“What has that to do with my request?”
“You want a fake boyfriend and such engagement won’t come cheap. I’ll be your boyfriend, but in return, you have to pay me with one pleasure of your choosing.”
Belle blanched. “You mean…I have to sleep with you?”
“That’s my price.”
“I…” She stepped back. Her face turned magenta. “Why can’t you just ask for money?”
“I don’t need money.”
“Then why do you work here if you’re so loaded?” Her accusing tone sounded desperate.
“I’m not an associate, beauty. My uncle owns this place.”
“Oh God.” Belle pondered. “I…I didn’t know about that.”
“You want something from me and you’ve got something I want. I think that’s an even trade. I can be your boyfriend as long as you want.” Armand leant forward. “And I’m good at it. You won’t be disappointed.”
Belle held her gaze on him evenly. “Your price is steep. I need to ask your other associates.”
So predictable, Armand mused. Sad-eyed beauty, all I want is to please you and put the smile back on your face. “You may try, but I highly doubt they will make a pact with you. They’ve seen you with me, and they know better than to dally with the owner’s nephew’s lady.”
Her lips thinned in an instant.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Belle. Pleasure and your companionship is all I want.” Armand steered her to the left side of the lounge, into door number one. “I’m not going to demand anything that you’re not comfortable with. Have a look. This is Level One, catering to our hetero guests who prefer traditional pleasures.” Armand gestured at the viewing glass on the door. Most activities in each level in Maison Plaisir could be observed through the rectangular enchanted mirror. Some patrons loved to share their pleasure with voyeurs and they had their kicks being watched while they engaged in intimate activities. Belle gasped when she saw men and women sprawled across the floor in various stages of pleasure, being serviced by two or three of Maison Plaisir’s associates.
She threw him a dirty look. “You call this traditional pleasure?”
“I believe this is what you call vanilla sex, is that what your people say?” Armand urged her to walk to door number two.
Belle cringed as soon as she saw the action on the viewing panel. Her discomfiture was so obvious.
Armand couldn’t help but cock a naughty smile. “Level Two caters for guests who prefer male to male interaction. But this is not what I had in mind with you. I just want to show it to you. Just in case you like to participate as a voyeur.”
“I’ll pass.”
“If you like women, you’re welcome to Level Three.”
“I’ll pass that too.”
“You’re so easy to predict.” Armand dragged her to door number four. “In here”—Armand tapped his finger to the mirror”—”we cater to our guests who crave discipline and pain.”
“Er…being whipped as foreplay is not my idea of pleasure.”
“So you agree to my terms?”
“I didn’t say that!”
Armand laughed. “Levels Five, Six and Seven cater to our guests who prefer unconventional pleasure. Edge play.”
“Edge play? Wait, I don’t want to know.”
“Well?”
Belle looked torn. “I…I don’t know. I need to think.”
“Why don’t you have a seat while I get you something to drink? You look as if you need more tea. Are you hungry?”