The area was kitted out so tastefully it was hard to imagine the sordid goings-on that it would no doubt be used for. It was already a huge success and word had spread quickly among the men. It was just a chilled out place for like-minded men to have a few drinks, talk business or if the mood took them to indulge in a bit of pleasure. That pleasure came in the form of top London call girls who were paid to cater for the men’s every whim. There were a few large booths so that the men could have some privacy with the girls should they choose to, which most of them regularly did. The men were happy because their wives would never find out, the girls were happy because they got tipped well for their services, and Paul was happy, because his little empire was raking him in an absolute fortune. There were drugs being handed around like Smarties up there, but Paul knew when to turn a blind eye. Drugs were a mug’s game, he would never fall victim to depending on them to get his rocks off. But, of course, there was money to be made supplying them, and Paul had a couple of guys there to make sure that his members got what they wanted. His stuff wasn’t cut with anything dodgy, so the men knew they were better off getting their gear here. It was not something that he personally got involved with, it just wasn’t his thing, but he was more than wise to the whole supply and demand thing, and if there was a demand, he would be sure to be the one supplying, it would be stupid not to.

The specially fitted big plasma screens flashed up scenes in the main part of the club, and were very popular with the members. The screens allowed them to watch young girls grinding about on the dance floor below them and to keep a general eye on those coming in and out of the club. There were cameras fitted everywhere in the club and the security and bouncers were shit hot; if anyone even looked like they wanted to kick off they would be dealt with immediately. With the things he had going on here, Paul wanted minimal trouble.

              With all this in mind and the right décor and music, the club had a vibe about it. It was the place to be, and Paul was like the cat that had got the cream. He smiled to himself as he looked around at the club; it had only opened last week and it was heaving, there were at least four hundred people in already and the night was young.

Emma handed Kate a shot glass and picked up her own from the bar.

              “To us, babes: the hottest girls in here,” she giggled, as she unsteadily lunged towards Kate.

Emma was pissed already, and it was only nine thirty in the evening. Kate wished they had slowed down on the shots now. She could more than handle her drink, but her friend was a bit of a light-weight. Kate had just wanted to have a good night; now she was worrying about her tipsy friend.

              “Em, you’re going to have to take it easy, babe; I’m not spending the night in the toilets again. This dress cost me the best part of my wages, and I’m not having you puking anywhere near it. Here, let me get you some water,” Kate insisted.

              “No, Kate!” slurred Emma. “I’m fine honest, I’m just enjoying myself. Chill out.”

              The music was booming, the DJ had worked in some of the best clubs in Ibiza and his tunes were going down really well; the dance floor was packed and as he played a new tune that had only just been released that month, everyone started cheering.

              “Oh my God, it’s our song,” shrieked Emma, as she dragged Kate towards the dance floor.

              Emma was singing along as she threw herself about on the dance floor, grinding sexily with any bloke who happened to be nearby. She wasn’t naturally pretty like Kate, but she did have two huge attractive assets, both 34E to be exact, and most men spent more time looking at them than her face. Emma wore too much makeup and always made sure that if there was a party going on, she was the main attraction. She and Kate had been mates since school, and although she thought the world of Kate she was a bit jealous of her too. Kate could give any model a run for her money. She was naturally pretty, she didn’t even need makeup. She was tall and skinny too, which always pissed Emma off as she couldn’t even seem to so much as look at a cake without gaining five hundred calories.

Emma had to work that bit harder when she was out with Kate to let the men know where the real action was: it generally worked, she had slept with so many she had lost count. She’d even managed to get herself a bit of a reputation, but she didn’t care. It was like a competition, which Emma was winning and in which Kate wasn’t even aware she was participating.

              The girls danced for what seemed like ages, then: “Em, babe, I need the loo, you coming?” Kate shouted over the banging music.

              “Yeah, babe, I could do with a break, this guy behind me is getting right on my tits now, keeps groping my arse every five seconds.”

              They both looked round to see a nerdy-looking guy smiling at them whilst putting his arms out towards Emma’s waist.

              “Urgh, get off you fucking loser,” Emma shrieked.

              Kate led her friend by the hand off the dance floor. “Ha, bet you thought you’d pulled some real fit bloke until you turned around,” she laughed. “Come on.”

The bathroom was done up to look like a posh boutique, with ornate mirrors and cosy expensively upholstered furniture; there were a couple of beauticians on hand to touch up the girls’ makeup. Whoever had set this up had a bit of class, Kate thought, looking around.

The toilets were packed. “Why is it that the women’s loos always have a really long queue even though we have more bogs than the men?” Emma moaned impatiently, as they waited for the cubicles to become free.

              “Probably because we’re all so busy standing around in here talking about the fellas and doing our make-up,” laughed Kate.

She was right though you could hardly move in here for there were so many girls hogging the mirrors and gossiping about so-and-so being pregnant and so-and-so cheating, it was worse than a playground: girls can be so bitchy, Kate thought. Just then, right on cue, a big feisty girl wearing a dress at least two sizes too small for her came marching up behind them, shoving Emma so hard in the back that she went flying and landed in a heap on the floor.

              “You cheap little slag, I hear that you think you have a chance with my Jake,” the girl snarled.

              Everyone was watching. Kate glared at her friend, unsure of what was going on. Emma seemed to be a magnet for trouble, what had she got herself involved in now?

              Emma picked herself up from the floor, trying to look at least a little bit dignified. Jake, she thought, oops. She knew she had a chance with him, or had already had her chance, she thought, remembering the drunken shag they’d had last Friday. He had been well up for it, she had recalled. She had been out with the girls from work and had bumped into him in a bar in the high street. He invited her to join him and a few of his mates at their table and they had bought her drinks all night. Jake was quite a giggle, she had thought at the time, and flattery had got him literally everywhere. He had put his hands up her skirt and whispered in her ear, telling her how hot she was making him. He told her how much he wanted her as he had slid his hands higher up her thigh and she had felt his fingers probing inside her knickers; he had made her feel so horny that she hadn’t cared if he had a girlfriend. They didn’t even make it back to her place, she thought, remembering how hard he had taken her on the back seat of his car and how he had kept groping her breasts like they were his brand new toys. He was a good-looking fucker too, she remembered, but he didn’t really do it for Emma, too busy getting his own pleasure she recalled, all four minutes of it. It had all been a bit disappointing, really, and not worth this amount of shit.