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“This is one of our private rooms,” I explain as I push open the door.
The room beyond is a marvel of ice craftsmanship, its every surface sculpted from translucent frozen blocks. Illuminated from behind, the ice emits an eerie, underwater-like glow, casting shifting shadows that dance across the room.
At its centre, the Igloo room boasts a generously sized king bed intricately chiselled from the ice. The craftsmanship is apparent in the fine details etched into the frozen frame, which mimic the delicate patterns of frost. To counter the chilly ambiance, the bed is thoughtfully adorned with sumptuous furs,offering a stark yet inviting contrast to the icy surroundings. It’s one of our most popular rooms, something special only on offer for the holidays, though it’s currently unoccupied. The night is still young after all.
“Oh wow, it’s always been a dream of mine to stay in an ice hotel,” Candy exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the icy surroundings.
“It has?” I ask, genuinely intrigued by her enthusiasm.
She nods excitedly, walking around the space and dancing her fingers lightly over every surface. Her touch sends a faint, crystalline chime through the air as her fingertips trace the intricate ice carvings. “I saw a picture once in a travel agent’s window and always thought it looked like a magical experience. But being here in person...it’s even more enchanting than I imagined.”
I watch her with a warm smile, appreciating her childlike wonder as she explores the ice room. Her fascination with the place is endearing, like she’s forgotten that she’s not in an actual ice hotel, but a themed room at a sex club. I would love to see her react to some sensory play with ice. Maybe even a little fire too. She seems more comfortable here than in the previous rooms though, and I have to wonder if it’s because we’re alone in a private space. I know the communal rooms aren’t for everyone, but it would be such a shame if she didn’t explore every facet the club has to offer.Especially with me to guide her.
Look at me, getting ahead of myself. Just because she hasn’t run from the place screaming, doesn’t mean she’s going to suddenly become an active, participating member of staff. I have to remind my dick to calm the fuck down.
“Our private rooms are where our VIP customers come to indulge in their deepest, darkest desires. They pay top dollar for the privacy and discretion we offer here.”
Candy nods, her eyes darting around the room.
“When you say Christmas-themed, I conjure images of tacky Santa suits and annoying jingly elf costumes, but this isn’t tacky at all. It’s breathtaking.”
I can see her starting to understand what we do here, even if she doesn’t quite know how to feel about it yet.
“Do you understand what’s expected of you, Candy?” I ask, turning to face her.
She swallows hard and shakes her head. “No. Not really. I thought I was just a waitress.”
“You don’t get it?” I step closer to her, my breath hot on her neck. “You’re a part of this now, Candy. You need to understand that our clients come here for more than just a drink. They come here for an experience, and it’s our job to make sure they get what they want. You may only be here to work behind the bar, but you’re still part of the experience. Which is why the heels and outfits are so important.”
Candy nods. “I understand,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” I say, my hand coming up to stroke her cheek. “Because if you don’t, you won’t last long here. And I’d hate to lose such a pretty addition to our staff, before my friends and I have the opportunity to get to know you better.”
Candy’s eyes widen at my words, but before she can say anything, I move away from her and head back out into the corridor.
“Come on,” I say, gesturing for her to follow me. “There’s still more to see. I want to show you one more space. I think you’ll like it.”
As I lead her beyond the selection of private rooms, Candy starts to relax a little, happier in the darkened, deserted corridors. She’s still apprehensive, but she’s also starting to see the allure of the club. I can tell from the way she bends her neck to peek into the rooms whose doors are ajar. She’s starting to seehow the experience we offer our clients is unlike anything else out there.
The next corridor is the last one I’ll show her for now. I need to get downstairs to the dungeon, and there’s no way Candy’s ready for that. I’ve deliberately kept her tour as vanilla as I can, to test the waters and see how she reacts. I’m about to take that up a notch, but I’d never throw her in at the deep end with what I do best here.
I slip my hand into hers as we re-enter the bar area and I lead her off to a door on the right. Frost shoots me a knowing smirk as we pass, which I ignore.
Maybe Candy’s more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist. If so, this corridor will be right up her alley.
It’s so dark when we enter. The only light we have in this space is the health and safety mandated emergency escaping lighting on the floor, and the ambient light that spills from the rooms beyond the viewing windows. This corridor is the viewing platform, or the Voyeur’s Vista as our members sometimes call it. Six evenly spaced windows on each side, with raised boxes in front of each one to give the best possible view into each of the rooms beyond.
Currently, there’s a small crowd gathered around the first window on the left, all eagerly watching the scene going on beyond the glass, so I carefully lead Candy past that. Candy rises onto her tiptoes though to try and see what everyone else is so enthralled by. The atmosphere in here is electric. Tangible. Full of possibility and excitement. And I know it’s affecting Candy too because when we pass by, the lights show that her cheeks are flushed. Pink already suits her so beautifully, I wonder what her skin would look like, turned red beneath my palm or whip.
The first window on the right has a curtain across it, which suits me fine. I’d rather take Candy further down the corridor where we’ll have a little privacy. The second window on the leftshows the room is empty, but the one on the right has a scene in full swing. We pause, and I gesture for Candy to step up onto the box to take a look. She glances into the room, ignoring the view of a woman being spit roasted, and scans the decor once more.
“It’s nice,” she whispers, shrugging.
I bite back a smile, lips twitching and motion for her to continue further down. The next windows both have curtains drawn but a small red light beside the one on the left indicates that we can listen in. I guide Candy over and pass her a set of headphones to slip on. With a quizzical expression, she takes and dons them, her eyes immediately widening when the soundtrack reaches her ears.
“My god is that—”
I slam my hand over her mouth and a jolt of electricity flies between us. She tentatively lifts the headphones from her ears and whispers against my hand, “Sorry. It took me by surprise.”
