A/N: HELLO! Wow, another book from me I am so sorry. My imagination is on a roll. So without further ado, welcome to my next book! I hope you guys enjoy it, I'll be updating this in between my other current books and as always, I LOVE seeing your comments and feedback so keep them coming!
I love you all so much,
- T
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The door of my Audi slams shut with a deep thud as I walk up to the men guarding the door. It's a black custom S5 with dark tinted windows and any and every upgrade you can think of. I throw my denim jacket over my shoulder as I walk up to the two security guards. One takes my car keys from me and pushes his arm through the heavy velvet curtains cascading across the entry-way, allowing me entrance to the building.
The car park is full but I trust that they will find a park for me. That's what valet is for after all.
"Good evening Mr. Holland," The other says nodding as a sign of respect and acknowledgment. I nod back, staying silent and ducking slightly as to not let the curtain brush against my hair and ruin the time and effort I had spent on styling it.
The fresh scent of cologne wafts through the air, concealing the thick underlying smells of sweat and alcohol. Making my way through the familiar corridors, the sultry sound of jazz plays through the ceiling speakers. The establishment is busy tonight, although a few women still greet me as I pass them.
"Hi Tom."
"Hey Tom."
"Back again so soon Tom?"
I smile and say hello to them back, a few of them walking past me with lustful male clients in tow. As I pass one of the girls entering a soundproof room, the heavy sound of bass resonates out the door mixed with slapping skin and a crescendo of moaning. The bordello was immaculate, unlike any type of prostitution facility you've seen. Whatever you may like to call it whether it be a brothel or a whore house, The PlayHaus was the pièce de résistance of sex clubs.
Unlike majority of the competitors in this state, this place was luxurious. You didn't set foot in a dodgy dim-lit corridor with tacky red neon lights and the smell of cigarette smoke infiltrating your nostils. You didn't pay $100 an hour for someone with a questionable sexually transmitted disease history. No, here you were greeted with some of the finest women (and men) in the industry, each hireable to satisfy your wildest of fantasies in private themed rooms.
Not all business that went down here was strictly sex for money. No, it operated as a topless bar and a strip club too - for those who wanted a titillating experience without having to have intercourse for an exorbitant price. Sometimes people just like to look and not touch.
The corridors are narrow, illuminated with a deep purple lighting and adorned with erotic art; tasteful erotic art. The PlayHaus was easily a multi million dollar renovation job, yet that barely scraped the surface in the mammoth of it's annual revenue. Sex sells. It really does.
Care to feel like an illustrious businessman plowing his hot secretary after a meeting? They have a replica CEO office for that. Dreaming to have a dripping wet rendezvous in a tropical jacuzzi or play out your darkest Fifty Shades of Grey shtick in a leather sex swing? There are no limits to your imagination here.
I lean against the bar and order 'the usual' to the topless bartender with long platinum blonde extensions and thick false eyelashes who goes by 'Alexis'. She's recently returned from annual leave after getting breast implants. They look good. Minimal scarring. Good surgeon.
She knows my signature drink by heart, whiskey on the rocks with two sugar cubes crushed at the bottom. It's not a complicated drink; it's basically an old fashioned without the bitters or the orange peel, but I never have to explain it to her.
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𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬
Fanfiction*First Book of the Method Trilogy* Tom knows organised Crime rings are the true leaders of this country, not the British government. But when he and his family's empire is jeopardised by the legal system, they vow that no obstacle will get in their...
