Page 45 of XX Love Affair
“Is that Louis?” Tara nodded to the dark orange bag settling into Helena’s lap when she sat down. “I love that style. I much prefer it to the patterned bags.”
“I also like simple solids with little flourishes,” Helena said. “Thanks. I’ve got some of the suitcases too. The yellow ones.”
“Is that your favorite? Sorry, I’ve been thinking about Fashion Week because Astrid has been investing in up-and-coming designers and it’s given me front-row seats to all the local shows. Definitely kills an afternoon.”
“It was my ex’s favorite.”’
Both women were silent as they studied Helena’s face. “Who’s your ex?” Tara cleared her throat. “I mean… if it’s okay to ask.”
“Irene Feist,” Helena responded without hesitation. “She’s from Southern California, so don’t worry if you’ve never heard of her.”
Tara’s face was blank. Blair, however, chimed, “Mira and I have performed for her before. I think it was someone’s birthday party over a year ago. She hired us as one of the entertainers in the penthouse she rented. San Francisco. Flew us out and everything, too.”
“Sounds like something she’d do. That must have been right before I met her.”
“Isn’t she married? To some guy?”
“Joshua Dillon. They don’t have the same last name.”
“Interesting,” Tara said. “Not the first straight couple I’ve heard into that sort of thing.”
“Trust me, they’re far from a ‘straight’ couple. At least Irene is not straight.” Not that Helena knew which label her ex preferred. Nor did she care now. “But yeah. They know how to keep the spark alive.”
If these otherworldly women, who couldn’t be that much older than Helena, detected the flat timbre of her voice, they didn’t let on. Yet she saw the looks in their eyes. Confusion. A little fear. Helena had no idea if these were girls disgusted by the male form. Were they judging her? Jealous of her?
Did she care?
“You’re with Delia Benoist now, though,” Blair said, changing the subject. “You guys have come to ladies’ night at Le Salon twice in a row. Although I didn’t get to hang out with you two last time. I was already spoken for.”
“Do you work there every weekend?” Helena asked although she knew the answer. It was impossible since Blair and her partner Mira often performed on weekends or hung out with friends in places like The Dark Hour.
“Only on ladies’ night, or when I want to pick up some shifts.” Blair shrugged. “Entertaining men doesn’t bother me when it’s all fantasy and no touching, but Mira doesn’t like it. She says it will dampen our image if our usual clients think she’s ‘pimping’ me out to Le Chateau. Even though it’s not that kind of sex work at all.”
“Le Chateau?”
“The place up in the mountains,” Tara said. “Ran by Monica Warren. You know. The Warrens. She’s also the owner of Le Salon here in town.”
Blair laughed. “Far worse women to work for. She pays well, too. Probably can because she has us charge so damn much. It’s a lot of pressure! Keeping high-paying customers happy when all you can do is look sexy, pour them drinks, and engage in conversation. Not like what they do up in the mountains. That place is a bona fide BDSM brothel. Full-service work. That’s what my boss Judith used to do before she moved up in rank.”
“Interesting…” Helena said.
“Been there a few times with Astrid,” Tara said. “Not my scene, but it’s fun. A lot of the gals who work there are hilarious and are blunt as hell in the best ways. Then again, you’re hard-pressed to throw a rock around here and not have it land on a sex worker’s head. All kinds, too. Even Astrid used to be an escort.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to tell people that?” Blair asked.
“Like everyone doesn’t know by now…”
“You’re one too, right?” Helena asked Blair, who looked at her with caution. “Even if you weren’t working in that lounge, you do performances on the circuit, right? Paid?”
“Yes. Didn’t start that way. Not until I met Mira, who is a professional Domme with clients all over the world. We perform in clubs and at private parties. It’s crazy how used to it I got after the first few times.”
“Bet that drums up interest at the lounge.”
“Oh, for sure. Most of the women who stop by on ladies’ night request me specifically. They love to chat up the woman who they saw get pounded at their friend’s birthday party.”
Tara yelped in laughter, clasping both hands over her mouth. Helena was less amused. If anything, she was so used to this kind of work now, that she sometimes forgot it was something scandalous to others.
“I’ve thought about getting into that line of work,” Helena mused. “Sex work. Not much bothers me. I’m sure you saw me in New York. I won the green beads.”