Dominus (Book I: parts 1-3)

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

 All eyes were on Anastasia as the growl of the Ferrari's engine quieted to a gentle purr in front of the valet's post. The sidewalks glisten and the city lights reflect in the puddles left from the evening rainfall. The night air was thick and humid and still smelled like fresh rain. The moisture in the air made her dress cling to her skin. She offered her hand to the valet who helped her over a puddle and onto the curb. "Chivalry isn't dead after all," she said.

 Her breasts are extra plump, fully exposed and on display. The young valet's eyes couldn't help but follow the plunging neckline downward into the deep crease of her cleavage. Her perfectly round breast barley touch, leaving a small gap that would be perfect for him to slide his cock into, if only he weren't just a simple valet. The thought passes quickly. She catches him staring. He is young and handsome, so she doesn't mind.

 "I would let you squeeze them, but there are too many people." She reaches down for the $100.00 buried between her breast and her bra and gives it to the young valet. She swings her over-sized handbag onto her shoulder and enters Supper Club.

 Supper Club is as old as the money that funnels through there. It is older than Washington, D.C. itself. The myth is that this is where the Mason's would meet, many of whom would become the founding fathers of this nation. Benjamin Banneker was invited in largely because of his reputation and on the word of Ben Franklin. Everyone was aghast at the prospect of this African being in their midst, but Franklin's word trumped popular opinion. Banneker went on to design the layout for what would become Washington, District of Columbia. He would be the first and last black man to enter these doors as a member in more than 225 years. Women weren't allowed until 15 years ago and you had to be married to a member, be the daughter of one, or be what is called a Legacy Descendant.

 Being married to a billionaire has its benefits. Kyle is a member of Supper Club, and just about every other exclusive club, even though he has never actually been to most of them. The ambiance of Supper Club is not really Anastasia's taste. It's far too old fashioned for her liking. Anyone else would find the decor ultra extravagant. You enter on street level through the massive oak doors and step onto dark Italian marble in the foyer were the host confirms you membership and allows you to pass. On either side of him are curved staircases that lead downward into the main dining hall. There are only fifty tables, each assigned to a specific member. Each of the members is a social elite either by money or birthright or both.

 The pure white linen on the tables is a contrast to the dark wood floors and overall dim lighting that makes the room secretive and seductive. Just as all things with the Masons, Supper Club is cloaked in history and mystery. There is exclusivity even within Supper Club by way of the undisclosed bar hidden away behind some wall down some closed off corridor. Most members don't know where it is or even how to get in. There are only twenty members out of the one hundred who know the location or password and they are sworn to secrecy.

 Anastasia doesn't even stop to sit at her table. She stops the closest waiter to her and leaves her order with him. "To start: Beluga caviar, followed by lobster and scallops in squid ink pasta, tossed in white wine reduction with a side of truffle butter. Bill to table 37. Have it packed to go." She passes Alexander, who is sitting in his booth in the far corner as he does regularly, enjoying a steak. They exchange glares briefly, and then he resumes cutting a chunk of meat and placing it in his mouth.

 The hall where the restrooms are located is dark. Only one light in the center of the hall gives off a soft glow, barely bright enough for you to distinguish the women's from the men's. Since women were only recently permitted, it makes sense that the secret passage to Speakeasy would be located in the men's toilet. She walks into the empty restroom and goes to the last stall and closes the door behind her. There, in the stall, the third wooden panel from the wall is a well disguised pocket door. She slides the door closed and walks down the concrete stairs, walks briskly down the dungeon like hall until she comes to a metal door. Most people don't know, unless you are a descendant of a Mason that Supper Club was built on top of an old bunker. That bunker is now the most exclusive bar in all of The District. She taps the buzzer and the slot on the door slides open. Two eyes peer back at her. They stare at each other until she realizes he's waiting for the password. "The Greater Good," she says. The slot closes and the vault like door slowly swings open.