Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
It’s not exactly sex because that would be déclassé and too low-brow. Instead, it’s a luxurious atmosphere where women teeter about wearing next-to-nothing, their breasts and pussies on display, while billionaire relax among the plush leather banquettes and velvet-covered sofas. Of course, what happens at the club is sordid, taboo and would make for the best kind of romance novel because these things really do happen behind closed doors – for an exorbitant price, of course.
But this is where I find my particular type of stress relief because being pre-med is driving me crazy. I can’t keep staying awake all night while studying for MCATs, and downing bags of Cheetos in the process. I can’t keep putting on weight at a crazy rate because I have no time to exercise. Worst of all, my usual go-to for stress relief, Redline and Roses, hasn’t been doing it for me lately. I’ve set aside time for jewelry-making, but unfortunately, I’m still jittery and on-edge, not to mention irascible and perpetually grumpy.
So as my roomie watches, I pull on the black mini-dress before adjusting the fabric in the mirror. The material barely covers my huge DD tits, and the hem falls to just below my pussy. I’m a little pale from never seeing the sun, but hopefully, the low lights of the club will disguise that. Then, I fluff my long blonde hair over my shoulder before leaning forwards to apply a vampy red lipstick.
Minnie wolf-whistles.
“You look hot,” she says approvingly. “But why do you do this, Ems? I mean, you don’t need to work as a hostess. Your dad gives you plenty of money for school.”
I check my lipstick in the mirror, pressing my lips together before nodding slightly.
“He does,” I acknowledge. “But this isn’t about the money for me, although I have to say that it does feel nice to make my own coin. It’s about the stress relief that Club Z provides.”
Minnie looks confused though.
“But I thought that you’d taken up meditation,” she says in a low voice. “Weren’t you also trying yoga, Pilates, and that new thing? What was it called? Solidcore?”
I smile while stepping into sky-high black heels.
“I did do Solidcore last week, and that’s how I can walk in these shoes without falling flat on my face! Because I stretched my core muscles until they were screaming and begging me to stop. Plus, the workouts and meditation are excellent, and they do relieve stress for me. But it’s not enough. I need Club Z to really work the anxiety out of my mind and body.”
Minnie looks apprehensive.
“It just sounds really ... I don’t know...”
“Bizarre?” I ask with an eyebrow quirked. “Imbalanced? Insane, even?”
“No, of course not!” Minnie protests, her cheeks flushing. “I’d never judge you, Emma—”
“Except you are,” I say in a firm tone while grabbing my clutch. “I know that Club Z sounds sketchy to outsiders because it’s a billionaires’ club where rich guys get to do whatever they want. But if you think about it, that’s what happens all the time, in every situation, all over the world. The world is ruled by a coterie of wealthy men doing whatever they want, and the only difference is that at Club Z, they don’t need to pretend anymore. They don’t need to pretend to care about rules, laws, or even social mores. This is a place for Masters of the Universe to relax and put their feet up, without being judged. In that sense, I think Club Z is much more real and honest than most social situations.”
“Wow,” Minnie murmurs, her blue eyes wide. “Sometimes I think you really are too smart for your own good, Emma. I mean, would you agree with that?”
I shrug.
“Brains are what’s killing me right now, girlfriend, and Club Z is where I go to relax,” I say with a saucy smile before giving her a small wave. “The club is my happy place, and you, Mary Amelia Morehand, get to reap the benefits too because tomorrow, I’ll be a much more cheerful person. I’ll be radiating sunshine, and happy as a clam. So what do you say? Should we get bagels first thing? I say we go to Black Seed over on Courtnay Street because their lox cream cheese is divine.”
Then, with another quick wave, I’m out the door and down the stairs to where my Uber awaits. With a quick hop and a skip, I’m into the massive black SUV, which pulls away from the curb in a smooth slide. Then, the streets go by in a blur as I stare out the window because my mind is pre-occupied. What if Minnie’s right? What if I’m seeking stress relief in all the wrong places? After all, girls our age are vying to be “West Village It Girls” while streaming videos of themselves dancing to catchy music. They make reels of themselves drinking iced matcha lattes and showing off their latest glittery manicures, before going out at night with a bunch of fratty dudes. Meanwhile, I’m doing the exact opposite: I’m headed to an elite billionaires’ club where wealthy, older men await pretty young things, no backwards baseball caps in sight.