Now that I know Bones is a member, I understand why Jasmine brought him in. He knows the ins and outs. But my concern is what kind of restrictions they have with a member buying in?
The man takes a right at the end of the dance floor, and we come to a hallway. Nothing but glass. You can see into the rooms on either side. You can see the people inside the rooms having sex. So many props. One that looks like a cross with a naked man strapped to it. Another that looks like a black leather bench—a woman bent over it.
One room we walk past has two men and a woman in it. She’s bent over a table, her hands tied behind her back, legs spread wide tied and restrained. One man is behind her, the other in front of her.
“This is heaven,” Jasmine says excitedly.
He takes us into a room that has a black leather couch and two chairs. A coffee table sits in the middle with a stack of papers. Not a single window on the walls.
Jasmine still holds my hand so when she sits down on the couch, I plop down beside her. Bones takes the chair across from us, and Hooke unbuttons his suit jacket before sitting beside him in the other one. “I’m not going to lie; I was excited when you called me, Bones. I think Kink will be great for you. We’re honored to have a Vegas location.”
I’m not much of a fan of this Hooke guy already. Jasmine said we needed Bones, and the more he talks, the more I understand why. I hate sexist pigs.
“It was Jasmine’s idea.” Bones looks at her, giving her the credit. “It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass.”
“Yes …” He lets out a long breath. “Well, Kink is thrilled to have two women partnering.”
Liar. Even I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. Like someone is forcing him to let us in. I wonder if Bones is that person? It makes me want to do this even more.
“I’ve done some research,” I say, finally speaking. “And I find it interesting that you have twenty-five locations worldwide and not a single woman owns a Kink. Why is that?”
Hooke lifts his right leg to place his ankle on his left knee and settles back into his seat. His eyes meet mine. “Look around Kink. Most of your dominant participants are male. Women choose to follow, not lead.”
Jackass.
“And then, of course, men are more reliable. More dominant in the business field …”
“Excuse me?” Jasmine asks, sitting up straighter. “What does that mean?”
He looks at her. His eyes drop to her cleavage before returning to hers. A smirk grows across his face as if he’s imagining tying her up in one of those rooms we just passed. “Women prefer the family life. Babies. They have responsibilities at home that keep them permanently tied there. Whereas men choose to devote their lives to their careers.” He reaches his hands out wide. “The statistics back up those facts.”
“That—”
“We’re getting off topic,” Bones interrupts Jasmine.
“Look …” Hooke places his foot on the floor. Adjusting his suit jacket, he obviously has more to say. “We’re thrilled to have you two joining Kink, but I’d be lying if I said I’d be sitting here with you ladies without Bones.”
Even though Jasmine had already told me we needed Bones, Hooke’s words still piss me off. How dare this motherfucker tell us what we can do with our lives? With our money. Women are capable of anything, but we’re looked at being weak because we carry a child for nine months.
A silence falls over the room. I can feel Jasmine’s stiff body next to mine. She wants to say something. Hell, I want to say more, but the look on Bones’s face is telling us both to shut the hell up. Maybe Hooke wants us to take his words personally and make a scene—then he’d have a reason to turn us down when we lash out at him. He’s probably recording us at this very moment.
I run a hand down my black dress. “How many members do you have?” Screw this guy and what he thinks he knows of us. I’ll show him how committed I am. I’ve read the paperwork.
“A little over five hundred at the moment,” he states proudly.
I almost choke on fucking air. Five hundred? The contract said the member buy-in is fifty grand a person. Each year. At fifty thousand a pop, it’s twenty-five million dollars. That’s insane.
“Are the memberships your only source of revenue?” I ask. The contract didn’t state anything other than the original buy-in for the members.
He shakes his head. “The fifty thousand per membership only gets them in the door. If they bring a date, it costs them. If they want bottle service, it costs them.” He gives a cruel smile. “If you want a room …” He holds his hands out wide. “Well, you get it. Everything costs you here.”