The Club by Salome Fox

 
     
     
     
    The Billionaire’s Club
     
    By Salome Fox
     
    Chapter 1
     
    The club i s in a brick building in the middle of the city, nestled amidst galleries, brownstones and private schools . It looks plain and subdued , with an understated elegance , like i t could house an embassy or a law firm . Its members a ren’t just wealthy . T hey a re the emperors of the world. T hey always get what they want without quibble or difficulty . The rooftop garden i s open year-round so members can gaze down on all that they own and pour champagne on it if they cho o se.
    T he club’s reputation i s impeccable, but also tinged with intrigue— things go on behind its closed doors that didn’t usually go on behind closed doors. Gossips whisper about masks and virgins and orgies involving dark rituals. Its owner Max imilian Gregory i s young and impulsive, given to throwing lavish parties then ab ruptly disappearing for months. I suppose the city’s most in famous billionaire, owner of half the real estate worth owning, could do as he damn-well pleases.
    The club hires women, though its members are exclusively male . The women who work here don’t pour drinks or light cigars. They entertain. I go t an audition by understanding som ething important about the club’s members. T hey are easily bored by masks and orgies and virgins .
    Fortunately for them, I am not boring.
    My first night, I enter the club’ s inner sanctum. It is a room deep in the heart of the building, on the grou nd floor or perhaps even below that . Five men si t on rich leather chairs around a heavy table near a small stage, their ties loose and their shi rt sleeves rolled up.
    The air i s thick wi th cigar smoke and power. A fire in the corner throws off warm light and makes the scotch in each man’s tumbler look like liquid gold . The men a re all in their sixties save one. I nod to each in turn as they ru n their eyes up and down my body. They lick their lips at t he site of me, something men have been doing since I turned fifteen.
    I wear a white satin dress that cl ings to each one of my curves. There i s nothing underneath the dress. It caresses my golden skin directly, slipping and sliding against my flat stomach and thighs and dipping low to show off my smooth shapely back. M y long hair free ly wave s around my shoulders, caressing them with its silky softness .
    The men’ s eyes all stop at my breasts, as I’d known t hey would. My tits are very full and round . They’re natural and gorgeous, like pink-tipped can dy to an audience of men used to spending time with perfection . I casually ru n my hands over my nipples and mak e eye contact with the youngest man at the table as I step on to the stage.
    I have to stop myself from gasping. It’s Max Gregory himself.
    His face i s arresting , with stunning green eyes that seem to look right into me. He has thick, dark unruly hair and broad shoulders. As the other men’s eyes rake over the high slit i n my gown and the way the silky satin caresses my curved ass, his eyes stay on mine. He could clearly have any woman he wants . His powerful , tan forearms and a dark five o’clock shadow make my stomach flutter. I feel something pure in my core that I haven ’t felt in a long time— lust. I want him. I long to unbutton his three hundred dollar shirt and run my ton gue down to his zipper so I can pull it open with my teeth . I want to press myself into him and feel him pressing back. I imagine his cock, large and hard for me. I imagine him bending me over right then and there and filling me up, over and over and over.
    I tell him how I feel with my eyes and my slightly parted lips . His shrewd eyes s eem amused , as if he’s used to women falling before him with their legs open ; he kno w s he could dismiss everyone else and have me right then and there.
                  But h e i s wrong.
                  I have a job to do and it’ s time to begin. I moved to the center