Gillian's Justice Ch. 02

"So it's an up market knocking shop where I'll be shagged by rich tossers," Gillian pretended to sulk.

This was just the opening she was hoping for.

"Look. Why don't you go and check it out? Meet Amanda, the manager and see what you think," Alfie lifted her chin

She let him kiss her and the kiss turned into a full-on smooch, which turned into a shag.

Finally they could delay their departure no longer.

Gillian removed her tattered and stained pantyhose and dropped them on the bed.

"You like me wearing them so much, you can keep them as a souvenir," she teased him.

"I'll treasure them," he lifted them to his nose and inhaled and she clipped him playfully around the ear.

She pulled the spare pair of pantyhose from her Céline calfskin clutch and began to put them on.

"Aren't you the Girl Guide, being prepared and all," Alfie teased her.

"Well I have to do the walk of shame and all I have is my evening dress," she'd used her compact and lipstick and brushed her hair doing the best to make herself presentable.

She shimmied into her red floor-length Saint Laurent slinky satin sheath while Alfie lay on the bed watching her.

"I could watch you doing that all day," he grinned.

"And no lady of mine is doing any walk of shame. I have a car waiting for you dockside, ready to take you anywhere you want," Alfie sat up.

He rummaged in the drawer and picked out a business card and wrote on the back of it. He handed it to Gillian who studied it. Gold lettering on glossy black back ground read: 'Fleur de Lis' with the stylised heraldry embossed in gold.

There was no phone number or address.

"Membership is by invitation only. I have written the address and Amanda's number on the back."

Gillian turned the card over and smiled.

"Yes. That's my private number on there too. Only select people have it," he massaged her feet as he helped her put on her red Christian Louboutin Alminette suede pumps.

"My car will take you home and my driver Alvin will give you his number so you can call him to drive you when you have arranged to meet Amanda at the club," he stood up and helped Gillian to her feet.

He kissed her goodbye.

"One last thing," he said to her as helped up the companionway.

"You don't work for Terry Belkin any longer, whether you take the job at the club or not," he said sternly.

Gillian blushed and looked away.

Alfie lifted her chin and kissed her cheek.

"My girlfriends do not deal drugs," he patted her bottom and sent her on her way.

"Got him!" Gillian Dixon hissed as she walked down the dock to the waiting BMW.

The Fleur de Lis club consisted of three, two-story row houses that had been adjoined, situated off the Gloucester Road in Kensington. The building was redbrick, indistinguishable from the houses either side. Set into the brickwork either side of the oak panelled door above the three wide marble stairs was the heraldry of the Fleur de Lis in gold-leafed ironwork. There were no street numbers or nameplates, nothing other than the plaques to identify it.

Gillian alighted from the back seat of the BMW, the door held open by Alvin. Despite showing acres of stocking-clad thigh and a flash of white satin panty when she ungainly and very unladylike struggled to get of the car, Alvin did not stare but simply offered her his hand to assist.

Gillian was wearing an ivory skirt and matching jacket, black long-sleeved silk Dior blouse and white high heels. Underneath she wore a white satin bra and panty set and shimmering, flesh-toned hold-up stockings. Her jewellery was simple but elegant and she had toned down her makeup but still wore her signature bright red lipstick.

Alvin waited patiently by the car as she pressed the call button and spoke into the intercom. He drove away when she was ushered inside.

"I'm Cecelia Flick, Amanda Grayson's assistant," a young woman greeted Gillian and showed her inside.

Cecelia was wearing a simple black skirt, matching jacket, white silk blouse, beige hosiery and black high heels. Her face was round and pretty and framed by a short black bob; she had big blue eyes, a cute nose and full red lips. She appeared childlike but sophisticated, almost like Betty Boop. Her voice was high-pitched but she spoke quietly.

Cecelia gave Gillian time to look around the entrance which was wood-panelled, richly carpeted and aristocratic with several overstuffed armchairs and dark wooden tables. She could see into a bar where a few men wearing suits were drinking and being entertained by elegantly dressed ladies. Doors leading to other rooms on the ground floor were closed. A large staircase with a wooden banister led up to the second floor.

"This is the waiting room where non-members are required to remain until their host collects them. Very few non-members are allowed inside the club and only by special appointment," Cecelia explained.

Cecelia kept her head bowed and couldn't keep eye contact with Gillian. He demeanour and body language reeked of subservience; Gillian's antennae attuned to the woman's servility. Gillian filed the information away for future use.

"Come," Cecelia turned on her heels and led Gillian to the staircase.

Gillian followed Cecelia upstairs, impressed by the opulence and grandiosity of the place. Works of art graced the walls, the carpeting was rich and obviously expensive; no expense had been spared on the decor. The long corridor on the second floor featured equally spaced identical doors on either side.

"The girls call them the workrooms but they are conventionally known as the entertainment and relaxation rooms," Cecelia said softly, noting Gillian's inquisitiveness.

"I bet there isn't much in the way of relaxation happening in them," Gillian said brusquely.

Cecelia blushed, bowed her head and kept walking until they came to a set of double oak doors at the end of the corridor where Cecelia paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"The club's administration centre and Amanda Grayson's office are beyond these doors," Cecelia explained.

She opened one of the doors and politely stood aside so that Gillian could enter before her.

Inside was an open plan office with half a dozen middle-aged women sitting at desks or scurrying around, obviously busy. All of the women were attractive, well dressed, and elegantly coiffed. Most wore business suits, all wore skirts or dresses, hosiery and heels; there wasn't a pantsuit in sight.

"We have a dress code," Cecelia explained needlessly.

"Hotel services, food and beverages, housekeeping, bookings and appointments, finance and bookkeeping, Cecelia ticked off each of the desks until they came to a closed door with a secretary's station in front of it.

"My desk," she nodded at the large oak desk guarding the door set with a brass sign with the word 'Manger' engraved on it.

She tapped softly and opened the door.

"Ms Gillian Dixon to see you ma'am," Cecelia said soft-spoken and reverently.

Amanda Grayson rose and came out from behind her desk.

She was a stunning woman in her middle thirties, Gillian guessed. Her shoulder-length, lustrous brunette hair was layer-cut and looked both professional and sexy. Her makeup was heavy, but skilfully applied. She favoured heavy eyeliner and mascara, wore rouge to highlight her sharp cheekbones and had applied matt plum-red lipstick to her sensuous lips. She too wore a business suit; designer label, tailored, with a short skirt and long jacket and a mauve satin blouse. Her long shapely legs were sheathed in expensive sheer hosiery and her heels had to be at least four inches.

Gillian hated her immediately.

"Gillian Dixon; so pleased to meet you Amanda," Gillian smiled sweetly and extended her hand.

Amanda returned Gillian's smile and shook her hand. Amanda's skin was soft and warm.

"Amanda Grayson, manager of Fleur de Lis, so pleased to meet you Gillian," she flashed perfect white teeth.

"You may go Cecelia," Amanda dismissed her aid.

Cecelia closed the door behind her while Amanda led Gillian to a comfortable chair with a coffee table set in front of it, Amanda sat opposite, smoothing her skirt under her and crossing her ankles, very ladylike.

"I'll dive right in shall I?" she did not give Gillian time to respond.

"Alfonso Carlotta for some reason has decided I need an understudy. I can't for the life of me think why he would, but here we are," Amanda patted Gillian's knee with false affection.

Gillian inwardly cringed but outwardly she patted Amanda's hand on her knee.

"Maybe because he's the boss and you have to do what he says," Gillian smiled sweetly.

Amanda quickly withdrew her hand and her smile vanished.

"Ok. That's the small talk done. Time to speak candidly. Alfie takes a fancy to a girl now and then, although you're the first of your type he's been with. Like uncle, like nephew I suppose. Tony had a thing for chicks with dicks too," Amanda lit a cigarette without offering one to Gillian.

"Usually he just passes his old girlfriends off for me to put to use in the workrooms shagging the punters for money but for some reason he seems to think that you need to feel that you're special," her upper-class intonation had disappeared, replaced by a broad Scouse accent.

"I bet he didn't tell you that you'd have to service the clientele did he? It's a condition of employment here that all female staff are available to club members if the member should so desire. Most of them stick to shagging the hostesses but some have special requests," Amanda ashed her cigarette and continued.

"Take that dullard Cecelia Flick. As you've probably guessed by now she has a docility about her that some of the punters like. You should see her, naked except for black stockings and high heels, chained to a post in the dungeon playroom. Her lily-white skin shows the welts from the whip exceptionally well," Amanda crushed out her cigarette.

"I'm sure there are some members that will want to fuck a tranny, just to try something a little different. Maybe hold onto your joystick while they fuck you up the arse," she smiled disparagingly.

"What's your speciality? Are you the one that likes to be shit and pissed on?" Gillian countered, calmly lighting her own cigarette.

Amanda paled then her face screwed up as she became enraged.

Gillian continued before Amanda could interject.

"I'm happy to start outside in the office to see how the place is run. If Alfie wants me to shag a club member or two, well so be it. It'll be better than giving Terry Belkin his weekly blowjob just so I can deal his coke. I'll have Cecelia get me sorted with a desk," Gillian crushed out her cigarette and stood up to leave.

Gillian sat on the corner of Cecelia's desk outside Amanda's office listening to Amanda scream at Alfie on the phone as they argued. Finally Amanda came outside looking beaten, her beautifully coiffed hair a little disarrayed.

"Find Ms Dixon a desk to work at and show her how this place works," Amanda sounded humbled.

To be continued