Page 2 of After Midnight
Ronnie's charming ass rose dramatically. "Sorry, Madam. I'll be a good girl from now on," she teased playfully.
Madam rolled her eyes and smirked.
Ronnie pressed her hand to her chest. "Veronica, but everyone calls me Ronnie."
I shook my head, smirked, and stood next. "Gianna or GG for short."
Madam’s gaze shifted to the three women sitting beside us.
A tall caramel-skinned woman with body for days stood first. Her locs were piled high on top of her head and she carried herself like she already knew she was the finest thing in the room.
“Wisdom,” she said smoothly. "Call me Wisdom."
Oh, I liked her already. I smiled and our eyes met. She returned it.
Next to her a petite woman, brown-skinned with big brown eyes and a nervous smile stood.
“Hi. I'm Lena,” she said softly with a small wave before sitting.
Then the last woman stood. Long straight hair. Bronze complexion. Perfect makeup. The kind of face that probably never heard the word 'no'a day in her life. Her eyes swept over me and Ronnie like she was already sizing up competition.
Ronnie reared her head back. My brow rose.
“Bianca,” she said.
Her tone was sweet, but her expression wasn’t.
Ronnie muttered underneath her breath. “I can tell she gon' piss me off.”
"Agreed," I mumbled.
Bianca smirked at me before sitting back down gracefully.
Madam launched into her orientation spiel. “…Clients are vetted before they ever step foot inside,” she said. “Background checks, financial verification, and health screenings. Any client who violates my rules is removed permanently.”
And when it came time for the rules, we all straightened in our seats.
She waited, her sharp eyes landing on each of us for a few seconds before she continued. “Listen carefully ladies and commit these rules to your memory." She held up one finger. "Rule number one—no drugs inside my establishment.” Hergaze swept across us again. “If a client arrives intoxicated or under the influence beyond reason, security removes him.” She raised another finger. “Rule number two, protection ismandatory. Every time. No exceptions.” A third finger lifted. “Rule number three—discretion. You will never discuss a client’s identity outside these walls. Many of the men who come here have reputations to protect.”
Ronnie leaned closer to me again. “Translation—married men be in here.”
I elbowed her lightly.
Madam lifted a fourth finger. “And the final rule,” her voice hardened. “You donotbecome emotionally attached to clients.”
The room went quiet.
“Clients come here for the fantasy,” she continued. “Not love. If you forget that, you will lose money… or worse.”
Something about the way she said it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
She clapped her hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Alright, ladies. That concludes orientation. Now let’s take a look at where you’ll be working.” She turned on her heel and we all followed.
This wasn’t my first time doing sex work. This work wasn't for the faint of heart that's for sure. But it paid the bills and the money was fast. Me and Ronnie had been in the game about five years now.
We started out small—online content only. We progressed to stripping at parties for the dope boys and ballers over on the Westside of Vegas. The kind of parties where the music was too loud, the liquor was too strong, and niggas were always throwing money like they had something to prove.
We progressed from that to more elite parties—white collar types who were fans of our online content. One of our regulars—a dude who liked to talk more than he liked to touch, toldme about this place one night while we were smoking on his balcony. He said his auntie ran an elite brothel tucked away outside the city in Nye County calledSiren House.
