Ace Carlyle
I don't know why I always end in places like this. The atmosphere has never been something enjoyable to me, but it does distract me from what's going on in my life. I've pushed everyone away, even my mother and brother — they want me to talk about my feelings, and that's the last thing I want; it brings back all the pain I've been working hard to ignore.
It's funny how the last time I was at a strip club was the day I met Lotus. Speaking of Lotus, we haven't talked or seen each other in two months, which is when she came to Paris to try to help me. I really do appreciate her willingness to help me, but I don't feel like I can be helped. Losing Christabelle and Visenya just ended my love for life. Now it's just a waiting game to be a pile of ashes.
"Can I please have a glass of whiskey?" I asked the bartender. The person behind the bar placed a glass in front of me and poured the right amount "Merci."
(Thank you.)
He nodded with a smile "You're welcome."
I turned on the stool to look at the woman on stage; she's wearing a leather harness that doesn't cover really anything — it just adorns her body. I don't feel anything for the image, really. The only reason for me to be in such an atmosphere is because there's so much going on around me, I get no room to actually dive into my thoughts.
After sitting there for a couple of minutes, watching the performance on the dance pole, I decided to go sit at one of the booths.
Christabelle wouldn't be proud of my behavior, and not because I'm at a strip club but because I'm not having fun at a strip club. Before the accident, she told me that we needed to go to one together and have fun — it made me feel so good that she trusted me so much she wanted to take me to a strip club herself. She was fun all around.
None of the girls around are paying attention to me, because there were plenty people interested in them already and that's perfect — I'm just here to drink.
"Hey," someone said and my eyes shot up to find a tall brunette, wearing a fuchsia cropped cutout cardigan, a black mini skirt and really high-heel leather boots.
"I'm not looking for any company," I shook my head.
She smiled "I didn't come here for that."
"Oh, I'm sorry," my face turned hot "I just assumed you worked here—"
"I do work here," she told in her posh British accent. "I've memorized every single face that comes through those doors, and you're simply not one of our regulars," she leaned down to bend over the table, accentuating the curvatures of her body. "What brings you here if you're not interested in company?"
"Just an innocent distraction from my life," I shrugged.
The woman chuckled "This place is far from innocent, Sir."
"Just Ace – I don't like the sir thing," I cleared my throat. "What's your name?"
"Then you may call me Lula, Ace," she went from bending over the table to sitting on it with her long legs on my direction.
"Is that your actual name?" I took a sip of my drink.
Lula grinned "Absolutely not. Have you ever been to a strip club where they use real names? That's a bad business plan."
Her snarky comment made me smile "I'm not a strip club kind of guy. I'm actually not a going out kind of person."
"Then what are you doing out and at a strip club?" Lula leaned back on her hands as the bartender left a glass, with what looked like a mojito, beside her. "Thanks, darling."
I cleared my throat "Having some trouble sleeping at home. It's easier to be outside than to stay there." That's the nicest way to put it — I should memorize it in case someone else asks.
"If you want a more private place to suffer your sorrows, I happen to have the keys to a more exclusive place," she took a sip of her drink. "Maybe there you can thrust your problems away. By the look of that Rolex, money doesn't seem to be a problem for you."
My eyes glanced down at my silver Rolex – a gift from Christabelle the day of our wedding. I gave her a matching one with diamonds a week later when we made a stop in Paris for our honeymoon "You're correct, but I don't come here looking for any sort of sexual encounter."
"Are you sure about that, darling?" she propped her legs up on the table and spread them open to show me what's between her legs. Years ago, before Lotus and the woman who cheated on me with my dad, I would've given up quite easily – Lula is beautiful, that's not in question, but my sex drive is nonexistent and I don't think I'll ever feel even the tinniest lust for anyone else again.
I quickly looked back at her eyes "You have a nice bush."
Lula chuckled; didn't seem uncomfortable or embarrassed at all "Thank you – I like it as well. You really don't want company, do you?" she closed and crossed her legs, still smiling but softer this time "I'll let you be then," Lula hopped off the table. "Enjoy the music, handsome," she leaned down to peck my cheek and left me alone.
Talking to someone else was nice; I had forgotten what it felt like to exchange words with someone else and my voice is not something I hear often as well.
My eyes scanned the room, analyzing my surroundings; Lula quickly found her place on a man's lap who seemed infatuated with her, especially by the way his lips grazed her nipples over her very cropped shirt that barely covers her breasts. The man's hand wandered into her skirt, and she let her legs fall open for him. She looked up from the man and our eyes met, but I immediately looked away.
I need to leave this place. I threw back the whiskey and got up on my feet to pay the drink at the bar before leaving.
Lilith Azar
"Leaving already, sweetheart?" Lucien, the barman and my best friend, asked me as I left him €300 on the bar for him.
I nodded with a soft smile "I'm tired; I've been here for 18 hours. Benoit has the spare key so don't worry about closing." I leaned over the bar to kiss his cheek "See you in the morning, darling."
"See you," Lucien smiled.
Outside Benoit, head of security for the club, was waiting by my black Rolls Royce SUV with the door open for me "Merci Benoit," I looked up at him "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Benoit wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me up against him "You owe me more than one."
I chuckled "And I plan on repaying you for all your troubles, darling. You know I always pay my debts, especially when it comes to very dear intimate friends," I whispered as he leaned down to crush his lips against mine, which I allowed.
Once I gently pushed him away to terminate the kiss, I got into my car and drove away to my home. I live on the 16th arrondissement — this neighborhood is old-money. It matches my Rolls Royce.
Strippers do make a lot of money, but not the kind of money that buys a 15 million-euro flat or a Rolls Royce SUV, however, that's not all there's to me. You could say I'm the keeper of elite pleasure across Europe, and though field work is not something I need to do, I enjoy it from time to time — keeps me informed on what clients like, besides, I like the attention.
Yes, I am a whore and an attention whore, but I couldn't be happier to be so. Sex has always been something positive and natural in my family; and my parents were never afraid to inform me about it. As for the attention whore part, well, I'm an only child.
When I arrived home, the first thing I did was take a shower since the smell of cigarettes and booze impregnated my skin and hair.
Right after changing in my bedroom, I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of chamomile tea. It's routine for me before going to bed, it grounds me, somehow. My mum would always have one before bed, so I would guess that's why.
Though my parents passed a little over a decade ago, I was taken in by one of their best friends and associate as well. My parents were archeologists and excavations require a lot of funding — the three knew each other since they were ten. Uncle Alistair adored my parents but also their craft, and that's why he was also their bank when they needed it for work.
Uncle Alistair was a second father to me; he knew me from the moment I was born so when I moved in with him, it wasn't this big new thing to get used to. We've amazing years together, but one day he simply cut off our communication; he knows what I do for a living and has never been ashamed by it. He has a lot of shame for things he feels and that's why he hasn't spoken to me in years.
Uncle Alistair taught me all about how cruel and ruthless the world is. How you can make plans but destiny doesn't give a fuck about them or you. Since I was the only family he had, I inherited his fortune. My ultimate wish had always been to become an archeologist like my parents, but after losing him — in a way — I realised that archeology wasn't my passion. Power has always been my passion, and the fastest way to get power is through sex and pleasure.
I took a sip of my tea as I leaned on my kitchen island, clearing my mind of everything that happened today. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, but sometimes the conventional club scene drains me.
A knock on my door interrupted my peaceful thoughts. It can only be one person at this hour of the night. My feet took me to the door, and before opening I looked through the peephole — it's exactly who I thought it was.
"Hi darling," I said with a smile and he stepped inside, leaving his bodyguards outside. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Well, I need sex," he told. He being Yves Lemaire, the son of a former president of France and a politician himself.
"Yves, I'm not open 24/7 — if you want to fuck me you'll have wait until tomorrow—"
"I'll pay triple," his arm wrapped around my waist to pull me close. "I need you, Lilith," his eyes were pleading.
My right eyebrow arched "Triple this time and double the next three times," I offered.
Yves nodded like a lost puppy "Whatever it takes."
This is the power I talk about. I have powerful men at my feet, pleading to have me. Isn't it beautiful?