The Black Door (3 page)

“Can I drop you somewhere?” Ariel asked Mason.

“Just take me back to The W, if you don’t mind. I’m meeting a friend there.”

Ariel wondered if he was going on another date, or just having a casual drink at the Whiskey Bar. “Sure, no problem.” She looked into his brown eyes. “And, Mason, thanks for a lovely evening.”

“It was my pleasure, Ms. Vaughn.” He smiled warmly.

“Please call me Renée.”

He reached inside his breast pocket and took out a business card. “Renée.” He said her name slowly, letting the syllables roll off of his tongue. “What a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman.”

Her cheeks warmed from the compliment and she blushed. “Thank you, Mason.”

He slid the card into her hand. “If you’re ever in the need for more than an escort, please call the number on the back and tell them that I referred you.”

Ariel didn’t know what to say, so she just said, “Thanks.” Before getting out of the car, Mason brushed the side of her face with a soft kiss. “Take care, Renée.”

Ariel put her hand to her cheek once he was gone and savored the feeling of his touch. His parting words rang in her ear, and she looked down at the business card he had given her. The front was highly glossed in black with a picture of a door, and nothing else. She flipped the card over, and on the back was a telephone number embossed in scarlet lettering. “What a unique-looking card.” She fingered the smooth surface of the card and thought about throwing it away, but slid it into her purse instead.

MASON BREEZED
through the lobby of The W as if he were the owner of the trendy boutique hotel. He bypassed the Whiskey Bar on the left, where singles mingled trying to pick up fresh meat for the evening, and the Lobby Bar on the right, where out-of-town businessmen huddled over cocktails, and made a bee-line straight to the bank of elevators that led to the guest quarters. Alone in the elevator on the ride up, he retrieved a key card from the breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket, looked down at the piece of plastic, and fingered it lightly.

Earlier that evening before his date with Ariel, he had gotten a call from another date. Well, it really wasn’t a date, per se. She was an old client who was in town for the weekend. Mason had just stepped out of the shower when his cell phone rang.

“Well, hello there,” she whispered seductively into the receiver.

Not recognizing the voice, he looked at the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the phone number either. “Hello yourself,’’ he said in a deep baritone voice, trying to hide his uncertainty.

“Do you still look as good as you sound?” she asked, wasting no time.

Mason half smiled and unconsciously ran his hand across his ripped abs. “Even better.”

“I’d like to be the judge of that,” she said, with an overtly sexual innuendo.

“Is that right?” He grinned.

“That’s absolutely right. I remember the first time I gave you the once-over. You had just started working at The Black Door and were as green as The Incredible Hulk.” She chuckled slightly.

The moment she mentioned The Black Door, he knew exactly who was on the other end of the phone.

IT HAD BEEN
his first week working as a “server” at the club. Though he had had several lovers in his lifetime, this was the first time that he was being paid to perform and the thought made him a little nervous. Rock, a seasoned server, was showing him the ropes when two older women came into the Leopard Bar, one of the club’s signature lounges. Mason notice how her peachy pale skin was in stark contrast to the flowing black chiffon chemise that she wore. Her platinum blonde hair was cut short, which enhanced the black mask with paved crystals. And to complete the look, she wore a pair of black stilettos. She was a combination of sex, sophistication, and class, and he noticed her immediately.

Nodding in her direction, Mason asked Rock, “Who’s that?”

“She’s one of our elite clients from out of town, and every time she comes into the city, she pays us a visit. From what I hear she’s married to a powerful bigwig and has big bucks.”

Since Mason was a struggling student on a budget, his ears instantly perked up at the mere mention of cash. She wasn’t in his age range, but her body was tight nonetheless. Besides, he thought that if he could get her interested, then she would request him whenever she came to The Black Door. And a request meant that he was in demand, which translated to more hours at the club, which translated to more income coming in. “Between you and me, I bet I can help Mrs. Big Bucks part with some of that discretionary cash,” he said half jokingly.

“Go for it, stud,” Rock said, egging him on.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Mason casually strolled up to the bar where she and her friend were sitting having a drink. Though he was a newbie, Mason knew that his toned body was perfect and that he could please his partner in more ways than one. Once he was within earshot he deepened his baritone voice into an even lower register and said, “Ladies.”

Hearing the sexy voice behind them, they both swiveled around at the same time to see who owned the seductive Barry White voice.

“Well hello,” she spoke up first, checking out his exposed six-pack and the silk G-string, which showcased his well-defined manhood.

Mason watched as she surveyed his body The way her eyes roamed up and down his muscular frame, he knew without a doubt that he had piqued her curiosity and that she was indeed interested. He wasted no time sidling up to her side, and purposefully positioned himself so that his groin lightly touched her outer thigh. “Let me order you another cocktail,” he said, noticing that her glass was nearly empty

“Only if you will have a drink with us,” she answered.

“And have him come over to keep me company,” her friend added, motioning to Mason’s mentor.

“Sure,” he said, and waved Rock over.

Once the two men were standing side-by-side, the women sized them both up as if trying to decide who would make a better lover. Mason knew the drill and flexed his pectorals, then tightened his abdominals so that his six-pack instantly transformed into an eight-pack.

His intended prey reached out and touched the ripples punctuating his stomach, gasping slightly at his hard midsection. She turned to her friend and smiled. “This one is mine,” she said, running her manicured nails up and down his Herculean arm.

Knowing that he had won the unofficial contest, Mason wasted no time showing her that she had made the right decision. “Come on, let’s go to a booth,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the back of the bar where they could have some privacy. The rear of the lounge was extremely dark, which allowed clients the freedom to get wild without an audience.

“So . . .” she slipped her hand in between his legs once they were seated. “Are you padded?”

Mason knew that some of the servers used tube socks as padding to fill out their G-string, but Mother Nature had supplied him with enough “padding” for two men. He took her hand and guided it inside of his waistband. “Does this feel artificial to you?”

A slight gasp escaped her lips as her hand settled on his heated mound of rising flesh. She instinctively began massaging his semi-erect penis until it responded to her touch. “I want to feel all ten inches inside of me,” she said when he was fully erect.

Mason lifted her dress to find that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He then slowly rubbed his middle finger against the tip of her clitoris; with her low moans, he could tell that he had hit her sweet spot. Her moans were barely audible, but he wanted to make her scream so that she’d be his personal client. Maybe if he was lucky, she’d forgo coming to the club when in town, and come straight to him instead. Mason pushed the table back slightly so that he could ease down between her legs. Once on his knees, he began sucking on her engorged clit and at the same time fingering her pussy until he heard her breath quicken and her moans get louder. He looked up at her for that knowing look of approval, and sure enough her face told the story—her eyes were closed, her mouth was open, and her tongue was licking her bottom lip—the story of a woman who was on the verge of a climax. “Cum for me baby,” he demanded.

She didn’t say a word, just grabbed hold of his shaved head and jutted her hips farther out so that his finger went deeper into her pussy.

“I’m going to give you the best finger fuck you ever had.” He then put three fingers inside of her hungry vagina and began pumping faster and faster until he could feel her juices oozing out.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it, that’s it! I’m . . . I’m . . . cum
ing
!” she screamed.

Damn, that was quick. If she’s this easy to please, then I know she’ll have me on speed dial once she gets a taste of Mr. Big,
Mason thought, and smiled slyly

That was a few years ago before he stopped working inside The Black Door to concentrate on med school. But he was right, once he laid the soul pole on Mrs. Big Bucks, she was hooked and called him whenever she came to New York. He hadn’t seen her in a while and then she’d suddenly stopped calling. He thought that maybe her husband had gotten wind of her secret membership to The Black Door and put an end to her scandalous New York outings.

“
I HAVEN’T HEARD
from you in so long, I thought you had forgotten about me.”

“How could I forget about you and Mr. Big?” she said, with lust in her voice. “I’m in town for the weekend, and would love to get reacquainted with you guys. What are you doing this evening?”

A smile brightened Mason face. He had just emptied his bank account paying for tuition and could surely use one of her generous tips. “I have an appointment earlier this evening, but I should be done by ten at the latest. Where are you staying?”

“At The W Hotel on Lexington, room 916.”

“That’s perfect. Leave the key card at the front desk with my name on it, and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Good, because we have a lot of catching up to do,” Mrs. Big Bucks purred into the phone.

After his date with Ariel, Mason made a beeline to the hotel and up to her suite. He inserted the key card and let himself inside. He looked around the dimly lit living-room area and could see that she had ordered (and drunk) a bottle of Dom Perignon, which sat empty, upside down in the champagne bucket. Looking at the evidence, he knew that she was liquored up and waiting in the bedroom to get fucked, so he began to get ready for “work.” He kicked off his tuxedo loafers, unbuckled his belt, and slipped out of his pants and boxers. He then unfastened the studs on his shirt and removed his Cartier cuff links (a gift from a client). Standing there in the buff, Mason looked down at Mr. Big, who wasn’t so big in his sleeping position. “Wake up, man, you got work to do,” he whispered into the air. Since she hadn’t seen him in a while, he wanted to make sure to rock her world the second he stepped into her lair, so he grabbed his dick and began stroking it until it jetted out like a lightning rod. “Now we’re ready.” He smiled and strutted down the short hallway to the bedroom.

“It’s about time you got here,” she said, sounding annoyed once he entered the room. She was lying on the bed, wearing only a necklace.

Mason’s eyes zeroed in on the necklace, and he figured that it must have been at least ten carats or more.
Damn, she got it like that?
he thought. He knew that her husband was rich, but he didn’t realize how rich until now.

“Nice necklace,” he said, commenting on the bling adorning her neck.

She fingered the exquisite piece, and said, “Thanks. It was an anniversary gift from my husband.”

“That’s nice, but I got an even better gift,” he said, stroking Mr. Big.

She spread her legs. “Well get over here and give it to me.”

In two steps Mason was across the room and on top of her. He pushed her thighs apart and entered her with such force that she ran her fingernails down his back, puncturing his skin. From past experiences, he knew that she liked it rough. She’d told him on more than one occasion that she liked it hard and fast, and tonight he’d give the lady in the diamond necklace just want she wanted.

MERI RENICK
had to be the wealthiest woman that Ariel knew. She not only married well, but also parlayed her first divorce settlement into several lucrative real estate investments. And when her second husband died, leaving her hundreds of millions, that fortune only added to her “Trump” money. Ariel was having lunch at Meri’s lavish Park Avenue penthouse for an afternoon of girly chitchat.

The doorman knew Ariel well since she came to visit on a regular basis. “Good afternoon, Ms. Vaughn,” he said, tipping the bib of his cap.

“Hi, Frank, how’s your family?”

“Fine, thanks. My son is on his way to college and my youngest just finished first grade.” He laughed.

“Now that’s what I call a wide spread!” She smiled.

“Keeps me young.” He grinned. “I’ll tell Ms. Renick you’re on the way up.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

Ariel rode to the twenty-first floor, and when the elevator opened, a tall handsome gentleman with a black briefcase was waiting by the doors and startled her. There were only two apartments per floor, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that he had come from Meri’s lair.

“Excuse me,” he said, as he brushed past her onto the waiting elevator.

Ariel nodded in return and made her way to Meri’s apartment. “I think you need a revolving door,” she said, once her friend opened the door.

Meri chuckled, knowing exactly what Ariel was alluding to. ‘Tronic you should mention that. I’ve already called the contractor and he’s starting construction on the new door tomorrow.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Ariel walked through the opulent marble foyer into the adjoining living room. After her husband died, Meri had the masculine wood-paneled living area completely gutted. The result was a feminine, ultramodern, stark-white palace with crystal accents through out. “What did Jacques whip up today? I’m starving.” Like most wealthy New Yorkers, Meri had a complete staff that included a chef, a housekeeper, and a driver.

“Grilled ahi tuna over field greens, and—”

Before Meri could finish, Ariel turned up her nose at the ultra-healthy Atkins-like fare. She was a big girl and loved to eat, and couldn’t understand all the hoopla over a few simple high-calorie pleasures like potatoes, pasta, and bread. Growing up with a house full of foster siblings, Ariel had to fight for every morsel, and she vowed that once she grew up, she’d never deprive herself of a meal, no matter how many calories she consumed.

“You can get that silly look off of your face. I know how you love your carbs, so I had Jacques mash up a few potatoes with fresh garlic and tons of butter just like you like them. But I’m sticking to the tuna and a salad.” She smoothed her stomach. “I’ve got to keep my girly figure, so the boys won’t stray.”

“And I take it that was one of your ‘boys’ I saw at the elevator?”

Meri walked over to the cocktail buffet. “No, it wasn’t.” She poured them each a dirty martini. “Actually, he was from Harry Winston; he came by to pick up my jewelry from last night. And speaking of last night. . .” She turned around and gave Ariel a devilish look.

“What about last night?” Ariel smirked. She knew exactly what Meri was getting at, but remained coy.

“How was your ‘date’?” she asked, handing Ariel a chilled martini with three blue-cheese-stuffed olives.

She took a sip of her drink and said over the edge of the glass, “Oh, you mean Dr. Anthony?”

“Doctor my ass! But I like the cover; I’ve got to use that one. Didn’t I tell you that that escort service was the best?” She sat on the sofa with drink in hand. “They have some of the hottest men I’ve ever seen.” She bit down on her bottom lip for emphasis. “And that ‘doctor’ of yours was a hottie.”

“And smart too,” Ariel added. “He’s actually a medical student, and is just working as an escort part-time to pay for school.”

“Aren’t they all?” Meri smirked. “That’s nice, but I want some juicy details. How did the night end? Did he try to seduce you? Or better yet, did you try to seduce him?” she asked, relaxing back on the overstuffed cushions, readying herself for a blow-by-blow recap of the evening.

“Not everybody kisses and tells,” Ariel teased.

“You live vicariously though me all the time—”

Ariel cut her off. “That’s only because you eagerly volunteer to tell me
all
of the intimate details about your dates.”

“Well, be that as it may, now it’s finally my turn to sit back and

listen since you had a hot date for once, instead of spending another boring evening with boring Preston.”

“Preston is not boring. He’s just busy, that’s all.” Ariel had had her share of young, good-looking men, and they always seemed to disappoint her in one way or another, but Preston was her rock. Even though he was preoccupied with his career, she could count on him to always be there. And growing up without a father, she wanted and needed the constant stability that he provided.

“Busy? Boring? What’s the difference?” She reached over and nudged Ariel on the knee. “Come on, tell me, did you kiss those luscious lips and feel him up?”

Ariel laughed slightly. “Meri, you’re one old horny broad.”

“What can I say? Sex keeps me young. You should try it sometimes; now stop stalling and give up the details.”

“He kissed me, but only on the cheek,” she reached inside her purse, “and then gave me this, and said to call if I wanted more than an escort.” She handed Meri the card.

At the sight of the glossy black business card, a wide, devilish grin spread across Meri’s face. “Oh, yes, The Black Door.”

Ariel watched Meri’s expression and was now more curious than ever. “What’s The Black Door?”

“The question should be, What isn’t The Black Door?” Meri answered, raising her perfectly arched brow.

Ariel looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Hold on to your platinum and pearls, because what I’m about to tell you will probably send you into shock.”

“Stop the dramatics and just tell me.”

“It’s a club,” she said mysteriously.

The suspense was killing Ariel. “What type of club?”

“An adults-only club for women.”

“You mean a strip club, like Chippendales?”

Meri drained the last of her drink, as if she needed the alcohol

to help her explain the uniqueness of the club. “Chippendales is child’s play compared to The Black Door. First of all, it’s for members only, but not everyone is accepted. You have to be referred. They do a thorough background check, to make sure you’re not an undercover policewoman, and then they give every member a blood test, to ensure that everyone is healthy and disease free.”

“Why all the precautions?” Ariel wondered.

“So the members can be free to walk on the wild side. And to ensure anonymity, everyone is fitted with a custom-designed mask.”

Ariel was now perched on the edge of the sofa, her interest totally piqued, wanting to know more. “Why wear a mask, if they do such a thorough background check?”

“You see, my dear, some of wealthiest, most high-powered women in the world are members of this exclusive club, women who can afford anything under the sun, except a scandal spread across the front page of the
Post.
And with the security of a mask, they feel free to indulge in all of the various activities that the club has to offer.”

“What kind of activities?” she asked, like an inquisitive schoolgirl yearning for knowledge. Ariel wasn’t a prude, but had only had a handful of lovers in her lifetime, and none of them were very creative under the covers. Preston was her most passionate lover and had taught her positions that she’d never seen before, but she still felt that there was a whole world of activities and positions that she knew nothing about, and she was curious to hear all about it.

Meri hesitated for a moment. “How would I know?” she said

slyly.

“Because if I had to bet, I’d say that you are a member in good standing. Now tell me what goes on at The Black Door,” she said, scooting even closer to the edge of the sofa.

“Let’s just say that the club offers everything from ménage à trois to lesbian liaison.” She fanned her hand across her face. “To
whatever
your wildest dreams may be.”

Meri’s explanation knocked Ariel from her perch on the edge of the couch and sent her reeling back onto the plump cushions. “Wow,” she exhaled. “I thought places like that only existed in triple-X movies.”

“Well, I’m here to tell you that The Black Door is as real as it gets.” She returned the card. “Keep this in a safe place, in case of a sexual emergency.”

Ariel put the card on the table. “I don’t need it. Preston will be home tonight to answer my nine-one-one,” she said, proudly. During their lengthy relationship, Ariel had never cheated on Preston, and she didn’t intend to start now.

Meri picked up the card and slid it back into Ariel’s purse. “Don’t be so hasty; only a few select people are offered this card. And if you’re in possession of one, trust me, it’s like gold.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

After leaving Meri’s apartment two hours later, Ariel stopped by La Perla to buy some sexy lingerie for that night. She’d planned an intimate dinner at her condo, followed by “dessert.” On her way home, she ordered two meals from Table for Two, a gourmet takeout service, instead of slaving in the kitchen over a hot stove. Her next call was to Preston.

“Hey, honey, how did your meeting go yesterday with the senator?” she asked.

“Everything went fine. I’ll tell you all about it tonight. I don’t want to go into the details over the phone. Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I thought we’d
eat
in tonight,” she said with a devilish tone.

“Good idea; I’m really tired,” he responded, not picking up on the double entendre.

“Not too tired, I hope,” she said suggestively. “I’ll see you around seven.”

“Sounds good,” he said, and hung up.

Once she returned home, Ariel took a long hot bath and then slipped into her new teddy. The lavender lace one-piece with spaghetti straps barely left anything to the imagination. She purposely bought the lingerie a size too small, so it tightly hugged her breasts with her nipples protruding through the thin silk fabric. Her naked, round rear end pushed through the thonged teddy; she looked in the mirror and slapped her butt.

“This big ass should reenergize him.” She smiled.

The buzzer rang as she stepped into a pair of Ostrich mules and sauntered to the door.

“Wow, you look good enough to eat,” he greeted her.

She did a slow pivot, so he could get the full effect. “Glad you approve.”

He dropped his briefcase and grabbed her fleshy ass, pulling her in close and giving her a deep French kiss. Preston missed Ariel’s kisses and the touch of her. Unlike his ex-wife, who was frigid and used sex as a manipulation tool, Ariel was just the opposite. She was always ready to please him, and he adored her spontaneity. Preston hadn’t been devoting much time to their relationship as of late, because of his career, but tonight he’d planned on making up for lost time.

Ariel hungrily kissed him back, while grinding into his rising penis. She could feel him getting harder with each thrust of her tongue. She began to unbuckle his belt, ready for a night of long overdue passion. But the doorbell rang, stopping them in their tracks.

“It must be dinner.” She panted. “Open the door for them; I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, giving Preston one last kiss.

He straightened up his clothes. “Okay,” he said, and slapped her naked butt.

When Ariel returned to the living room a few minutes later, Preston was sitting on the sofa, eating directly from the black plastic container. “I was going to serve the food on a plate,” she said, tersely.

“Sorry, honey, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since early this morning,” he said, taking a large bite of filet mignon.

The last thing on Ariel’s mind was food; she wanted to start where they had left off. Her juices were still flowing and the beef she wanted was between his legs, not in some plastic container. She leaned down in front of him so that her breast fell out of the teddy and swung free. “Come on, baby, nibble on these instead,” she said, rubbing her nipples.

Preston looked at her and said, “I will in a minute. Now come over here and eat before the food gets cold.”

Ariel tucked herself back into her teddy and plopped herself down on the couch out of frustration. She picked over her dinner, while Preston devoured his meal. He looked over at her and noticed her change in attitude. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Because I’m not hungry anymore, I’m
horny!”
she exclaimed.

“Trust me, I am too, and I promise that we’ll make love all night, just let me get some nourishment in me, so that I can rock your world.” He smiled and pecked her on the lips.

“Well, all right, since you put it that way,” she said, and picked up her fork and began nibbling.

Preston finished eating first, and laid his head on the back of the sofa to rest his eyes for just a second, but a second turned into a minute, and before long he had nodded off into a light snore.