AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She nods, quickly glancing at me then away again. Just as she’s sucking that delectable bottom lip between her teeth again, Frost calls out, “Good fucking luck if the fate of our company rests in her hands.”
It works like a charm. With a withering glare levelled his way, she releases her lip, throws her shoulders back, and marches out of the office with all the sass of a dominatrix.
“Well played, Frost,” North says quietly, staring at the door Candy just slammed. “Well played.”
CANDY
Fuck Frost and his shitty attitude. I can serve a few guys playing poker a few drinks without fucking up their lives. I’m not a liability. I probably shouldn’t have called him a cunt though, considering that he’s technically my boss.
I squeak when I realise thatDon is also my bossand I’ve slept with him. In fact, all five of my bosses have either seen me in various states of undress or have grounds to fire my sorry ass.
Fuck.
I need to remember how much I need this job, get my head in the game and keep my temper in check.
Double pay and cash in hand alone is worth it.
For one night only I can lock Candy from the streets firmly inside her box and can just be Grace. I can do this. Four out of my five bosses believe I can, so I’m going to put my trust in them that they know what they’re doing.
I slip into the staff changing room and say hi to Vixen as she’s leaving. Everyone else ignores me, so I don’t bother trying to talk to any of them. Crossing to my locker, I open it up and pull out tonight’s costume.
I’m nearly hyperventilating at the sight of it before I remember that North said I could choose what to wear. Elle’sincredibly expensive couture dress and cloud-heels, or this…slip of material.
It’s two white, completely sheer panels of lace fabric held in place by delicate silver chains. I hold the dress – if you can call it that – up against me. There’s no way in hell I could ever wear this. But there’s also no denying the way my heart rate picks up when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The costume has a chain halter neck dropping into a deep plunging lace neckline which basically forms a Y shape, covering my breasts and falling between my legs. It’s ascrapof fabric. Hardly decent. Chains under the breasts and at my hips would keep the material from gaping and they disappear around the back where there’s a train of lace that skims the floor and would barely conceal my ass.
Not to mention that even if I did wear thiseverythingwould be on show. I check my locker again but there’s nothing else in there. No matching thong or stilettos. That’s when I realise it’s a slave girl outfit. And the silver chains are actually tiny little sleigh bells. Festiveandfilthy.
Tittering has me throwing the garment into the bottom of my locker like I’ve been burnt. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, and I know that my skin is flushed. I throw my bag in too, slam the locker door and march back out of the changing room with my head held as high as I can manage. Whispers follow me as I go. They probably think I’m off to make another scene. Fuck them. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to pay back my landlord, replace my meagre possessions, and if I’m really lucky, find somewhere I can afford to rent to get me out from under Elle’s feet as soon as possible.
“Ready?” Don asks when I storm through the door. He’s changed from his jeans and combat boots into smart black slacks and shiny black dress shoes.
I raise a brow at his attire. “This is…different.”
“Got to look the part now, haven’t we?” He smirks. I have to resist the urge to lick my lips at how deliciously good he looks.
“Lead the way then,” I say with only a slight catch in my voice.
Without another word between us, Don sets off across the bar and through one of the doors that North didn’t take me through on my tour. Behind the door is a staircase with a black velvet rope across it, which Don unhooks and holds open for me. I end up pressed against him as I attempt to squeeze past so that he can replace the barrier behind us. He lets me take the lead up the stairs and I swear I feel his gaze burning my back the entire time.
At the top of the stairs there’s another unmarked door, which Don opens by leaning around me, his chest pressing into my back, the heat of his body searing me even through our clothes. I swallow nervously and the sound comes out too loud in the quiet, deserted hallway. I’m sure he groans.
“It’s just serving drinks,” he reassures me, but the way he saysservingdoes something funny to my insides and causes a lick of heat to shoot between my thighs.
I ignore it and step into the VIP room. It’s…disappointingly normal, like a special function room in a nightclub. Don’t get me wrong, there’s gorgeous parquet flooring and a plush thick black rug under foot and the entire wall on my right overlooks the main bar area through smoked glass. The space is intimately lit and on my left is a long bar which is all black and gold, yet modern. At the far end of the room there’s a door discretely marked bathroom.
In the centre of the room, there’s a round table set up ready for the poker match, the chips laid out in a tray in the centre. Six black velvet wingback chairs surround the table. And there’s a low golden side table next to each chair.
There’s nothing in here to give away that this is a VIP room in a sex club.
Frowning, I turn to Don to ask him about it, and that’s when my jaw drops.
Behind the door, in the corner of the room, is an enormous golden gilt birdcage, complete with swinging perch.
“What the hell kind of bird goes in there?” I ask.
“Ummm, the human kind,” Don replies, at least having the decency not to laugh at my cluelessness. It still makes me tingle with embarrassment. Ahumanbird cage – though Elle’s voice in my head is telling me that that’s another tautology. The cage is for humans. For girls. I don’t need the ’bird’.
“Are you okay?” Don asks.
