I nod my head because that was the plan in the first place. I want to know what the guy looked like so I can add it to the next story. See if we can out him. One email in my box says Elite Sex Club. Opening it, I start to read and my body freezes.* * *Dear Miss,* * *I would think a woman like you would know better. Don’t you think a secret sex club is secret for a reason? Have you thought of what might happen to someone if they should continue to expose such a club?* * *Yours sincerely,
Concerned Reader* * *I shake my head at the email. Really, I can’t work out if this is a threat or a warning. Either way, I don’t take kindly to either.* * *Dear Concerned Reader,* * *Your advice has been noted, but not taken. Thank you for your input, and if you have any actual information on such a place, please let me know and we can meet.* * *Thank you,
Writer* * *I start to read through the others which are of no help. Some are just people mentioning sex clubs or gentlemen clubs that you have to pay to enter. Which most people know about thanks to books and the internet. This place I’m talking about seems to hold the best-kept secret. Bob/Tom told me that it’s been up and running for years and holds its privacy very seriously. He even mentioned that it’s dangerous to speak about. Which is exactly what we just did. We exposed it, but more information is vital to dig further into the story. Just before I go on to the next email, the same email address pops up with a new reply. The whole email is very generic and gives no indication of who it could be. I should ignore it and go to the next, but I’m compelled to open it.* * *Dear Miss,* * *I have all the information on this place that may or may not even exist. This is why I am being a gentleman and offering you the chance to withdraw your story and stop the chase. Cancel dinner tonight, you may not want to attend.* * *Yours sincerely,
Concerned reader* * *I call down to tech straight away. “Can you trace this email?” They do and call me back in five minutes as I sit here and read the same message over and over again.
“It’s untraceable.”
“Okay, thanks for checking,” I hang up confused.
How the fuck can an email be untraceable?* * *Dear Concerned Reader,* * *Are you threatening me, now?* * *I don’t even end the email, just send as is. And wait for the reply, which is straight away.* * *Dear Miss,* * *I would never do such a thing. Just a word of warning. How was your Chinese today?* * *Yours sincerely,
Concerned Reader* * *I slam my laptop shut and look out my office window to the main area. No one is looking in and I don’t understand who’s sending this. It could be a joke, but something inside me is telling me it’s not. But I won’t be intimidated by someone I don’t even know. Throwing my Chinese takeout in the bin, I grab my bag and leave to get ready for tonight. Which I refuse to cancel, no matter how much I want to right now.
The things we do for a story.He’s dressed in a suit and situated in a private booth all the way at the back. They even have to open a curtain to let me in after I showed them my ID. He stands and offers me his hand. I place mine in it as he leans down to kiss it.
“Ariel, as beautiful as ever.” He offers me a seat, and I have to force a smile because in the back of my mind that email still lingers there. When I look up after I sit his eyes are on me. He’s older than me, there’s no doubt about that. Almost a decade, to be exact. I happen to like my men older than me, the younger ones I’ve met haven’t matured.
“What should I call you? I’m sure you don’t want to be called Bob, and I’m unsure if I should be using your name?” I say referring to the article. And from what I’ve heard he doesn’t like his name either. It brings too much pressure for him. He once quoted that fact in an interview.
“You can call me by my name, Tom will do.”
I nod my head and grab the menu.
“I’m surprised you came, I figured once you got what you wanted you wouldn’t come again.”
I smile at the truth of that statement. Just because he’s famous does not mean I want him, it’s actually quite the opposite. To me, it’s a turn-off. Who wants to be in the spotlight like he is as one of the most famous people in television history? And everywhere he goes, he has at least ten other people close by. Like right now, two of his security guards are situated on the other side of this curtain. One is even in here with us reading a magazine. And I’m sure there’s more hanging around, but I have no interest in it.