Sappho Intl (Songs of Silk Book 1) Page 11

  “I was born ready. This was the moment I’ve been waiting for...”

  The door swung open and within an instant all eyes had descended upon our presence.

  We proceeded to enter the grand main room of the club and my senses were immediately soaked with the pulse of the moment.

  It was clearly evident that PrimaDonna had succeeded in mixing a traditional burlesque ambiance with a chic Miami vibe. The room had been draped with a rich, crimson red floral baroque background and modernized with chic white Louis XVI chairs and matching tables made of iron. Golden circular candles illuminated the beautiful faces of exquisite and international patrons and it was clear that lesbians from every corner of the world had shown up for a chance to grace the doors of the newest SocialClub9.

  And with our entrance, the room instantly came alive.

  There was a distinct resonance of random yet subtle murmurs of awe and praise and with every step we took across the red, oak wood-paneled floors there echoed the curiosity of patrons bent and intent on being the first to find out who we were.

  It seemed that the mystery held the magnificent room captivated and breathed new fervor into the heart of the club as we glided by. Even the gold flower-imprinted, ivory white columns began to dance from the ceilings in time with the upbeat salsa tempo of Big Willie’s “Shame on You”. And I looked up towards the deejay booth and slightly smiled as I caught Midi’s eyes.

  The room was sensational and I could’ve stopped to fully admire and appreciate its beauty. But the grand chandeliers glimmered above, in harmony with the gleaming and recessed floor and wall lights, in an effort to induce us forward towards the upper level V.I.P. section.

  Our footsteps were effortlessly swayed into smooth and steady movements, as we ascended the stairs that led the way above the full bar to our section, which was partially hidden behind crimson red, sheer curtains. Upon completing our advance into the upper level, we were finally graced with a pristine vantage point of the whole room and I paused at the railing for a moment to absorb the full breadth of its wonderful burlesque charm.

  The vision had already exceeded anything that I could’ve ever imagined; and yet I had to continue to maintain my composure since the whole room continued to gape at us in wonderment.

  Gossip and guesses ricocheted up and into the upper level. And just when I thought everyone would erupt in sheer outrage at the obscurity, Midi’s Parisian accent erupted through the microphone.

  “Bonsoir, femmes and studs…”

  “Would you please join me in a round of applause for the newest stallion and overseer of the newest SocialClub9 here in Miami...Max Silk!”

  I stood at the tar black, iron railing which looked over the crowd triumphantly and waved with distinguished distinction. Everyone clapped fervently. And unexpectedly a few of the femmes began to stand and yell in bunches, like they were sorority sisters at a frat party after Hell Week. I grinned so hard I could feel my dimples tighten, as my eyes twinkled in the lights with glee. I had come a long way from Richmond Heights and taken my rightful seat amidst modern day royalty.

  “…all of her closest friends and associates call her Silk and she is pleased to make our acquaintances…”

  As we continued to stand and scan over the ocean of patrons, the Trio began to recognize some of the patrons from other events and had begun to whisper to each other while pointing and waving. It seemed that my angels were already angling to work the crowd.

  “Merci! Merci! Vous êtes magnifique! Now let’s make this party sizzle…”

  The patrons finally took their seats, as Midi continued to turn up the volume on the electronic salsa mix that she’d been working on at the Playhouse and we all began to relax.

  Entering was always the most challenging part for me and I was thoroughly relieved that the hardest task had been completed with success—we were finally in.

  And our section was clearly for the dignitaries, as the majesty of our team would serve to complete its opulence. We all took our seats on Louis XV rounded settee sofas and antique white and cream buttoned-back Bergères that lined our side of this designated area, as if they were our reserved thrones. And Lolita, Suez, and Kendra began to discuss the presence of some of the patrons that they’d recognized, in a low but lively pitch.

  The mix that Midi had initiated abruptly turned into a slow burlesque and salsa fusion and Midi in a low and guttural tone simply and slowly uttered, ”Anna…”

  The first show had begun.

  I sat back while one of the burlesque dancers had sauntered onto the elevated stage which was rimmed with recessed floor lights and surrounded by a small dance floor below it. I proceeded to pour a glass of champagne from a full bottle of Moët that chilled in a golden ice bucket and prepared to enjoy the show.

  “You cozy, boss?” NinaStarr leaned over and whispered in my ear.

  “I’m beautiful.”

  “Yeah, you breezed through the hardest part. They love your fine ass already.”

  I smiled.

  “This is much more elite than the Sapphire Lounge, huh?”

  “Very impressive.”

  “I bet you think Anna is impressive, too.”

  She leaned back closer to me and crossed her legs ever so sensually and in accord with the burlesque dancer with which the spotlight had been placed on the stage. The dancer bat her eyelashes flirtatiously at the crowd while leisurely removing her black, satin opera-length gloves and letting them drop to the ground. Her public seduction had begun and the audience became entrenched in her performance.

  “I used to dance with that sexy Russian in Chicago. I always wanted to see if the freak in Anna was as real as her blond hair.”

  We both smiled deviously; then sipped and consumed the fine bubbles of champagne poured from chilled Belair black bottles, as Anna’s satire ensued.

  A black chair had been propped as the significant other to whom the tall Russian princess would be issuing a timid striptease. And the crowd just happened to be a voyeur to the satire, as the sovereign voice of Edith Piaf resonated throughout the room.

  Anna whipped her black feather boa from around her neck and twirled it as her hips danced circles around the chair. She humorously whisked the boa back around her neck like a scarf and placed her hands on her hips in comedic frustration at the chair. Then she batted her long eyelashes at the audience as she began to sway her hips in excitement.

  Suddenly, as if the thought just dawned on her, Anna had landed gracefully in the chair. Then, as though it was her reluctant lover’s lap, she spread her legs then quickly brought them back in, to arch her back in sheer ecstasy. She then unexpectedly popped up in parody, as her prim and proper, red and black burlesque dress had been cleverly unhinged at the back of her Basque-style corset, in the process. Her dress fell to the floor to reveal long and beautiful dancer’s legs, draped with a striking black fishnet garter and suspender belt, while her boa tickled full and round mounds of breasts covered by black, sequin pasties and black tassels.

  Anna coyly covered her mouth with her hand as if to say “whoops” and batted her eyelashes. She stepped her black stilettos skillfully out of the dress that had been huddled around her feet and played with her boa while she began to dance. She casually lined behind the chair and held onto it as she made the tassels turn in time with her shoulder’s swivel. It was as if she’d placed her lover’s face into her bosom and playfully shook the shyness off of them.

  The crowd clapped and whistled as the tassels twirled and swirled in synch. Then within an instant, Anna had positioned herself to sit on the chair sideways and arched her back to the sky while her golden locks dangled within the boa’s feathers. Oh, how she made those tassels move, as the burlesque and salsa fusion began to come to a close.

  It seemed that these tassels had been twirling forever and I found myself becoming entrenched into a deep hypnosis—until she stopped on the dime with the clave’s abrupt end to the show.

  It was at this moment that Ann
a turned towards the audience, tossed her boa back around her neck, crossed her legs and blew the crowd a kiss.

  I was amazed.

  “Let’s give a round of applause to Anna.”

  NinaStarr and I clapped while some of members of the audience threw roses onto the stage.

  “Yeah, Anna’s fire—but she ain’t got nothin’ on the Trio.”

  NinaStarr dipped her head in Kendra’s direction as they both clicked their champagne glasses together in a private toast.

  “I hope you get to see us later, boss. We perform at the end, right after Lourdes. You know they had to save the best for last.”

  “Trust me, if it’s better than that performance, then I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  I felt the mood had shifted suddenly, as heads began to turn towards the main doors and we instinctively looked towards the doors to see what the sudden fuss was about. And even though I knew in my gut that there was only one person that could cause this sort of commotion, my eyes couldn’t prepare me for what they were about to behold—PrimaDonna.

  The manner with which PrimaDonna managed to captivate a room had been impressively magnified—even at an event with as much magnitude as this night held.

  She was mercilessly irresistible.

  Like dazzling platinum and diamonds on ice, PrimaDonna glided with an ideal cut and flawless clarity. And with every subtle movement, all of the rooms light traveled freely through her and exited in a rainbow of sparkles.

  She was absolutely breathtaking.

  “Damn, PrimaDonna looks stunning in that charcoal grey strappy.” Kendra commented to Lolita.

  “…and the back is open, too. You know Prima knows how to make an entrance.” Lolita drank from her champagne glass.

  “The dress is a NinaStarr original straight from the Femme Fatale Collection. Kiss Kiss. Bang Bang.”

  “Starr-light! I didn’t know you were making her dress for this event!”

  “Why wouldn’t I be…I made our dresses right? She commissioned it last week and Flourish picked out the material.”

  “Very nice! Very nice! I know those red bottoms are bangin’ too! She looks absolutely luxurious. Lolita, if I ever had the chance, the things I would do with her…” Kendra gawked.

  “The things WE would do with her…” NinaStarr giggled.

  “As bad as she is, I could see PrimaDonna wanting to be wrapped in Silk, though.” NinaStarr added. “Every woman loves a little Silk.” She winked at me.

  The trio giggled, while I smiled privately.

  We delighted in PrimaDonna’s strut across the room, as the red bottom soles of her Louboutins paved the way. And as she glided, her entourage began to slowly come into focus.

  “So who’s the English gentleman escorting PrimaDonna in?”

  “The one who has her arm is Sir Sheik and the one walking behind her, with Flourish, is Pharaoh—they’re the other two stallions.”

  PrimaDonna’s train dressed well and looked as though they had just stepped off of the red carpet and into SocialClub9: Miami. Sir Sheik wore an eloquent blue velvet gentleman’s suit that seemed to be courtesy of Tom Ford, with a dapper scarf tucked into a plaid blue gentleman’s dress shirt and aviator glasses. While Pharaoh rocked slim black cotton and leather moto pants with a foil hooded shirt and leather jacket with rocker boots. Flourish sauntered beside Pharaoh with a classic, black Grecian and draping one-shoulder dress with Jimmy Choo stilettos. And I had to admit that they were all very sublime.

  “The Sheik swears that PrimaDonna is her wifey, but no one’s really sure. I just know that they all go way back. All of them are thick as thieves.”

  So these two studs were the other two stallions.

  I don’t really check out other studs, but I had to admit that I was shocked by how handsome Sir Sheik and Pharaoh were. Although they seemed to be a couple of inches shorter than I, they sure seemed to stand out from the others. I could see how they were rare gems in the treasure chest.

  Sir Sheik had very dark and sleek features but a pristine and gentlemanly air about her. Her slick and slightly curly shoulder length locks bounced neatly, as she advanced her slim frame with eloquence. She firmly removed her glasses as she clenched her square jaw and gently touted her nose into the air. She was the picture of perfection from head to toe and English Victorian elegance was written all over her.

  But with all of the thick layers, she must have missed the memo on how humid it gets, despite it being March—I mean this was Miami after all.

  Pharaoh’s persona seemed to be the direct opposite of Sir Sheik. While the Sheik was the ideal picture of a proper modern-day English chap, Pharaoh was the ideal image of Nubian punk rock. I had never seen anyone so confident within their own skin.

  Unlike Sir Sheik, you could tell, even through the rock star garb, that she was ripped. She was the feminine face of the singer Seal but with a grip of piercings and a silky and long, jet black Mohawk with platinum ice blue tips. Her silver labret and bridge rings and slightly stretched out ear piercings shone in the candlelight, as the group advanced.

  She projected style and swagger as she nodded towards a few patrons that she recognized in the crowd. Her chin held a deep cleft that gave her a raw energy that lit up even more when she flashed perfect, whitened rows of teeth and smiled at one of the femmes on the main floor. The young lady blushed and beamed as though she was attending a rock concert and was just invited backstage. Pharaoh was beautiful in all of her rock glory and even I was impressed with her—which didn’t happen often.

  They seemed to be the most unlikely of associates and yet they remained in step like they’d been friends for a very long time. They were a band of opposites in every way and yet their common bond was the fact that they were all impeccably and inexplicably gorgeous specimens of Sapphians.

  I had to admit that I had my work cut out for me, but I remained confident that I would rise to the occasion and carry my own among these beautiful gods and goddesses. I mean, honestly, if I was a femme I'd fuck them both; but if I was a femme I'd fuck me first. And as long as I remembered this fact I’d be fine.

  All of the pieces to this chess game had finally been fully laid. And I was determined to allow my internal light to lead the way and ultimately prevail.

  “Just a little word to the wise, boss—looks can be deceiving. Each of the stallion’s personalities is actually opposite their look. Pharaoh is way more laid back and patient than the Sheik. Don’t get me wrong, Pharaoh loves to party like a rock star. But the Sheik is the one that you have to keep your eyes on at all times. She’s very possessive and can at times have a slight temper.”

  “Especially when she decides that she wants to be fucking with that white…”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t take a lot of pressure very well and has been known to snort coke when she needs a shoulder to lean on.”

  “…or a table to lean on…” Kendra added.

  “Remember when she was fuckin’ with 8balls when Cloud9 first started a few years ago. They had to make her take a little vacation after that. She’s supposedly been on her best behavior since then—but everybody still keeps one eye on her at all times.”

  “She’s like the oleander flower—beautiful and refined yet highly toxic. She’s gotten so good at playing both sides that one minute she can be a perfect gentleman and the next minute she can scheme and be just a little unstable.”

  “Yep.”

  “Mh hmh!”

  All three of them poured a little more champagne into their glasses as well as mine and watched the group ascend to the V.I.P. area.

  “Just be careful around her. Pharaoh and PrimaDonna keep her in check and relatively stable most of the time. But I don’t trust her, as far as I can throw her.”

  “Good to note.”

  They advanced up the stairs in silence and as they entered the V.I.P. section across from ours, I sipped from my glass and eyed all four of the royal court, as though they were slowly being aligned among the board’s
64 squares.

  They stood at the railing and paused in unison.

  Midi lowered the salsa mix and began to announce them.

  “Please join me in a round of applause for Sappho Intl’s first lady—PrimaDonna Valentina…”

  “…and another round of applause for our first stallions—Sir Samantha Amil Sheik and Pharaoh Dominguez.”

  They each took their seats and PrimaDonna immediately turned to me and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

  As I nodded back, the Sheik instantly sat a little closer to PrimaDonna and glared at me with discontent. Her eyes seemed to dial down from an innocent intrigue to hate, within a matter of milliseconds. And Pharaoh seemed to register a focus within her intense eyes, as if to instantly reel in the reins on the Sheik’s leash to keep her in control. I could already see what my Trio was forewarning.

  “Merci beaucoup! And now…for the illustrious Grande Madame—Lola!”

  Lourdes took the stage as the glittering eyelash fluttering Lola and the crowd went wild. She began to lip synch “Girl from Ipanema” which served to only amplify the excitement.

  “Lourdes is too fabulous!”

  “Indeed.”

  Although I was amused by Lourdes’ routine, I wanted to take advantage of the moment to focus on the task at hand.

  “So what’s the story behind Sir Sheik and Pharaoh?”

  “Well, there’ve been plenty of rumors surrounding both of them. Many of them are highly inaccurate due to their ingrained ability to keep their own secrets well hidden. But people talk most to the ones that they fuck with the most. So I only know of what’s been told to me from clients that have fucked with either of them.”

  “Sir Sheik’s people are Persian and Russian but she was raised between Dubai and the U.K.”

  “Whoa…Dubai?”

  “Yeah, her father was an arms dealer to both sides of the Iran-Iraq War and over the last few decades he got to be so wealthy and connected that he positioned himself to become one of the early oil contractors in the Middle East. He moved between Iran, Iraq, Russia and the U.K. to continue building his empire.”