CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
2003- Slippery Slope
It was my birthday and I did not want to celebrate. I didn’t want anyone to call me and wish me happy birthday. I didn’t want to go out and do anything fun. I just wanted to be alone with myself and my thoughts and let my mind occupy my new age- 26. According to that lawyer, I had one more year left until it was crunch-time to get my shit together. Those words still haunted me.
The apartment was peaceful. Still and quiet- my roommates told me they weren’t expecting any sessions this week and Marisol had been whisked off to Cozumel by one of her sponsors. The glamorous life.
I was sitting in the living room, journaling, when Donya walked in. She was tall and gorgeous and glossy, yet somehow managed to give off an approachable, girl next door vibe, sort of like a Dominican LeToya Luckett.
“Hey, Eula whatcha writing?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure how much to give up, but the way I saw it was sometimes the best defense is the truth.
“Oh… well… it’s my birthday today and I’m not in any mood to celebrate, but I do want to get some feelings down,” I said and gestured to my notebook.
“It’s your birthday?” Donya asked “ Well, at the very least that calls for a bottle of champagne! Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”
She hurried off in the direction of the kitchen and came back a few seconds later with a bottle of Krug and 2 champagne flutes and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.
“You just happened to have a plate of chocolate covered strawberries lying around?” I asked.
Donya shrugged. “One of my Service Bottoms brought them over the other night.”
She set the plate and glasses on the coffee table and opened the bottle. The cork eased out with barely a sound. Next thing I knew I had a glass of champagne in my right hand. Donya sat herself across from me in the big velvet armchair.
This was going to be interesting.
“Well, cheers and happy birthday, roomie!” she said and raised her glass in a simple toast.
“Thanks, Donya,” I replied, “this is nice.”
“Yeah, well it’s quiet right now, so an unplanned bottle of champagne and an afternoon of girl talk sounds lovely to me.”
“Yeah?” I decided to bite. I could’ve been wrong but it felt like Donya was trying to draw me in to a sales pitch. “Do you guys have a set schedule here? I haven’t really been able to figure out what the routine is. Sorry if that’s being too nosy!”
“Ha, no not at all! I mean, you live here, so of course you’re trying to get a handle on the day-to-day, especially if you have some experience with this type of scene.”
“Nah,” I said shortly, “the work I’ve done is nowhere near the level of what you ladies have set up here. I just don’t understand how the money works. You guys don’t seem to use the dungeon very much.”
Now I was the one who was coming off like they were on a fishing expedition.
“Well, it’s actually a pretty cool set-up that Marisol and I managed to work out,” she began. “Lemme break it down for you.”
I took a sip of the crisp, flinty champagne and briefly held it in the back of my mouth before letting it slide down my throat.
Donya began to explain the premise- They got clients in the door by booking them as typical BDSM customers. Sessions started at $450 an hour. Once a client completed their first session, they were invited to make follow-up appointments as often as they liked.
“And we’re very clear that they don’t HAVE to book dungeon sessions. They can come and hang out if they want. It’s $300 an hour just to get in the door. Any services after that are billable line items.”
I raised an eyebrow. This was fascinating to me.
“And no- we’re not offering sex like that,” she clarified, “we’re not a brothel. Like, you’re not gonna book an initial dungeon session with us and then, from that point on come to us to fuck.”
“So, what’s your end game?” I asked. There had to be an end game.
“Our end game is to collect clients who are start out as your regular, run of the mill BDSM customer and get them converted to financial submissives and/or sugar daddies. Once we get them in the habit of paying $300 an hour just so they can hang out and get yelled at by us, then we can charge them more for spanking or, you know, like, cleaning the toilets while wearing our dirty underwear. And it’s really easy to break off the ones who are into being fin dommed- you just set those guys up with your PayPal info and have them give you money on a set schedule. Whenever the money hits your account, you give them a call and talk dirty to them for a few minutes, or have them come in for a spanking. If you do it right, it’s pretty easy to have a general idea of your monthly income flow. And whenever it looks like it’s gonna be a light month, you can start dropping sweet little hints pushing freaky fantasy scenes. The regulars will usually jump at that without even thinking of the price tag.”
This shit was FASCINATING.
“And summertime is always slow,” she went on. “That’s why Marisol is in Cozumel this week with her main sponsor. When she comes back, we’ll put out the word that we’re booking traditional BDSM and fantasy sessions for the regulars who haven’t headed out of town with the wife and kiddies.”
I didn’t want to bring up my next question, but I couldn’t stop myself. Blame it on the champagne.
“And where does my $600 a month fit in?” I asked. “I mean, I know that’s a lot of money to pay to rent a room in Washington Heights but you guys don’t really need it. Still, there’s got to be a reason.”
Donya gave a very light and easy laugh. “Well, Marisol and I love us some ‘Cita. And if she comes to us and says she has someone who she needs to make sure is set up properly, then we’re gonna look out. And if it’s someone who can afford to pony up $600 a month, sight unseen, then it’s more or less safe to assume everything will work out.”
I finally relaxed a little and smiled at her.
“But yeah, girl- you are lucky ‘Cita loves you as much as we love her!”
We both started laughing.
Donya picked up the bottle of Krug and motioned for my glass.
