Page 3 of After Midnight
Legitimate. Members only. Clean. Discreet.
Everybody who worked there got tested every thirty days. Same for the clients. No randoms walking in off the street either. You had to know somebody who knew somebody to even hear about Madam’s establishment.
Soon as he said that my ears perked up. Because the one thing about this line of work, safety was priceless. Of course I had to bring Ronnie with me. We’d been moving together since freshman year of high school. Wherever I went, she went. Package deal.
Madam agreed to interview us. The moment we walked into her office I could tell she liked what she saw. Ronnie looked like a video vixen on her worst day, and I’d been blessed enough to never have to struggle for attention either. But Madam wasn’t sloppy about her business. Our looks might get us through the door, but they wouldn’t keep us there.
She asked abouteverything—specifically about our history, boundaries, and health.
Sexual history was the first concern. We had to consent to a physical exam and get tested before anything else moved forward. That part didn’t bother us. Me and Ronnie didn’t play about protection.
Then Madam hit us with what felt like a damn psychological evaluation. Question after question about our mental health, how we handled difficult clients, whether we could keep our personal feelings separate from the job. Basically, making sure we weren’t crazy or clingy.
We signed a ton of paperwork. And once our background checks were cleared and the test results came back clean, Madam finally gave us the green light. The set up was simple.Sixty percent of what we earned was ours to keep. And in exchange, we got access to a roster of elite clients and a controlled environment where we didn’t have to worry about being drugged, robbed, or assaulted by some dude who thought a stack of twenties meant he owned you.
Compared to the chaos we’d been dealing with before…it felt like an upgrade.
So yeah…me and Ronnie were more than on board.
I looked around in admiration as Madam led us around the brothel. The hallway outside the lounge was dim and warm, lit by gold wall sconces that cast soft shadows along the velvet wallpaper. Everything about the place felt quiet, expensive, and controlled.
Ronnie leaned toward me. “Girl,” she whispered. “This place is luxurious. I'm 'bout to be rolling in money like Scrooge McDuck.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing.
Madam continued walking. “This establishment operates under three principles,” she said. “Discretion. Safety. Experience.”
We passed a set of heavy double doors where a tall security guard stood like a statue in a tailored suit. Madam pushed open a door to our right. Inside was a suite that looked like something out of a luxury hotel. A massive bed sat in the center of the room surrounded by sheer curtains. The lighting was low and golden, and a marble bathroom glowed softly behind frosted glass.
“This is one of our VIP suites,” Madam said. “Each room has its own atmosphere. Some clients prefer soft intimacy. Others prefer fantasy.” She gestured down the hall. “We also have themed rooms.”
She opened another door. That one was darker—black satin sheets, mirrored walls, and soft red lighting that made the room look sinful.
Ronnie’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay now,” she murmured in approval.
Madam continued, “You will be assigned rooms based on client preference and availability.”
Madam continued walking. “There is one more person you should be aware of—”
We followed her down another hallway that felt even more exclusive than the first.
“This establishment has a top earner,” she continued stopping outside a set of double doors. “And she has maintained that position for three years.” Madam pushed the doors open.
Inside was the most luxurious room we’d seen yet. Cream silk curtains. A fireplace. A massive bed draped in champagne-colored satin. And lounging across the edge of it like she owned the place, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.
Skin the color of rich, Godiva chocolate. Long black hair cascading down her back. Legs for days. She stood slowly. She looked like a life size Barbie with bigger boobs and fatter ass.
She tilted her head slightly, glass of champagne in her hand and smiled slowly. “Well,” she said lazily. “Fresh meat.”
Madam gestured toward her. “Ladies… this is Monroe.”
Ronnie leaned toward me again. “Damn,” she whispered. "This bitch is bad. I see why she the top earner.”
Monroe’s eyes slid across the room… and landed on me. Her smile faded just a little.
Interesting.
Madam’s voice cut through the tension. “Monroe is the most requested woman in this house.”
