells, I asked, “So, if you’re here for something so specific, what do you look for in a partner?”
Leaning closer again, she said, “I like my men older, Mr. Crawford. I like them older, experienced, and they better be comfortable with me calling them Daddy when I cum.”
Though my dick was quickly rising to the challenge, I said, “Sounds like you need to see a professional for that.”
Instead of getting offended, Zia let out a husky laugh. “Don’t I know it. However, for now, this will do.”
Putting the final nail in my coffin, I asked, “How much older, Zia?”
Like the female praying mantis that she was, she said, “Old enough to know better, but reckless enough not to care. One that enjoys complications, because I’m as about as complicated as you can get.”
“So, you expect a phone call the next morning?” I asked, seriously needing to adjust my pants.
Zia immediately shook her head. “No. I just want the man left wondering what in the hell just happened.”
Well, fuck me running.