Read Online Invitation to The Platinum Society: The Billionaire's Secret BDSM Club by Alicia Roberts - Free Book Online
Authors: Alicia Roberts
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Chapter One
Backstage, the lights were bright. I stood there for a moment, staring at myself and wondering why I’d agreed to do this.
I still remember that exciting moment when I got the letter. All those days of studying for the LSAT had been worth it – I had gotten into Columbia Law School.
Too bad that letter had been followed up within days by another letter, this time informing me that I hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and that I’d have to come up with the full amount of tuition by myself.
Now, with just one more month before classes started, I found myself at my wits’ ends. So far I’d waited tables, done a few temp jobs, and bought more than one lottery ticket that didn’t pay off.
My initial joy at having gotten into my dream college had worn off. Everyone seemed to have an easier life than me – take, for instance, my friend Brian, who was ho sting his very own fashion show tonight.
Ok, so the models weren’t professionals, and the whole show was “unconventional”, but he was getting some press coverage and the show and ensuing media circus would probably mean that his new lingerie business would take off.
The gimmick of his fashion show was that he was using “real women” to model his sexy lingerie designs – never mind that he couldn’t afford any real models and was just paying his friends and acquaintances to go down the catwalk.
And that’s how I found myself there, backstage as part of the melee, as girls dressed and had their makeup fixed for the show. I’m not that pretty, but I keep in decent shape by going for a run every day, and I thought that wearing some underwear in front of a bunch of people wouldn’t be such a big deal – at least I’d get paid for it.
I glanced at the clothes I was handed, and changed out of my street clothes into a skimpy thong and transparent negligee.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered, when I saw my reflection in the mirror.
The negligee was transparent, and in the bright stage lights backstage, I could clearly see through the thin fabric, right to my dark nipples. A tiny thong barely covered my most private parts. I’ve never even been to a topless beach, and wearing this backstage was something I could barely stomach, and my half-nakedness was made acceptable only because of all the other girls there who were changing and in various states of undress.
But this was definitely not the kind of thing I’d wear in public.
I stormed up to Brian with a kind of bravado I didn’t actually feel inside. “You’re using a fake name to introduce me,” I demanded, “And you’re paying me $5000 for tonight, not $3000.”
“Vicki! You’re meant to be my friend !”
Thank God he’s gay, I thought to myself. If anyone else I knew saw me like this, I would’ve been mortified.
“I am your friend,” I reminded him, “And that’s why I haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet. But no-one else gets to know I was here, let alone wearing this. ”
I gestured to the thin fabric and Brian beamed with pride at his creation before looking guilty again. “I’ll use a fake name for you, but I can’t afford five grand, you know I can’t.”
His voice was whiny and I sighed. He’d been good to me and I couldn’t abandon him on the night of his big show. I rolled my eyes , grabbed a dressing gown to cover myself up with, and wandered off into hair and makeup.
***
The music was blaring, and somehow, over it all, the mc introduced each model as she sashayed down the catwalk. Lara was studying to be a paralegal, Claire was an art history student, and Misha was a hair stylist. I’d never met these women before, and I’m not sure how Brian found them, but surely those names were made up.
The line in front of me grew shorter, and finally I found myself dropping the gown and heading out onto the catwalk.
I’d been to three rehearsals for this, and the choreographer had made sure I knew exactly what to do. It wasn’t too hard –
Backstage, the lights were bright. I stood there for a moment, staring at myself and wondering why I’d agreed to do this.
I still remember that exciting moment when I got the letter. All those days of studying for the LSAT had been worth it – I had gotten into Columbia Law School.
Too bad that letter had been followed up within days by another letter, this time informing me that I hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and that I’d have to come up with the full amount of tuition by myself.
Now, with just one more month before classes started, I found myself at my wits’ ends. So far I’d waited tables, done a few temp jobs, and bought more than one lottery ticket that didn’t pay off.
My initial joy at having gotten into my dream college had worn off. Everyone seemed to have an easier life than me – take, for instance, my friend Brian, who was ho sting his very own fashion show tonight.
Ok, so the models weren’t professionals, and the whole show was “unconventional”, but he was getting some press coverage and the show and ensuing media circus would probably mean that his new lingerie business would take off.
The gimmick of his fashion show was that he was using “real women” to model his sexy lingerie designs – never mind that he couldn’t afford any real models and was just paying his friends and acquaintances to go down the catwalk.
And that’s how I found myself there, backstage as part of the melee, as girls dressed and had their makeup fixed for the show. I’m not that pretty, but I keep in decent shape by going for a run every day, and I thought that wearing some underwear in front of a bunch of people wouldn’t be such a big deal – at least I’d get paid for it.
I glanced at the clothes I was handed, and changed out of my street clothes into a skimpy thong and transparent negligee.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered, when I saw my reflection in the mirror.
The negligee was transparent, and in the bright stage lights backstage, I could clearly see through the thin fabric, right to my dark nipples. A tiny thong barely covered my most private parts. I’ve never even been to a topless beach, and wearing this backstage was something I could barely stomach, and my half-nakedness was made acceptable only because of all the other girls there who were changing and in various states of undress.
But this was definitely not the kind of thing I’d wear in public.
I stormed up to Brian with a kind of bravado I didn’t actually feel inside. “You’re using a fake name to introduce me,” I demanded, “And you’re paying me $5000 for tonight, not $3000.”
“Vicki! You’re meant to be my friend !”
Thank God he’s gay, I thought to myself. If anyone else I knew saw me like this, I would’ve been mortified.
“I am your friend,” I reminded him, “And that’s why I haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet. But no-one else gets to know I was here, let alone wearing this. ”
I gestured to the thin fabric and Brian beamed with pride at his creation before looking guilty again. “I’ll use a fake name for you, but I can’t afford five grand, you know I can’t.”
His voice was whiny and I sighed. He’d been good to me and I couldn’t abandon him on the night of his big show. I rolled my eyes , grabbed a dressing gown to cover myself up with, and wandered off into hair and makeup.
***
The music was blaring, and somehow, over it all, the mc introduced each model as she sashayed down the catwalk. Lara was studying to be a paralegal, Claire was an art history student, and Misha was a hair stylist. I’d never met these women before, and I’m not sure how Brian found them, but surely those names were made up.
The line in front of me grew shorter, and finally I found myself dropping the gown and heading out onto the catwalk.
I’d been to three rehearsals for this, and the choreographer had made sure I knew exactly what to do. It wasn’t too hard –
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