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Distracting myself by studying the faces of the men, trying to determine which one was pure and which one was just in it for the fun, I ignored the shout of the woman who came to a climax on the stage. The clapping alerted me to the end of the small show and I stood, ready to turn to business.
Chase was beside me, holding my elbow and stopping me from moving. “Let's just address them here,” he said, waving for me to sit again.
Doing as I was told, I undid the button on my jacket and sat, waiting for the music to shut off and the women to leave the stage. The men slowly turned to Chase, knowing full well what was coming next.
“My friends,” the CEO of the society said in a slow drawl, “it's a pleasure to share my wife with you today.”
They all grinned and laughed, some of them winking. It was customary for us to start our quarter yearly meetings with a little titillation before we got down to business. Once that was done, the party would commence.
Chase raised his hands to silence the men. “Today marks the twenty fifth anniversary of the creation of the protector society. I know some of you know this story off by heart, but others of you, who may be newer and younger, might not understand the importance of our motto.”
The men watched Chase like they would a movie that captivated them. I knew this story inside out, I was a founding member. Yet, I relished the reminder of why we did what we did and who we were there to actually protect.
“As you know,” Chase went on, “myself and Joseph went to university together. We encountered numerous tales of women being disrespected or downright assaulted by men and each time, we were enraged. We found ourselves ready to defend and protect our fellow women - or men, we weren't biased. Sometimes, we'd go to parties, just to keep the peace. People thought we were strange, but there was something about helping a woman who had been through a terrible experience. It felt right to want to keep them safe.”
“Except from us,” one young man quipped, laughing and slapping his knee.
Chase surged forward and grabbed the scruff of the man's shirt, pulling him up into a stand. A muffled choke came from the man's throat as he went still, realising that he needed to heed Chase's threat and relax. As soon as he did, Chase released him, staring down into his face. “You're not here for the right reasons,” he spat, “maybe you should leave.”
“N-no, my father taught me, I just... I just...” The man's stuttered reply trailed off as Chase snarled.
“Just because your father was a member before he died, doesn't mean you automatically keep your place.” Chase raised his chin. “Or have you forgotten the reason you were accepted in the first place?”
Blinking, the young man shook his head and swallowed. Although his father had been a member for many years, the man had been through his own experience of saving a young woman who had been addicted to drugs. He had fallen for her hard and tried, for two years, to help her stop. She had overdosed after two months of being clean, just days before he'd planned to propose. Since then, he'd been drawn to others who had been destructive, unable to shake the need to protect and help those who couldn't save themselves. When his father had realised he had the same tendency as himself, he had introduced him to our world.
“Of course I remember Clarissa,” the man muttered.
“Then you might need to remind yourself that we're the only ones our women can rely on.” Chase stepped back and looked around at the other younger men. “If we're abusing the ones we're supposed to be protecting, then we are not doing our job, we're not fulfilling our role of protector. We are not being true to ourselves and our desires.”
Everyone nodded, including myself. I had hated to see the women in university crying when someone had treated them badly. I'd offered comfort, relishing the thrill it gave me when they cried on my shoulder. The power of holding something so fragile, knowing you could break them, but also knowing you never would... because if you did, you would lose the whole point of being.
As I grew older, it became apparent that a lot of women were only partially broken. They were afraid of the damaged parts of themselves, so they shied away from sex, from tenderness and above all, from love. Because vulnerability was scary as hell... and hell had demons. Demons who were best kept hidden.
“I know,” Chase said, turning in a circle, “that power over women can feel intoxicating. It can be all consuming. However, we have to remind ourselves that they are human and we're trying to build them up by tearing them down. Once at the point of being truly broken and facing themselves...” Chase smiled softly, “... they become ours to protect, always. Which means we can sit back and watch them adore us as they rebuild who they truly are... without the pain.”
“So in other words,” I piped up, “Don't be a dick.”
The men, especially the younger ones, laughed and agreed, their faces becoming pensive as they sat back and absorbed Chase's lesson. He was right, he was a good teacher. No wonder he'd managed to attract such a wide variety of men to join the society. They all looked to him for inspiration. He was a guru for the good guys who wanted to help the vulnerable, even if they didn't know it.
“I saw something in you all,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal when a couple of men groaned. “I know, I'm almost done with the speech. Just let me finish and then you can... finish.”
His smirk was met with shakes of the head. Yeah, the club was about to turn dark in a while, allowing the men to satiate their desires. Some of them had brought their partners with them, and others had friends who accompanied them to satisfy their needs if they hadn't found their one. Either way, shit was about to get dirty and fun.
“You have agreed to be patrons to a charity who help all vulnerable people, and in return, we assist you to find yourself... to slay your own demons by slaying theirs.” Chase walked to the table of drinks and picked up a whisky, raising it into the air. “You've all got the business notes and the requested donation amounts. I propose a toast to our peculiar way of life and invite you to let loose, here, tonight, at Joseph's club.”
All the men raised their glasses and cheered, downing the liquid, no matter the amount, in one. I had forgotten to collect my beer, so I just watched, smiling to myself when the music started and the doors to the private hall opened. Two women, dressed in leather thongs and bralettes, stepped from behind the red curtain and gestured for us to join them.
“Just one last thing,” Chase went on before the men got up from their seats, “If we find out that anyone disrespects a woman or man against their will – we all know that some people like to be disrespected in the bedroom – you will be thrown out of the society. We might be a secret group, but we take our mission seriously.”
The men saluted Chase and made their way towards the private part of the club. Not one member of the public had been behind the doors that led to the secret hidden den. Only those of us in the society were allowed into the sex club.
“You wanted to talk?” I walked with Chase as the other men disappeared through the doors and dispersed into groups of two or three.
The slow rhythmic beat of the music vibrated through the room, enticing and exotic. The red and gold theme continued throughout the private booths with soft red material covering the seats and gold trimmed ropes holding the same coloured curtains, just in case someone wanted privacy. The tables were painted gold and sanded to look authentic. I could've paid someone else to build the tables, but I'd enjoyed making them myself. It had meant I could add embellishments that suited us. The long chains and handcuffs that hung from underneath the table surface were made from gold, just to stay in keeping with the theme.
“Some of the others fear that you've lost your enthusiasm for the society,” Chase said, nodding at two of the men as they settled around the circular stage in the middle of the room.
A woman dressed in a white lacy nightgown straddled a pole, swinging around it skilfully. A cage was raised above our heads, holding two women who were dancing together erotically.
