When he reached the bottom, he opened another door, immediately greeting his longtime security detail. “Andre, how are things?”
Former military, Andre stood at the door, alert and ready. He smiled in greeting, warming his typically hard green eyes. He didn’t hold a weapon; Andre was the weapon. Any threat walking through the door would regret their choices. “Can’t complain, boss,” Andre replied with a thick Texan accent.
“Then, it’s a good night, indeed.” Rhys headed past him, but stopped before he walked through the next door. “Let me know if any trouble comes up tonight.”
“You know it,” Andre said, inclining his head.
Every person on Rhys’s payroll also got playtime at Phoenix. It kept his employees loyal, like family. They fought to protect this club and its members as much as Rhys did, and that kept everyone safe. When he entered the main area of Phoenix, he felt eyes turn to him, the pulsating energy in the room washing over him. The seating section had brown leather couches set around square coffee tables. The gas fireplace cast a romantic glow on the place, and the large, dim chandeliers over each table added to the warmth of the space. The women wore fine lingerie; the men were shirtless, wearing only black slacks. He recognized every face, even behind the masquerade masks. As the owner of Phoenix, he personally met everyone who applied for membership. Even the members who required anonymity and wore full-face masks, Rhys knew well. He knew every secret of every person in his club, and with that trust, he offered sexual freedom at a steep price. The level of security needed to keep an identity hidden determined the cost of the membership. With the tunnels from Prohibition beneath the building, members could enter from various locations across the city. The men and women working at the club were all retired military who understood the value of secrecy and honor.
Phoenix lived in a gray area when it came to the law. The rich, famous, and powerful paid to watch two consenting adults have sex in a show of their choosing. The men and women in that show were compensated for their participation. To Rhys, this was adults consenting to a mutually beneficial agreement. One that provided the client with a sexual fantasy they enjoyed watching, and offered financial payment to someone who wanted it. Everyone knew that money bought silence. In Rhys’ experience, every person could be bought, for the right price.
Tonight, a quick sweep of his clientele told Rhys that four famous actors were there, along with their spouses, as well as a group of politicians, and a handful of Wall Street brokers. Rhys moved to the door off to the side of the bar that led to his office on this floor. The only other rooms down here were the private ones, where the nightly shows took place.
Before long, Rhys entered his office. The space had once been used to hold oak barrels full of whiskey, and some nights, Rhys swore he could catch that oaky scent lingering. When he stepped behind his desk in the stone-walled room and faced the two black leather client chairs in front of him, a low voice said, “You’re late.”
Rhys glance toward the doorway. Retired from the United States Navy SEALs Forces, Archer Westbrook entered the office and took a client chair. He had short and stylish brown hair, sharp features, and wise dark blue eyes. A friend from college with similar sexual tastes, Archer had been with Rhys from day one. Responding to Archer, Rhys glanced at his watch and grinned. “I’ve got five minutes.” He shook out of his blazer, leaving it on his chair.
“You’ll be ready in five?”
Rhys nodded. “Is Rigger’s virgin here?”
“She is, ready and waiting.” Archer interviewed, vetted, and handled finding participants for the shows.
Tonight was Senator Matthew Rigger’s night. Part of having a Phoenix membership meant that one night a month, each client could pick their preferred pleasure. The only rule? You could watch, but not touch. Phoenix was for voyeurs. Rich and famous singles and couples, looking for shows to excite them. Couples typically partook in their own sexual play when the show was over and the crowd was gone from the room. Phoenix provided rooms just for that. A few times a month, Rhys let members partake in the shows. He hand-chose the members to allow anyone who wanted to participate a chance to explore a flesh-to-flesh experience. No fantasy was overlooked. All needs were catered to. Phoenix lived and breathed sex. But when virgins were requested, Rhys took control of the show. The responsibility was greater. The risks higher. The emotions deeper.
“I’ll be out shortly,” he told Archer. Not waiting for a response, Rhys headed into the adjoining bathroom. Wasting no time, he stripped and showered, and dried off just as quickly. When he returned to his office, he left his clothes off and opened the safe behind the painting on the wall. From there, he took out his sleek black masquerade mask.
After he slipped it on, he slid into his pressed black slacks from the closet and headed across the hallway. When he reached the door, he exhaled a long breath. Virgins were not his preference. He lived for lust, passion, and all that was in between. But he understood the responsibility of handling emotions and protecting the women who entered his club.
He took one more deep breath and focused on giving Rigger the show he wanted while doing right by the virgin in his care. When he strode through the door, he found that most of the members had come into the playroom. Not unexpected. Rhys didn’t partake in the shows often, and when he did, the members showed up. He knew why. People loved power. As the head of Phoenix and born into the wealthy Harrington family, he represented that.
The crowd stationed around the room silenced as he strode in, the door shutting behind him. This space was the size of a typical conference room, but surrounded by stone walls, flickering candles, and with a velvet chaise against the far wall, it felt intimate. Next to the chaise was a gold platter with a condom and a black silk robe resting on top. But none of that held his attention when he finally caught sight of the woman waiting for him. She stood next to the dark-purple velvet chaise. Behind her delicate mask, he saw light hazel eyes accentuated with soft makeup that led down to high cheekbones, a gentle nose, and burgundy-painted lips. All that delicate beauty was surrounded by long strawberry-blonde hair. Rhys couldn’t stop his gaze from slowly traveling over her dark-green lingerie and garter belt all the way down to sexy black heels that made her legs look a mile long. By the time he reached her face again, his cock was hard, greedy.
He approached her, feeling the energy in the room tickling across his skin. When he stopped in front of her, he noted the heavy rise and fall of her chest. She had trouble holding his eye contact. And yet, she appeared to force herself to. Shy, but brave. A combination he hadn’t known he liked until right now. She didn’t once look away as he circled her, eyeing up his treat for the night. He tested her, stroking a finger down her arm, and the response she gave was immediate. Her cheeks flushed and lips parted, a slight tremble running through her. Gorgeous.
Heat flooded him as he made his way back in front of her and tucked a thumb under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. More to try to understand her than for the show, he stared into her eyes then dropped his mouth to hers. He kissed her, soft and gentle, showing her they were in no rush tonight. He had no plans to toss her onto the chaise and steal her virginity. No, with every slide of his tongue, he hoped she understood he’d have her begging before he dared take what she was willingly offering him tonight.