Brothel: The Magnolia Diaries Read online

  “Sorry, I think that was the last of it,” she says as she sits down.

  I instantly take her hand in mine and feel the smooth wedding band on her slim finger. Exactly two weeks after that weekend we spent together, Jane and I were married in a small ceremony with only her aunt in attendance. I was anxious to bind her to me as soon as possible and I would have gotten her pregnant a hell of a lot sooner but she wanted to wait and enjoy some time together just the two of us. She still resigned as my receptionist, which I eventually allowed when she said that she would be happy to simply take care of our house and create a home for us.

  “What are you thinking about?” She asks.

  I lean in and kiss her lazily before placing my hand on her thigh and squeezing firmly.

  “You, little fox. Always you.”

  The End

  The D

  By T.R. Cupak

  Copyright © 2016 T.R. Cupak

  All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute

  unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  FBI Anti-Piracy Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, in investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Editing by: Courtney DeLollis

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

  This story was written for a mature audience due to sensitive and graphic sexual content.

  Chapter One

  Derek

  It’s been a month since I graduated from Ole Miss with my Bachelor of Science in Business and here I sit in the waiting area of Devereux Incorporated, waiting for my interview with the man himself; Marcus Devereux. I’ve done my research on the company as well as the CEO, figuring this would be the best place for me to start my career with my new degree. Marcus Devereux didn’t get to where he’s at just sitting on his ass; I respect that. The man is brilliant although he does come with some questionable side business aspects, but that’s not what I care about. I care about paying back my mother every cent she has paid toward my college education.

  My father passed away from an aneurism when I was sixteen. It nearly destroyed my mother, but after two weeks of darkness she squared her shoulders, told me life goes on even when we want it to end, and reminded me to never give up. She’s my hero, there is really no other word to describe her. Monica, my mother, worked three jobs, insisting that if I stayed home for college she would make sure I could concentrate on my studies and not have to pick up a part time job to supplement my partial scholarship. As if that wasn’t enough, my graduation present was a month abroad, hence just now interviewing for my first adult job. I owe my mother everything. She’s an amazing person; always helping those in need even though she barely makes enough to survive on her own. I want her to have savings. I want her to be happy; work one job so she has time for herself. I want take care of the only woman in my life who deserves my love.

  There were two women at the front desk when I arrived at Devereux Incorporated and the one who introduced herself as Jane said she would personally let Mr. Devereux know I was waiting. As Jane walks away, the other young lady is left sitting at the front desk is doing her best to look busy but I keep catching her staring with that look of lust clearly evident in her eyes. It takes everything in my power to control the natural reaction of rolling my eyes at her blatant gawking. The sound of the intercom with Jane’s voice echoes off the lobby’s glass walls informing the receptionist to send me back.

  “Mr. Devereux will see you now,” the receptionist purrs as if I didn’t hear the voice over the intercom. She wets her lips before plastering on a I-Want-To-Fuck-You smirk, “His office is straight down the hall. Knock before entering,” were the last words out of her mouth.

  I stand, buttoning my suit jacket and nod in acknowledgment. It may be a dick move not saying a single word but I didn’t want to speak with the woman behind the desk. Yes, I realize I may be working with her soon and that’s exactly why I wasn’t about to encourage her flirting. I don’t have time to date and I definitely don’t shit where I eat. As instructed I head down the hallway with only the sound of my shoes clanking against the marble tile while the sound of my freshly pressed pants swish as I make my way to the closed double doors ahead of me. I thought this place would be busier but it is late on a Friday before a three-day weekend. It’s a ghost town. I take one last deep breath before raising my hand to knock.

  “Enter,” a muffled male voice says from behind the heavy wood doors. I don’t wait for a second invitation before I open the left door, stepping inside Marcus’ office which at first glance, I can tell is bigger than the two-bedroom apartment my mother and I shared until recently. “Please, take a seat over on the couch,” Marcus instructs, nodding towards the seating area off to the right.

  Jane leans down, whispering something to Marcus. His eyes are fixed on me with the look of intrigue while she continues to tell him god knows what. My nerves are already on edge and their hushed conversation has validated my feelings of unease and intimidation. His eyes never waver as I sit trying not to fidget under his stare. Fuck me! I feel like a fucking pansy right now. What the fuck is she saying and why is Mr. Devereux staring at me. I rack my brain trying to think if I said or did something to offend the beautiful woman speaking too soft for me to hear but I know for damn sure I was professional when I walked through the main doors to Devereux Incorporated.

  After a few minutes of excruciatingly quiet mumbling between the two, Jane places a soft kiss to Marcus’ lips, rounds his desk, and smiles at me with a Cheshire grin.

  “I’ll be seeing you Mr. Masters,” she says to me before turning back to Mr. Devereux, “and I will definitely see you later tonight,” she winks as she exits his office, leaving me alone with the man.

  Marcus stands, his impeccable dark blue, pinstriped, custom tailored suit screams money and probably costs more than what my mother makes in a month. He walks towards where I’m seated; I promptly stand to officially meet and shake the hand of the man I hope will soon be my boss.

  “Derek Masters,” I stammer slightly from my nerves as I jut out my right hand to shake his. “It’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Devereux,” I say more calmly as I grab his extended hand, giving him a strong hand shake.

  “Please, call me Marcus,” his deep voice insists. “Can I get you something to drink Mr. Masters? Maybe a Macallan 25 or perhaps a Grey Goose martini?” he offers. I’m a bit shocked at his offer since this is an interview, but I won’t insult the man. I’ve never had anything other than Jack Daniel’s or beer so this should be interesting.

  “I’ll have the Macallan if you are, sir,” my answer filled with pure fear not knowing if that was the right move. Now I’m second guessing myself thinking it was a test. Fuck; that quiet conversation between Marcus and Jane really rattled my cage.

  “You have an exceptional pallet Mr. Masters,” he says as he heads to the bar behind me.

  “With all due respect, please call me Derek, mist-Marcus,” I immediately catch myself and stop from calling him Mr. Devereux again.

  “Here, please sit,” he says as he hands me my drink and takes a seat across from me in one of the single high-back chairs. I take swig of the amber liquid with a sphere-shaped ice cube in it. Damn, that’s smooth. I need to be as smooth as this drink if I want this job.

&nbs
p; “Thanks,” is all I can muster at the moment. Real fucking smooth. I’m thrown at the casualness and leisure of this interview has taken on.

  “I’m not one for small talk so I’ll cut to the chase,” Marcus says in a tone which demands attention as well as respect.

  “Sir?” I question.

  “Jane has made it a point that I am to take special interest in you. Now, I can see why. Do you like money, Derek?” he asks.

  What the fuck kind of interview is this? Better yet, what kind of question is that? Who doesn’t like money? “Of course, Marcus. That’s why I’m here,” I state as a matter of fact.

  “Good, so I won’t keep dicking around. I’d like you to take a ride with me; after we finish our drinks of course.”

  “Marcus, I’m afraid you’ve lost me. Are you not interested in hiring me?” I ask after taking another drink from my snifter.

  “Oh, I’m interested but for a different position in one of my other companies,” he answers back.

  “Forgive my ignorance, but am I not good enough to be an employee of Devereux Incorporated?” I find my words to be on the curt side. It was unintentional but they came out before I could stop myself.

  Marcus arches his left brow at my question, swallowing the last bit of scotch he had. He’s studying me; I immediately regret asking that last question, wishing for those few seconds back.

  “Derek, did you not just answer my question about money?”

  “Yes, I did sir.”

  “Would you rather make a fuck-ton more money than any entry level position money here at DI?”

  Where the hell is this conversation going and why would I consider something else? Fuck. What do I say? Of course, I want to make a “fuck-ton” more money. I want to take care of my mother, but I don’t understand where he’s going with this. I know he has other ventures but based off of my research not one of them would make me the money he’s offering. Hell, none of them would make close to the money like the position I’m here to interview for. How could I make more money at one of them when this is his baby? Shit, maybe he wants me to fix the books or something crazy. Fuck-fuck-fuck. I’m all about making money but not that way. How do I get out of this without insulting the man from whom I really need this job?

  “Marcus, what are you getting at? You said no more dicking around yet I feel as though that is exactly what’s happening.”

  Marcus sets his snifter down on the glass table that separates him from me, taking a deep breath as he does so. Fuck. He takes out his cell, requesting his driver Malcolm to be out front in five, and then makes a second phone call to someone stating we will be there shortly. Key word, we.

  “Let’s go, Derek,” he commands when as stands, buttoning his slick suit jacket.

  I toss back the last of the smooth liquid that filled my glass, setting it beside Mr. Devereux’s on the table as I stand, buttoning my suit jacket once again. What will it hurt to find out where this incredibly awkward conversation slash interview is going? Worse case, I get stranded in the middle of nowhere still jobless.

  Five minutes later I find myself in the backseat of a sleek, phantom black Bentley Flying Spur V8 S with blacked out windows and seats that are as soft as butter. Damn, they are more comfortable than the bed I’ve slept on since I was fifteen.

  ***

  Marcus hands me another drink once the vehicle is in motion. I was definitely not prepared for the words that came out of his mouth just as I took a drink.

  “Derek, do you have a decent cock?” he asks without hesitation.

  My scotch gets caught in my throat; the burning brings tears to my eyes as I fight the urge to spit my drink all over the backseat of Mr. Devereux’s luxurious sedan, at the blunt question about my male appendage. After choking down the liquid, I grab my pocket square, wiping away my tears, as well as swiping away the residual liquid from my mouth.

  “Come again?” I question his inappropriate inquiry.

  “Your cock, Mr. Masters. Is it a decent cock or are you batting below average?” he asks once more; irritation clear in his tone that he had to ask me twice.

  Motherfucker. What the hell is going on here? Nowhere in my research did it say anything about Marcus being gay or bisexual. Why the fuck am I being asked a question about my dick.

  “Mr. Devereux, I’m clearly baffled and don’t understand what my cock size has to do with an entry level position at DI.”

  “It’s Marcus, do not make me tell you again,” he snaps. “Derek, you said you want to make a lot of money. I can make that happen; that is if you want to accept my offer, if you pass M’s assessment.”

  “M? Who is M?” I ask more dumbfounded than ever.

  “The Madame who runs my brothel, The Magnolia House. So, I will ask you one last time before I leave your ass on the side of the road; what are you packing in those slacks?”

  Brothel? What the fuck? Then, out of nowhere it all starts to click. I think I finally get where this whacked interview is going and the offer he wants to make. Fuck me. He wants me to be a male escort at Magnolia. Holy hell. I never dreamed of such a thing. Are male escorts really a thing? Is this something I want to do? Hell, is this something I can do? I may look like a womanizer but I’m not that douchebag. Then again, being a male escort, if that is where he truly is going with this, wouldn’t constitute as being a womanizer if they are paying for my services, right?

  “Sir, my cock is well above average, I can assure you. I was too busy to use it often while in college but I’ve never had any complaints other than it’s too big,” I finally answer with confidence.

  A fleeting smirk appears on Marcus’ face followed by a clink to my glass as we both take another swig of our scotch.

  “Good to know, Derek.” His poker-face back in place.

  “Are you going to give me any information after asking me a question like that?” I probe for a little more to go on other than the knowledge that I am on my way to a brothel to meet someone by the name of M.

  “You’re a smart man and I firmly believe you have figured out where this is going. We’ll both have all of our questions answered shortly. Sit back, relax, and enjoy your drink. We’re almost there.”

  That was the end of our conversation. The rest of the ride to Magnolia was in vociferous silence. I had so many questions racing through my mind and reservations about whether or not I could do this but I knew well enough this car ride was not the place to hash it out. I had to wait, again.

  Chapter Two

  Derek

  After the short but seemingly eternal drive from Devereux Incorporated to Magnolia House I was finally brought into the Madame’s office, the woman in charge. Her office was welcoming with an allure I can’t describe. The gorgeous, dark haired woman behind the desk was just as intimidating as Marcus, yet breathtaking. I couldn’t help but think what she would be like in bed until Marcus’ voice interrupts my inappropriate thoughts. I don’t know if it’s this place or what, but I have never treated women like pieces of meat. My mother taught me to respect women and that chivalry is not dead, yet.

  “M, this is Derek Masters. Derek, this is the Madame. For obvious reasons, we call her M. Anyway, enough of the pleasantries. Time is money but, more importantly I have a beautiful woman waiting for me at home so let’s get on with it. M, I know we’ve touched on the subject of bringing on male escorts to give the full fantasy experience to entice women to come to Magnolia as well; I believe this gentleman will be a great start,” Mr. Devereux says in a cool tone.

  Her curious eyes roam the length of my body, tilting her head just slightly as she takes in what I have to offer in a suit.

  “Well he definitely has the look in a well-tailored suit. Unfortunately, a suit isn’t what we need here. What about the cock?” she asks Marcus just as blunt as he asked me. M didn’t even glance back in my direction when she asked the question.

  “That’s your department. Derek, why don’t you show her? Prove to us that you’re batting above average.” Marcus
says to me with a cocky grin.

  I freeze in place. Fuck. Is this really happening? I ask myself again, is this what I want to do or can do? Everything is happening so fast my head is spinning. Not to mention all the long hours my mother worked, along with the thousands of dollars she spent for me to get a degree in business, yet here I stand, in a brothel, being asked to show a perfect stranger my dick. Mom would kill me, find a way to bring me back from the dead, and kill me again.

  Money. Lots of money. That’s what I keep repeating to myself. I need the money for my mom. Does it really matter where she thinks it’s coming from?

  M pushes back from her desk grabbing a pink robe that is draped on a chaise, tossing it in my direction.

  “One of the girls left this behind. As you can see, pink is not my color. You can change in my bathroom. I’m sure you’re secure enough in your masculinity to wear pink,” she says with a playful wink.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answer with confidence as I take the robe and turn towards her bathroom.

  A few moments later I emerge from the restroom wrapped only in the silk pink robe that has a soft perfume smell to it. Marcus’ back is to me as he was seated across from M while she was leisurely lying on the chaise. Both were engaged in a conversation which I can only assume was about me before she stops in the middle of her sentence and plasters a genuinely amused smile on her elegant face.