CHAPTER 3 -- THE VILLA
The taxi pulled away slowly, leaving them in silence. It was just before three in the afternoon, the kind of quiet weekday where nothing extraordinary should be happening.
They stepped onto the stone path. Heather adjusted the lapel of her coat. Beside her, Claudia walked with quiet poise. The wind tugged gently at their coats. Underneath, they both knew exactly what they had chosen to wear.
Earlier that day, they had stood in front of the mirror together--not uncertain, not hesitant, just quiet, focused. Heather had slipped into a tight, wine-colored dress. No bra. No jewelry. The clean lines felt like armor. Claudia had chosen a deep navy wrap dress, fitted but not flashy. Subtle, steady. Powerful in its restraint.
A sleek gate opened at their approach without a sound. Beyond it, a gravel path curved through a minimalist garden that looked natural but was clearly curated. At the end stood the villa: white stone, clean lines, no ornamentation. It looked like an exclusive retreat.
Heather glanced sideways. "Still feel powerful?"
Claudia gave a small smile. "Let's find out."
A soft chime sounded as they neared the door. It opened just before Heather could knock.
Inside stood a woman in her mid-twenties, elegant in a sharply tailored, neutral-toned suit. Underneath the blazer, she wore a white silk camisole that dipped low enough to hint at what wasn't there--no bra. She was strikingly flat-chested and made no effort to disguise it. The fabric clung to her chest in a way that felt deliberate and confident--almost daring. There was something about how the silk followed the contours of her that made it hard not to wonder what it would feel like to brush the fabric aside.
A tablet rested lightly in her hand. Her expression was pleasant but unreadable, the corners of her mouth faintly lifted--as if she approved, but wouldn't say so. Her eyes were a cool, pale green.
"Heather and Claudia," she said without asking. "Please follow me."
She didn't say anything else. Just led them forward--past polished concrete floors and soft light through high, narrow windows.
They followed her down a hallway and into a room with pale walls and curved furniture. Two low sofas faced a deep leather armchair. No visible tech. Just a still, inviting space.
The assistant gestured for them to sit, then left.
Moments later, the door opened again.
The woman from the club entered.
Still in black. A sleeveless top, form-fitting slacks. No jewelry. No heels. Just presence. Her hair was swept up casually, as if she'd left somewhere more interesting than this.
"You came," she said. Her voice was the same--low, steady. She smiled faintly. "With Claudia, I was almost certain--the curiosity. The questions. And Heather... I suspected you wouldn't let her come alone."
Claudia raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't like that. We decided together."
The woman let that pass with a nod. "Even better."
Claudia tilted her head. "So what is this, exactly? You watch people, size them up, and recruit your next... interns?"
The woman smiled. "Participants. Partners, sometimes. Never interns."
Heather raised an eyebrow. "And what would we be participating in?"
"We entertain. We accompany. We learn, we provoke. We please. In ways that are physical. Sometimes emotional. Never performative."
Claudia exhaled slowly. "So... we get fucked by rich people."
The woman's smile barely shifted. "That's one way to put it. But yes. You'll form connections. Many of our members are powerful. All are chosen carefully."
Heather crossed her arms. "And we just smile and do whatever they want?"
"Not at all," the woman replied. "You choose. Always. We don't control your body. We observe your potential. And often, we see how someone responds to control--giving it, taking it, resisting it."
She turned slightly. "I feel that should resonate with you, Claudia. The way you moved on the dance floor--with the guys around you--I saw how you held the space. You like control, even when you're not trying to show it. I'd guess you got used to it in a certain environment. Older brothers?"
Claudia blinked. "Three."
The woman gave a knowing nod. "That makes sense."
She turned to Heather. She didn't speak immediately--just studied her for a moment.
"You're harder to read. That's not a weakness. You observe, and you don't rush to speak. On the floor, you didn't try to attract attention, but you didn't shy away from it either. That balance--it leaves space for curiosity. And that has power."
