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Few people knew of Marie Winter’s association with the exclusive club with no front signage. She visited the place almost three years ago when she first bought the premises, and no one ever saw her again. The staff and clientele had no idea that the city’s most prominent madam owned the most unique BDSM club in the country, known as…
The Velvet Curtain
Home to those with any sexual kink that needed satisfying. A place so secretive that knowing of its existence meant you had earned a personalised invitation from the establishment, with nothing other than a designated time and the name of the street corner to be picked up by a chauffeur in a purple limousine. Membership was selective. Prerequisites of entry meant you were either rich, famous, well-respected, or powerful. VIP status was automatically granted to those with a combination of all four.
At The Velvet Curtain, unbeknownst to its clientele, their secrets always came with a hefty price.
Occasionally, Marie would slip in unannounced via the emergency exit off the back laneway, and sit in what she termed The Hub. A private and soundproof office with no windows, there was a desk, two chairs, and ten large monitors (each with six split screens) attached to one wall, showing video images from the sixty micro-CCTV cameras installed throughout the premises. No place (other than The Hub) was exempt—not even the toilet cubicles.
“Drago, fetch me Veronique,” Marie ordered as she flipped through a manila folder of screenshots taken from video footage that day to add to her collection of dirt files. One particular photo caught her attention.
Nice photo of the opposition leader being spanked. Could come in handy should he ever be voted in as prime minister.
Why?
Because knowledge equals power.
The type you cannot buy with money.
Everyone automatically assumed Drago was running the show. No one knew the truth—bar one person.
“How’s my favourite girl?” Marie asked Veronique as she strolled through the door like it was her own office. Her long, sleek legs in black fishnet stockings and stilettos showcased her red patent leather mini skirt and matching bra, and gave a clear view of her tattoo high on her left breast.
Veronique sat directly opposite Marie and undid her studded leather collar, placing it along with her cat-o'-nine-tails down on the desk. Marie didn’t need to be impressed by the woman’s supreme confidence, because she already was. Maybe even a little aroused, if she were being honest with herself. Veronique noticed her raised eyebrow as she continued to stare.
“Really? After all this time? You flatter me,” she said as she helped herself to Marie’s stash of cigarettes in a 24k gold ornamental box with an engraved MW on top, holding one up to her bright red lips. Marie leaned over the desk, flicking her own lighter, as Veronique inhaled and blew two perfectly shaped ‘o’ rings. “But I’m sure you didn’t drag me out of a session just to stroke my ego.”
Marie shot her a wry smile. Veronique was the complete package: stunningly beautiful, and highly intelligent. Her ambitious nature saw her step out of her comfort zone, giving her the edge over all the other staff; quickly working her way up to a point where she could name her price with her clients. Without her, The Velvet Curtain would have collapsed years ago. As a result, Marie let her have free rein in exchange for the occasional favour.
“There’s a client waiting in the executive suite who will require your undivided attention.”
“And you want me to give them full preferential treatment?” Veronique ignored the ashtray on the desk in front of her and tapped the cigarette, its ash dropping on the carpet.
“The best there is. Make him feel like he’s a VIP and give him a night to remember.”
Veronique knew exactly what her boss meant. “Background?”
“Word on the street is he’s now a silent partner of several illegal brothels, having invested some serious cash. He’s also a regular at the brothels and strip clubs I own, but was redirected here because of his unusual requests.” Marie handed her a recent photo. “I’m told he has some rather perverted kinks, even by your standards.”
“I do enjoy a challenge.” Veronique inspected the picture-perfect family. “Cute kids, vanilla wife. And the dedicated husband and father who leads a double life.”
“This one is a high-grade classification. Get him smashed on hooch or pinned on nose candy—I don’t care.” Marie opened her top drawer and tossed a small bag of white powder onto the desk. “Have him in a compromising situation. Whatever it takes, I need you to go all out on this one.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
“No, that’s why you’re the best. Here, put this on.”
“This is going to be fun. I may even do this for free.” Veronique handed her cigarette to Marie and planted the tiny microphone between her breasts, pushing up her bra with both hands. “How do I look?”
“Alluring. Highly fuckable.”
“Pity for you I don’t fuck bosses.” Veronique scooped up the baggie and purposely left behind the collar and cat-o'-nine-tails as a tease to Marie. Besides, she had a whole range of whips in the executive suite to choose from. Veronique rose from her seat, giving a playful wink as she left the room.
Marie leaned back in her chair, finishing Veronique’s cigarette. Yes, it’s most unfortunate you don’t fuck bosses.
***
Veronique approached her favourite playroom with evil thoughts. A double banger with Marie’s blessing, she would mercilessly cock-tease and mind-fuck this guy simultaneously beyond his wildest sexual fantasies. And by the time she was finished, he’d be a blubbering mess, incapable of begging her for an encore.
It’s game time…
She opened the door and there he was, sitting on the edge of the bed in a business shirt and pressed pants. The man of the hour…
Mr. Derek Channing.
The look on his face presented him as overeager and desperate to please his new dominatrix.
Time to change personas.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Channing. What took you so long to find me?” Her French accent excited Derek as she sat astride him, gripping his tie and tightening it until the knot dug into his Adam’s apple.
Derek swallowed hard, resisting the urge to blow his load there and then. “It took me six months busting my balls to earn an invitation. That said, if I’d known about you and this place, I would have tried harder.”
Veronique took her time undoing each button on his shirt. “Wickedly naughty things come to those who wait, mon chéri.”
“True, but I am not a patient man.” Derek looked deep into her eyes, mesmerised by her beauty. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“Perhaps in your fantasies?” Veronique lightly swiped her tongue over her teeth.
“I wish. No, you remind me of someone.”
“How so?”
“That dark grey eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner and mascara you wear, helps bring a sparkle to those piercing green eyes, which remind me of a jade stone. The tattoo on your breast… Your silky, brown shoulder-length hair…” Derek raised his hand and gently felt the long-plaited rat tail between his fingers. “But I know that is impossible.”
“Is she your ideal woman?”
“Hardly.” Derek gave a small chuckle. “Her name is Franky Doyle. Let’s just say she’s currently a… resident at Wentworth Correctional Centre.”
“Ooooo! An inmate? Such a turn on. She oozes sex appeal, oui?”
“I’d do her in a heartbeat, except I’m not her type.”
“She likes women?” Veronique glided her fingers through his chest hair. “I like women, too.”
“Yes, but she’s not the one sitting in my lap, about to give me what I want, is she?”
“Her loss, my gain. So, Derek, have you been a bad boy today?”
“Not just today, but every Goddamn day.” Channing licked his lips. “Maybe you can be the governor and I can be your prisoner.”
“It sounds like you need to be punished.” Veronique stood above him, removing the little baggie out from under her skirt, holding it up for him to see. “Tell me what you want me to do…”
***
“Did you get what you needed?” Veronique asked Marie as she entered the office. She reverted to her regular voice, dropping the accent.
Marie held up a selection of photos she had just printed. “Excellent work. Do you still think what you did is worth doing for free?”
Veronique gave a hearty laugh. “I did say may. But after what Mr. Golden Showers had me do, I’m demanding quadruple the usual fee.”
“I thought so. There will be a generous bonus in your pay this week.” Marie gathered the photos along with the USB stick and put them into a new manila folder, marking the tab, Golden Showers, with a permanent pen. “I could bury him up to his eyeballs in shit, thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome. For the briefest moment, I thought he recognised me. I hope this is a once off request?”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Marie assured her, as she placed the file in her briefcase. “I’m happy to take his money, but I’ll offload him to some of the other girls for all future visits.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Tell me, is he as repulsive as you remember?”
“Far worse.” Veronique removed her contact lenses, wig and hair net, allowing her long blonde curls to fall across her shoulders. “But if it helps bring Channing down one day, then it’s been totally worth it.”
“You’ve come a long way since we first met.” Marie gave her a gentle knowing smile. “I’m grateful you changed your mind that day, but I’ll always prefer you as a blonde, Erica.”