A Merry Invitation
by AC Arthur
Part of the The Corporation
Slayton Turner, ex-NFL player and manager of The Corporation Kensington swore he’d never want anything or anyone again. Until he heard her sing.
Aspiring singer, Willow James, is all about building her career, so an invitation to perform at a Christmas party where a notable music executive will also be in attendance, is a dream come true.
But what happens when an invitation for just one night, turns into so much more?
NOTE: This novella has a dual timeline with Ridge and does contain major spoilers for that title.
A Merry Invitation
Part of the The Corporation
A Merry Invitation
A hard dick wasn’t the plan for this evening.
At least not this early in the night. Slay made a quick adjustment of his burgeoning arousal, then brushed his hands down the front of his tuxedo pants praying his condition and his temporary remedy, weren’t witnessed by any of the one hundred and twenty guests in this ballroom.
It was only a little after eight and the party had just started. The party Slay and the Delegates had decided to host as an introduction for their newest members. Having the party on Christmas night and at a venue other than a Corporation-owned property was different from their previous new member events, but that was just one of the fresh ideas he’d brought to the delegation during their January meeting in Bali. The moment the list of this year’s newest pleasure seekers was circulated to each of the managers around the world, he’d known their grand introduction to other members and the delegation had to be something special. As it was his turn to host this year’s event in London, he’d made a special trip to the delegation’s annual meeting to plead his case for the changes.
The Corporation was an elite sex club with facilities all over the world. Their controlling body consisted of a thirteen-member delegation and highly qualified managers assigned to each location. The delegation included three founding members of the club and ten former members who—with huge monetary donations and enough votes—had been selected to sit among the highest in command. Managers of each facility were either hand-picked by a delegate or submitted to the delegation for consideration by another manager or a very high-ranking member. And by high-ranking, that meant how many zeroes were in their bank accounts.
Yep, the only thing that came second to a member’s pleasure at The Corporation, was a member’s money. Only on a few rare occasions was the opposite true.
But tonight, wasn’t about the member’s pleasure, that took place behind the walls of each Corporation facility, or in a private space agreed upon by the member and the staff they requested. In Slay’s case, the facility he managed was the Kensington location in London. He planned to showcase the changes he’d made to his location during the six years he’d been control, as well as plant the seeds for the delegation seat he wanted to someday occupy. Tonight, was a first step in a carefully considered idea to make the best of this new phase of his life.
It was also, the night he finally scratched the itch that had been distracting him for the past two months.
“Good evening, Slayton.” He heard her throaty voice and felt the hand glide down the length of his arm before he looked over to see Elora Marcelle standing beside him. “Everything looks fabulous tonight.”
And by everything, Slay, knew he was included. Elora was a seventy-two-year-old former television personality with an appetite for younger men. With her perfectly styled silver hair, caramel skin and a curvaceous body any twenty or even thirty-something year old woman would covet, she was also a delegate. Her father Orin Marcelle had been a founding member but Slay highly doubted the man ever expected his daughter would not only grace the halls of several of the facilities around the world but would also build an irrefutable reputation for dominance. From the day Slay had first met her six years ago, Elora had been trying to make him hers—at least temporarily since she never kept a submissive for long—and he’d been vehemently, yet, politely, turning her down at every turn.
Truth be told, he was a little afraid of the woman, despite having some experience with older women in his past. But there was something about the icy glare of Elora’s gray-green eyes and the firm set of her narrow lips when she wasn’t smiling, that sent chills down his spine, and not in a sexy way.
“Good evening, Elora,” he said and took the hand she now had resting over his to bring to his mouth for a quick kiss. He was careful to release that hand slowly before he nodded and continued, “I’m glad you are enjoying the set up. Dinner will be served in the next twenty minutes, then we’ll have some general entertainment, before a more focused performance later on. It’ll be a full night of festivities.”
He looked out to the main ballroom of the Sola Lounge, one of London’s hottest clubs. The venue was broken into several different rooms that catered to specific types of music during their weekly programming. This space that he’d rented for the evening was private and located on the club’s upper level. With a two-hundred-person capacity, it was large enough to still be considered intimate with the sash windows that dominated most of London’s 18th and 19th century homes and buildings lining the entire front wall, glossed mahogany wood floors and an ornately decorated panel ceiling.
“The focused entertainment,” she drawled the words as she stepped closer to him, this time boldly easing her hand inside his tuxedo jacket to rub up his chest. “Will you be participating or simply watching from a distance?”
When he didn’t immediately respond because her roaming hand had found his nipple through the thin layer of his pristine white shirt and even the ribbed tank he wore beneath it, she continued. “You recall last year when that dreadful Tabby DePaul, joined a few of her staff on stage for a garish striptease catastrophe.”
Slay did remember that evening very well. Tabby DePaul had a big ass and even bigger titties that made his mouth water every time he saw the Nigerian beauty. She was smart and funny and they got along fabulously, without ever sleeping together, that is. She managed the Belize facility where the new member gathering had been held last year and Elora hated her. There was some balance in the universe because Tabby despised Elora as well and would forever be grateful that ten male delegates had voted for her promotion to manager, giving her the majority votes she’d needed.
Slay eased a hand around the wrist that was on his chest as he held Elora’s gaze. “I rather enjoyed that show,” he told her. “But no, to answer your question, I will not be a part of the performance.”
Elora made a tsking sound and allowed him to remove her hand from his chest and place it once again at her side. She could’ve jerked away from his grasp or said something loud about his rejection, but that wasn’t her style. The woman didn’t like to make a scene, but she was known to grab a dick if she wanted it. Lucky for all of them the rules against sexual harassment were a little more relaxed with The Corporation than they were in the world. The nature of their business required it to be so, but there was an entire section of their membership contract that described exactly what would not be tolerated and what was punishable by law. Both the law that governed The Corporation and the outside world’s law.
“I see we’re getting acquainted early this evening,” Jackson Carrington drawled with a shake of his head when he approached them.
Jack was the CEO of Carrington Enterprises and one of the top five richest men in the world. With his Laz Alonso good looks and generous bank account, Jack had once been a delegate at The Corporation, with his home facility being in Beverly Hills, California. He’d sold all his shares in the company years ago and had recently married, Tara, a beautiful graphic designer who Slay suspected was Jack’s reason for leaving the club.
“Hey man,” Slay said, taking a step away from Elora to extend a hand to Jack. “It’s good to see you.” When Jack accepted his hand to shake, Slay slapped his other hand to the man’s shoulder and smiled.
Jack nodded. “You know I wasn’t gonna miss the opportunity to see you shine. Proud of you man,” Jack told him.
One of Slay’s first visits to The Corporation was at the Beverly Hills location during his junior year of college. He’d gone in as a guest of his recruiter who’d taken a very special interest in Slay and eventually in Slay’s beautiful single mother. Slay had enjoyed himself immensely. The next morning when he’d been about to leave the facility, Jack had called him into a meeting room at the facility and gave him the membership pitch. Everybody had known Slay was going to be a top round pick for the NFL that year, so his financial status would soon meet the minimum requirements to maintain a Corporation membership. But Slay hadn’t joined that night. He’d returned on a visitor pass approved by Jack, a couple of times before he’d signed his first NFL contract and moved to Austin.
“Thanks,” Slay told him as they released hands. “That means a lot coming from you.”
Jack shook his head. “I saw the potential early on and when I linked up with Karson for one of our periodic lunches, and he mentioned you were over here visiting the club daily, I knew it was time to get you settled into a real position.”
On Jack’s encouragement, Karson Brooks, who was still the current manager of The Corporation Beverly Hills had been the one to put Slay’s name in for consideration as manager at the Kensington location. While Slay’s good friend, Ridge Donovan, had eagerly given Slay the necessary co-sign to seal the nomination. Moving to London permanently and working in a field that promised him a lucrative bank account without causing further permanent damage to his body and all the sexual pleasure he could possibly imagine without the messiness that often came with those two things, was one of the best decision he’d ever made.
“I appreciate that more than you know, Jack,” he said earnestly.
Elora cleared her throat, giving them both a bored look. “I’m still standing here.” With that she extended a hand in Jack’s direction.
Jack obliged, albeit with a smirk, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth for a quick kiss. “Hello, Elora. As always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“If it was such a pleasure I’d see you more often, Jackson,” Elora said, her gaze raking Jack up and down.
“You live in the Maldives now, am I correct? With your…uh…friend?” Jack asked, his eyebrows raised.
Slay stifled a laugh because Jack knew full well Elora loved to call her subs, her “boys”.
Elora frowned. “Don’t be crass, Jackson. It doesn’t suit you,” she quipped. “Now, where is your lovely wife? I know she didn’t just allow you to come to this haven of promiscuity on Christmas night alone. I’m frankly surprised she allowed you to come back here to consort with our kind at all. I mean, especially after she demanded you leave.”
Jack grinned. “Come on now, Elora. You of all people know there are very few people on this earth who can demand I do anything. The decision to leave and focus on my wife and my family business was my own. On the other hand, you’re partially correct. Tara is here. She actually designed the invitations for the event and wanted to meet Slay in person to thank him for such an illustrious opportunity.”
“Then, by all means, we should definitely go and meet her,” Slay said, taking that opportunity to get the hell away from Elora.
An hour and a half later, after smiling, shaking hands, hugging and giving hand and cheek kisses to the women members and some of the guests, Slay finally sat alone at a table close to the stage at the back of the room. His legs were partially spread, one hand on his thigh, the other lifting a glass of Clase Azul tequila to his lips for a slow gulp. As the stunningly smooth liquid slid easily down his throat, his gaze went to the stage in the now-dimly-lit room just as the first notes of music began to play.
Then he heard it, the voice that had taunted and soothed, lulled him to sleep, coaxed him to climax and basically wreaked havoc on his concentration for the last two months. Willow James with her beautifully flawless face, plump ass, wide hips, and stunning talent, sang the first lyrics to Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.