Page 26 of Pretender

Le Lounge has never been mentioned in any blog, press, or other media. There are plenty of sex clubs in the city—with websites and open application forms—but Le Lounge is only by invitation and a seriously tedious vetting process. Wonder if I can learn something from their methods.

But not tonight.

This is my private space.

Of course, some of the clientele from The Orion also frequent this club, but there’s an unspoken rule that we don’t interact when here. There’s no business on the agenda. No one I need to charm.

The hostess greets me with a nod and her casual gaze. That woman knows more than is healthy for one person, but she’s good at pretending she doesn’t.

“Good evening, Rita.”

“Good evening, Mr A,” she says, reaching for the phone I hold out for her. My shoulders drop an inch as she slides it into a velvet pouch and tucks it away in a cubbyhole behind her.

Aiden Aurellan, CEO, is on hold.

“How is the event going?” I ask, jutting my chin towards the thick door behind Rita.

“Excellent, sir. I’m sure you’ll have the most wonderful time.”

“Good.”

“Will you require a suite as usual?”

“Most likely.”

Rita nods and hands me a key. “Suite three.”

I make my way through the dimly lit basement. The speakeasy style is deliberate: there are fake windows painted with a view of London, dark brown Chesterfield couches, exposed brick walls, and dark blue carpet underfoot.

The darkness is one thing I like about Le Lounge. The light is low enough in here that you can only distinguish someone’s features when you’re up close.

There’s no need to perform. No need to pretend it’s anything else, because we’re all here for the same reasons. What we share is contained between these four walls, mutually agreed as just sex between peers. No one expects or wants more from me and I can enjoy guilt-free physical release.

I let out a long breath, scanning the room.

A woman with her back to me draws my attention. Long blond hair cascades down her back, ending above a generous backside.

Perfect.

I weave my way towards her through the people talking across tall tables, past a couple already starting their foreplay on the couch. There’s one guy I recognise from somewhere but can’t place, and a shadow cabinet member. She gives me the slightest wink as I pass.

I walk up next to the blonde, and she tilts her chin up to meet my eyes. Her face is narrow, rather than square, but she’ll do.

The chit-chat is short, we don’t get into work or life details here. She could be anything from a CEO to a human rights lawyer, it doesn’t matter—we’re both here for the simplicity.

I lean in, whispering in her ear, dropping a hand to the dip in her waist, and she responds by arching against me.

Her kiss is hungry, possessive, and just what I need tonight.

Once in my suite, she slips out of her dress and underwear. Her solid hips and that soft curve of her waist make my dick twitch.

“So,” she says, sitting down on the foot end of the bed, spreading her legs. “Do you like to watch?”

She slides her hand down her stomach to her already swollen clit, watching me watch her.

“Keep going,” I rasp, and she lays back on the bed, her blond waves fanning out around her.

I undo my pants to let my cock out, but I’m not as hard as I should be.