Chapter 3

Once I was back home, I spent the next few hours packing and making preparations. The sight of my belongings scattered around the room, accompanied the sound of Mac making noise in his cage, the rodent adding to my already growing sense of anxiety.

I'd begun to think the clock was never going to strike seven, and when it did, I hastily grabbed my belongings and Mac's cage, then taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the familiarity of my front door. A sudden sense of sadness swamped me as I gazed around my yard for the last time. The sun was setting over the horizon, beginning to streak the sky with the purples of sunset.

With a sigh, I began making my way towards the softly idling town car that sat in my drive. As I neared the car, the driver, who was patiently holding the back door open for me, bowed his head slightly. Closing my eyes, I heaved a breath,  then leaning closer to Mac's cage, I whispered, "This is it, buddy."

Seconds later, I slipped inside the town car, and the driver closed the door behind me with a soft click. With the sound, the reality that I was leaving behind everything I had known slammed into me. Tears welled in my eyes, and raising a hand, I silently wiped them away as I watched the landscape go by.

I couldn't help but wonder if I’d be able to handle whatever Alex had in store for me—I was a thief, and I had no idea of how to do anything otherwise.

The flight was a mix of nerves and excitement and I tried distracting myself by reading a magazine, but the words kept blurring together from the moisture in my eyes.

It seemed like forever before the plane finally touched down in the Big Easy, and the humidity hit me like a wall as I stepped off the plane, stealing my breath. Christ it was muggy. The thought fleetingly passed through my mind as, inhaling the scent of magnolias and spices, I stepped into the terminix.

Without much effort, I spotted a man waiting for me, holding a sign with my name on it, and after leading me to another black car, he settled me into the back seat.

As the driver maneuvered through the city, I peered out at the vibrant life outside the windows; I definitely wasn't in Chicago any longer.

A short time later, we pulled up before the gates of a sprawling mansion, nestled in the heart of the historic French Quarter, and I stared at it, awestruck. The wrought iron gates creaked open, and we began driving down a rock driveway leading to the grand entrance of a sprawling masterpiece of history.

The closer we pulled toward the place, the more my heart pounded, forcing me to take a deep breath, and calm myself before the organ jumped right out of my chest. 

↜↜ 🖤🖤↝↝

As the driver unloaded my luggage, I took in the grandeur of the place. It was a world away from the tiny house I'd called home. The ivy-covered walls whispered of secrets and sins, the outside pole lights that seemed to date back centuries, cast eerie shadows across the courtyard making the place look spooky and ancient.

Finally, drawing my eyes away from the grandeur of the yard, I turned to face the porch, and found Alex waiting for me at the door, his eyes gleaming in the soft light.

"Welcome to your new home, Elysia," he murmured, his voice a smooth caress that sent a shiver down my spine. Stepping forward across the wide expanse of the wraparound porch, he took my hand, and led me into the house, the coolness a welcome reprise from the heat outside.

As we entered the foyer, I managed a quick glance around, quickly taking in the mix of opulence and dark mystery, before climbing a staircase, Alex showed me to my room; a luxurious suite with a four-poster bed and a view of the courtyard.

Dropping my luggage just inside the doorway, he murmured, "Rest up. Tomorrow, your training begins."

As the door clicked shut behind him, I was left alone with my thoughts and a newfound sense of unease. This was going to be no ordinary job. Not even close.

Later, as I lay in the grand bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin, I wondered if I could handle this new life-style. I was a criminal, not a club-fly, and I definitely wasn't a BDSM guru. Turning over, I pulled the covers up to my chin, praying I could handle what came my way.

The next morning, I was woken by a soft knock on the door. A woman, dressed in a stylish black dress stood in the doorway. She introduced herself as Mistress Ainsley, informing me she would be my trainer and guide in the art of being a hostess. Her eyes, cold, calculating, swept over me and I felt a tingle of uncertainty mingle with excitement.

"You're not what I expected," she stated, her voice a smoky purr. "But Alex has a knack for choosing the right people. Now, first off, as a hostess, you will observe and make sure all the servers and clients are safe. But you will not participate in any of the acts. Understood?"

I nodded, the thought of watching the BDSM scenes making me feel both curious and nervous. Mistress Ainsley, having noticed my expression, chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Will I? I wondered.

We started with the basics; serving drinks, mingling with the guests, and ensuring everyone was comfortable. "Remember," she instructed, her eyes locked onto mine, "the key to being a good hostess is knowing when to blend into the background and when to be the center of attention. You must be observant, attentive to every need, yet unobtrusive."

As we strolled through the opulent walls of the club, I was surprised to learn the basement had been renovated into the club. Mistress Ainsley pointed out various rooms that would serve as my classroom for the evening. Each one held a different scene, a different set of rules.

In one, a couple was engaged in a passionate embrace, the woman's cries of pleasure muffled by a velvet pillow. In another, a man was being whipped, his skin glowing red under the soft light of the candles.

"You will learn the art of reading people," Mistress Ainsley continued, her voice low, mesmerizing. "You must be able to discern their desires, their limits without them ever having to say a word."

As time passed, I found the training rigorous, but I was eager to learn, to absorb every piece of knowledge Mistress Ainsley was willing to impart. She taught me about the various implements used in the scenes, the psychology behind submission and dominance, and the subtle cues that could make or break the engagement.

"Your role is to enhance the experience," she explained, her voice taking on a softer, almost seductive tone. "To provide a safe space for our guests to explore their darkest fantasies."