Page 21 of Craving Paradise

Ines takes a couple more shots before we step onboard the luxury jet. I’ve flown privately many times before, thanks to my parents being bougie and insisting it’s the only way to travel through Europe. But it’s the first time Ines got the VIP treatment for work, and that needs to be celebrated.

“I’m so excited. I need this trip. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a holiday together,” I tell my sister excitedly as we sit next to each other.

“When was the last time we went on a trip together?” Ines asks.

“Was it Monaco for that private party you played at last year?”

“Yes, during the Formula One, and I hooked up with that driver. That was a great weekend.” Ines sighs. As a blissful look slides across her face, her mind wanders back to the weekend with that Formula One driver.

I had an equally good weekend with a driver too. Who knew they were good with their hands?

“This catchup’s well needed then. It’s been too long.” My sister grins.

We’re a close-knit family for a family who is too busy to catch up. There are five of us, and we’re scattered all over the world.

I’m the youngest of the family.

Then there’s Ines, who is only two years older than me. We’re the closest because our older siblings weren’t interested in hanging out with us when we were growing up.

Then there’s Lennox, the next oldest. He’s a model-actor and lives in LA. I haven’t seen him in a while, but great things are happening to him over there.

Our oldest sister is Juliette. She runs the Paris office of our family’s business. She’s a bitch, but in a good way. Kind of.

The oldest is Reed. He runs the New York office of the agency. As the oldest, he’s the bossiest, most serious, and doesn’t know how to have fun one of the bunch.

I’ve always felt the odd one out in my family. First, I’m not as ambitious as everyone else—that gene skipped me. Second, all my siblings are fair-haired like our Swedish father, except for me. I take after our Irish mother, who is naturally dark-haired except she dyes it blonde to fit in with the rest of the family. I’m the odd one in the bunch when we get together with my black hair and blue eyes.

“That’s because you’ve been jetting around being the hottest female DJ there is,” I say proudly to my sister.

“Aw, babe, thanks. Still, you know I’m never too busy for you. But anytime I call, you’re always on your way to work. You’ve been working long hours at that private members’ club. What I find strange is that you won’t let me come and visit you at work. I’m happy to pay for the membership,” my sister adds.

“You can’t afford the membership, babe. It starts at two hundred thousand a year.”

“Yeah, I can’t afford that. Can’t you sneak me in or something?” my sister asks.

That will never happen.

One of the conditions for working at The Paradise Club is no one knows you work there. Sort of likeFight Club, but sexier. I mean, Brad Pitt is sexy in that movie, but we still don’t talk about the club to anyone.

I’ve been working there for a while now, and if I’m honest, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. People frown upon sex work but fuck them. I know I’m privileged to be working in a safe environment where the owner, Nate Lewis, ensures all his staff is protected. Not everyone who works in sex has the same experience. But for me, my experience has been so much fun.

And I love sex.

I have a healthy attitude regarding it too. I’m not damaged. I don’t have any daddy issues pushing me to seek rich men to have sex with.

It’s just fun.

And why shouldn’t I get paid for what I’ve been giving away for free all these years?

I’m not a naïve young girl. Working at The Paradise Club isn’t the first sex job I’ve ever had. All my adult life I have been known as the good-time girl, the party princess who flew to Ibiza, Mykonos, Monaco, Bali, and Vegas. You name it, I have partied there. I didn’t consider it a job. It was just what I did every summer. People would invite me to their party and ask me to bring along all my friends—all free—to have fun.

If I were smarter, I probably could have turned it into a career, but the thought never crossed my mind. My family owns the largest modeling agency in Europe, and beautiful people always surrounded me. They were my friends. I didn’t hang out with them because they were hot. I hung out with them because they had the same vibe I did.

Everywhere we went, the night would turn wild, especially at the after-parties we’d randomly host, nothing coordinated or anything. It was more like‘hey let’s keep partying at my place’,and everyone we wanted there would come back. More drinks, maybe some drugs, and the after-party would get even wilder. Clothes would disappear, people would pair off, and the music would thump through your body, making every nerve ending feel alive. The people I hung around with were more confident in being naked than I guess the average person. They were models, and the parties would quickly descend into chaos, where sex between mutually consenting adults would happen. Love is love, vibes.

I’ve grown up in a sexually liberated family where everything was open. Sex was never taboo. My mother bought me my first vibrator like she did when I needed a bra or tampons.

The more parties I attended and organized, the crazier things became. It wasn’t long until word got out, and people were clamoring to be invited, especially when they heard stories of orgies happening in the living room, the pool, the sauna, pretty much anywhere anyone felt like getting down.