They grumble and swear under their breath, but they file out of my office. The guards trail after them to ensure they turn in their key cards and don’t steal company property.
I sink into my chair, mentally willing the mockups to burst into flames, but they don’t. So, I sweep them into my tiny trash can and stomp on them with my heel to make them fit.
It occurs to me that we are now wildly behind schedule. I need a new marketing team. Like, now. “Kelly!” I call out, forgetting to use the intercom. We didn’t have an intercom when it was just a couple of us working out of a dingy warehouse, and I’m still getting used to it.
My assistant pops her head through my door. “That was freaking awesome, Bree.” She glides back into my office and takes a seat across from me.
“Thanks. It felt a little brutal.”
“Hell no. They needed to go. You know Kevin hit on me in the break room the other day?”
“What?” I sit up straight, teeth grinding again.
“Stop that! You’re going to need dentures by the time you’re forty.” I’m not one hundred percent sure if she’s concerned about my molars, or if she just straight up hates teeth grinding. Either way, she’s not wrong. “Anyways, it’s fine, I kneed him in the nuts. By accident.”
“Accident?” I ask with a grin. “Never mind, don’t answer that. We need to hire out marketing until I can get a new team in place. Can you do some sleuthing?”
Kelly practically sparkles. Sleuthing is her specialty. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll find it,” she says, sitting taller in her chair.
“Okay… look for a boutique marketing firm. No big houses. Bonus points for firms that specialize in social marketing. Keep it quiet. I really don’t want it getting out that I canned the entire department in one go.”
Kelly scribbles on her notepad and hops up. “You got it,” she says cheerfully. I glance at the clock as she leaves. Jesus. 9:53 am. That’s it? I sigh and open my email, ready for round two. But my fingers freeze, hovering over my keyboard. At the top of my inbox is a message I’ve been waiting for. I click on it, my heart racing.
To: Brielle Guerrero
From: C.S. Entertainment
Subject: Welcome
Good morning Ms. Guerrero,
Thank you for your patience. Your application has been approved and your vetting complete. We are pleased to welcome you to Club Sin…
There are rules and procedures to read through, but I have to pause and catch my breath. Club Sin. Room after room of fantasies to lose myself in. A palace devoted to sexual fulfillment. I shiver just thinking about it. I’ve been on a dry spell for so long, I almost can’t remember what sex is like with an actual person. My vibrator collection is epic, but it’s not the same.
I struggle through my day, something I never do, but the itch to get out of here, to brave a new adventure keeps growing. I keep looking back at the email, losing an hour of productivity every single time. Because then I start Googling.
What do you wear to a sex club? What do you wear to a kink club? Sex club safety. How to approach a dom. How do you tell if someone is a dom? Ice cream delivery near me.
That last one was the inevitable end of my searches. Once the overwhelming landslide of internet advice became too much, ice cream seemed like the only logical choice. I’ve refrained from ordering about six pints today, and that alone should earn me a pat on the back.
Or… a good spanking? I bite my lip and glance at the time. Again. 4:02. I tap my foot, watching the sleek little digital clock on my desk. Still 4:02. I would swear up and down that the damn thing is broken if it didn’t match my wristwatch, phone, and computer.
“Kelly!” I holler, getting to my feet. She doesn’t answer, but then I remember that I sent her on a mission. Doesn’t matter. I’ve never played hooky a day in my life, but today is the day. I collect my things, dumping them unceremoniously into my bag, and go looking for my assistant.
I don’t have to go far. Kelly is sitting at her desk, headphones in, as she sends out feelers via email. I tap her on the shoulder, and she jumps, spinning her chair to face me as she yanks her headphones out.
“Are you okay?” She eyes my purse warily. “You don’t have any meetings today. Are you sick?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “I just need to take care of some personal stuff.”
Kelly looks at me like I’ve lost it. “Personal stuff? Okay body snatcher, where’d you hide my boss?”
“Very cute,” I retort, unable to hold my grin back. “I know, but honestly, I’m just not feeling it today.” She watches me leave, one eyebrow about an inch higher than the other.
I’m dying to get to Club Sin. This is it. I can feel it. The era of dating is done, at least it is for me. I don’t need romance. I don’t need or want a man to look after me. I just need to scratch an itch, and if there’s one place in the city I can find someone to scratch me, it’s Club Sin.