Touching Angel's Desires (8 page)

“Gillian and Greg have requested me personally this afternoon. They
feel none of my staff are satisfactory,” Angel informed her, not bothering to
keep her feelings out of her voice.

“Are we really that desperate to please them?”

“I would love to tell them both to go to hell, but they bring
Desires a great deal of business. And, you know, the customer is always right.”

“Even when they’re wrong!” Shannon completed the saying.

“Especially when they’re wrong,” Angel said with a grimace.

It also occurred to Angel that by keeping busy with the Matthews, it
would help to keep her mind off Dan. She glanced at her watch. One thirty. Dan
and Stacie would be well into their session by now. She tried to swallow the
lump in her throat that threatened to choke her.

“Of course I will happily be in charge for you. But I feel that they
will complain no matter what. I don’t think the person exists who could make
them happy.”

“I know, but I need to give it a try. If I cannot please them,
no-one will. Well, Desires is yours, for this afternoon at least.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

The two women went back out to the reception. Angel knew Shannon
would be fine. Angel didn’t tie herself to the club 24/7, she did allow herself
time off, but rarely on a Saturday. It was on the busiest days when problems
arose which required her personal attention.

Angel allowed herself to indulge in the pleasures of her own
club—what’s the point of managing a sex club if you didn’t—but only when it
wasn’t busy and she wouldn’t be missed. She always carried her cell phone for
emergencies, so, if she was needed, whatever—or whoever—she was doing would
immediately be dropped and she would go running. Desires was more than a job,
it was her life.

Angel walked back down to her office, glancing back once to see Shannon
talking to Bailey, no doubt filling her in. Once back at her desk, Angel
checked to see if the luxury room was available. It was, and she grabbed the
key from the cabinet of spares in her office to check the room was okay for
instant use—there was no time for a clean-up operation.

She rushed upstairs to the room, only giving brief replies to
regulars she passed on the way. She opened the door, flicked on the light
switch and gazed around the room. This was one of her favourites and she was
pleased to see the cleaners had not skimped. It was immaculate. The bed was made
perfectly in different shades of browns, from chocolate to beige. The room smelled
fresh and fragranced—clearly the cleaners had already been in. The room was one
of the oldest in the club. It was situated in the original building, with an
abundance of original features, including an old iron working fireplace, a
worked iron four-poster bed, antique furniture with cast iron handles and
hinges, and decorated with chocolate and cream wallpaper. A highly-polished
parquet floor strewn with thick rugs added to the sumptuous feel of the room
and a crystal chandelier hung from the high vaulted ceiling. One half of the
room was set out like a living room, with a leather corner sofa and matching
armchair, an antique coffee table in front of the fireplace, standard lamps in
the corners, and oil paintings on the walls.

Angel prowled around the room checking for dust, making sure
everything was perfect. She then headed to the en-suite. It was gleaming, to
her delight. She went back into the bedroom, stood in the centre of the room
and looked around, trying to get a few ideas as to what to use in the room.

Angel left the room and headed back downstairs, making the bondage
chamber her next destination. It was not currently in use so she was able to
collect the items she needed before leaving and heading back to the room. She
set everything in place, and lit a few scented candles around the room, wanting
the room to have a relaxed feel.

Once satisfied, she headed back to her flat and went to her wardrobe,
getting out her black PVC mini-dress and footwear. She cleaned and polished the
dress and footwear and laid them out. Angel prepared her makeup on her dressing
table, getting everything ready. She had a number of different ‘faces’ she
applied for different occasions. Today was an occasion for her
dominatrice
face, heavy on the mascara and smoky eyes, and
with a slash of red lipstick. Gillian and Greg would soon find out she wasn’t the
average woman they were dealing with, but Angel, the manager of Desires. Her
blood pumped fast around her body. Taking any of their shit was not on the menu
for today. She hoped Gillian was aware of what she had put herself and her
husband up for. Angel was not going to roll over and play dead and take their
crap—this girl had attitude and certainly wasn’t standing for any shit.

Angel walked back to her office. She rang Gillian’s room to make
sure she was still happy about later. Of course she was, much to Angel’s
annoyance.

“I am still waiting for my husband,” she informed Angel.

Angel called reception as soon as she ended the call with Gillian. “Hi,
Angel,” she heard Bailey say.

“Can you text me as soon as Mr. Matthews arrives,” she said, feeling
the pit of her stomach churning. The sooner they got started, the sooner it
would be over.

“Of course.”

Angel took a bath, examining her pussy in a magnifying mirror. She’d
only had a wax the other day so it was still smooth. She plucked out a couple
of hairs they’d missed, but on the whole she was happy. Once dry, she sat at
her dressing table. She straightened her hair before applying the dark dramatic
makeup, carefully blending grey and purple eye shadow, then applying black
mascara and thick black eyeliner. Her lips were full and luscious and the deep
red lipstick she applied next made them look positively sinful.

Angel put on her clothes, a pair of hold-up fishnets and the black PVC
microdress
with a zipper all the way down the front. She
stood in front of the mirror, lifting and arranging her breasts and pulling the
zipper partly down to create maximum cleavage. Then came the
footwear—thigh-high, buckled black boots with towering spike heels. She wanted
the Matthews to feel intimidated by her—she needed to put the point across to
them that she wasn’t easy and meant business.

She admired her body in the full-length mirror, staring hard into
her own eyes. Angel squinted her eyes to make them look evil and thinned her
lips, then smiled, pleased with the effect.

Angel collected her personal equipment, her favourite cat o’ nine
tails, and fragranced oil, placing them in her black bag along with her lace
handcuffs.

Her mobile buzzed. She picked it up and read the text.
Greg Matthews has just arrived
.

Angel inhaled a deep breath and cleared her throat before calling
Gillian’s room.

“Hello, it’s Angel. What time would you like to begin?” she asked.

“About twenty minutes,” came the curt reply.

Angel gave Gillian the room number so they all could meet there. She
picked up her little bag and left the office, slowly walking through the
reception area where Shannon and Bailey were still working hard. They both shot
sympathetic smiles at her. For the first time since her first experiences here
at Desires she was nervous, knots in her tummy, heart racing, feeling sick to
the core. The thought of having sex with that couple disgusted her, and she’d
had sex with a lot of different people. She sighed, wishing there was another
solution. But she had to face this, regardless of her own wishes, if only for
Desires and its reputation.

She drew herself up. It was nothing she didn’t expect from her
staff—they had to have sex with people they weren’t necessarily attracted to.
If they could do it…

She made her way to the room, strutting her stuff, practising her evil
and bitchy look. She arrived at the bedroom door and paused, her hand on the
door handle.
Were they here already? Only
one way to find out.
She opened the door and entered the room. It smelled
lovely—the scent of the fragranced candles had filled the large space, but it
was still subtle, not overpowering. The room was unoccupied and she blew out a
breath of relief. She sat on the dark brown leather sofa, waiting for the
dreaded couple.

Angel allowed herself to think of Desires, wondering if everything
else in the building was running okay, hating not being in control. Shannon had
covered before when she was on holiday or on her days off, normally a Tuesday, the
quietest day of the week after the long weekenders had gone. Desires was always
open, seven days a week. Some couples used Desires as a holiday destination. For
that, they got a good package deal, room, facilities, pool, full use of all
facilities if they booked all-inclusive, or they could just book the room and
pay for extras, depending on what the couple or individual needed. Desires had
all the daily issues of a major hotel and leisure centre as well as a sex club.

She looked at the clock—they would be arriving shortly. She went
into the bathroom to check herself over once more in the full-length mirrors
that lined the room. She turned around, looking at her rear over her shoulder.
Her bottom was rounded and pert. Angel pouted her lips and narrowed her eyes.
The Matthews were not going to know what had hit them.

A knock came at the door. Angel took her time walking over, checking
the room as she walked through. She stood before the closed door, counting
slowly to five before opening it. Gillian entered the room immediately, barging
past her. Greg followed, catching Angel’s eyes and nodding slightly in
greeting.

Unexpectedly, Gillian was dressed in jeans and a shirt, not looking
sexy in the slightest. She was a middle-aged woman, tall, thin, not pretty at
all. Her husband was in his late forties. His dark hair was clearly dyed as it
had that deep solid tone about it, and there was not a speck of grey. He had a
medium built body with the beginnings of a paunch which she could see clearly
through the black mesh shirt which was all he was wearing, apart from the black
thong which barely covered his genitals.

Angel prided herself on being non-judgemental. All sorts of people
used the facilities of Desires. Some of them were attractive, some less so. Just
because someone was unattractive, didn’t mean they couldn’t have or enjoy sex.
But, although she often enjoyed herself with the club members, she only picked
those she found attractive. This pair, she did not. She forced a smile.

“How are you both?” Angel asked.

“Fine, thank you,” answered Gillian. She went over to the armchair
and dragged it closer to the bed, before taking a seat. Greg went over to the
bed and sat on the edge facing his wife. He stared down at the wooden floor.

Angel watched Gillian’s eyes flicking around the room. She prepared
herself for a comment. She stood tall. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, it is fine. There is my husband—do as you please with him,”
Gillian said.

“Are you not joining us?” Angel asked, unsure if she understood the
situation.

“No, I would like you to have sex with him as I watch.”

Angel was surprised and a little annoyed. She had expected a threesome—Gillian
never mentioned that she would not be participating.

“Certainly,” was all she said. Greg glanced at her, then back at the
floor. She thought quickly, deciding to stay with the theme she had planned. “The
safe word is ‘velvet’. If there is anything you’re not happy with, just say
that word and I will stop.” He gave a tiny nod. “Respond to me as Mistress,”
she commanded.

“Yes, Mistress,” came the whispered response.

Angel went over to the dressing table where she had placed her
accessories. She stared at the wall, pissed off, annoyed that Gillian would be just
watching the whole event. Maybe she was planning on getting involved later. Putting
on her Mistress face, she took hold of her whip, grasping it firmly in her
hand. She spun around seeing Greg staring at her. The second he noticed her
look at him, he dropped his gaze to the floor again. Angel scowled. She was going
to show these two she was not to be messed with.

She whacked the whip down in the palm of her left hand, making a
cracking sound. Greg flicked a glance up at her from beneath his lowered
lashes. She began to stalk toward him. His face altered with excited
anticipation.

“I want you to talk exceptionally dirty to him,” Gillian interjected.

Angel rolled her eyes discreetly. So much for her being in charge!
She wished it were Gillian she was about to abuse. She would enjoy calling her
all the names she could think of.

Angel made harsh eye contact with Greg, putting her hands on her
hips. The whip cords dangled at her waist as she decided on what she was going
to do with this person who needed punishment. Greg’s eyes were wide open.

“Take off your thong, slave!” she ordered him.

Wordlessly he obeyed, standing up to slide the black thong down his
legs and dropping it on the floor before taking a seat again on the edge of the
bed. His balls dangled between his thighs, his erect cock out of sight, hidden
by his belly as he crouched in a submissive posture on the edge of the bed. His
legs were white and hairy. Angel suppressed a revolted shudder. She slapped the
whip against the top of her boot, scowling at him. His eyes widened with semi-fearful
anticipation. She took a step closer to Greg, who watched her. She licked her
lips slowly and deliberately, rolling her tongue around the luscious scarlet
pillows.