Chapter 16

Sunday dawned quiet and rainy. Frank arrived at the club early, well before opening, and took a seat at the bar, waiting for the VIP listed under the name Barney Rubble.

That name, of course, was an alias.

The man behind it was Travis Walker—chart-topping country star, crossover sensation, and one of the most recognizable voices in modern music. His record label had carefully curated his rise, but today, Travis was stepping off the stage and into something far more personal.

“You don’t have to go with me, honey,” he told his wife, Kara, as they got dressed side by side in their hotel suite. “I’m sure it won’t be weird or anything. Kaia said they were professional.”

“I’m coming to keep you out of trouble,” Kara replied with a sultry purr, slipping close and placing her hand on his chest. “Besides, if they’re as good as she says ... maybe I’ll take part too.”

“I love you,” he growled, lifting her into his arms and kissing her like they hadn’t been married for years.

Their manager barged into the room without knocking, clipboard in hand and panic on his face at seeing them both dressed and preparing to leave. “But ... but ... the interviews! The publicity shoot—!”

Neither of them broke stride as they moved past him and hit the button for the elevator. Travis and Kara walked past him and into the elevator without so much as a glance back.

Travis tucked his long, tousled hair beneath a ball cap and pulled a hoodie over the top. Kara twisted her honey-brown hair into a bun and followed suit. Two everyday people heading out into the rain.

Their car—reserved under Barney Rubble—was already waiting. No one would know where they were going. That was the whole point.

When they arrived, the neon glow of Club Velvet confirmed they were in the right place. Travis stepped out first and opened the door for his wife, who hurried inside, brushing raindrops from her hooded sweatshirt.

A towering man stood just inside the door—arms like tree trunks, but his expression was warm and welcoming. Gut, the club’s head of security, greeted them with a gentle smile.

“Good morning. Welcome to Club Velvet. How can I help you two?”

Travis kept his head low. “Uh, I made a reservation for the VIP Lounge. Under the name Barney Rubble.”

Gut scanned his clipboard. “Yes, Mr. Rubble. You’re expected. Frank is waiting for you.” With practiced ease, he set the clipboard down and opened the interior door for them.

Travis and Kara entered hand in hand. The soft pulse of music and warm, inviting lighting greeted them like a hush of velvet itself. Frank stepped forward, his hand extended in welcome. “Hello. I’m Frank Devon. Welcome to my club. Come with me, I’ll show you to your lounge.”

As they walked through the club toward the private elevator, Kara leaned closer to Travis and spoke softly through the WE link. This place is way nicer than I expected.

The elevator ride was brief and quiet, but not awkward. They were nervous, yes—but this wasn’t their first time navigating unfamiliar rooms.

This, however, was something new. Something ... intimate.

When the elevator doors opened, they were greeted with soft blue and white lights and the smell of sandalwood. The calming lights and smells did their work on their souls instantly. Both took a deep breath and felt better right away.

Frank opened a door and welcomed them both inside. “This is your lounge and this is your dancer Rita. Take as much time as you need, this room is virtually yours for the day.” Frank said, shook both of their hands and left them alone.

Rita was standing in front of them, dressed in a white terry cloth robe with the Club Velvet logo emblazoned on it above her heart.

“Good morning, I’m Rita.” She said warmly.

“Hi, I’m Barney and this is my wife...”

“Betty.” She said, stepping forward and shaking Rita’s hands.

“Well, welcome and please, take a seat. We can take a minute or two to talk if you like. I had many of our best drinks here for us if you like.” Rita said moving to the cart along the wall and showing them what is available.

“Oh what are these?”

“This is pineapple, my favorite. That is strawberry, very good and this last one is a simple cucumber water, quite refreshing.”

Travis had finally pulled his hoodie back and taken off his ball cap, letting his hair down. Kara followed along with him, letting her honey blonde hair down as well. When Rita got a look at the couple, she had to pause for a moment, the face she was looking at was someone she knew from the records and music she loved. “Travis.” she whispered.

As they settled on the couch, Rita started the conversation to get a feel for how and what she was going to do for the couple.

“Well, I’ve been quite busy with work and stuff. We haven’t been able to get away from work in so long that we haven’t even had a chance to breathe. I was hoping that we would reconnect in some way, if nothing else.” Travis said, taking Kara’s hand in his.

“He’s right. We only see each other when we’re either going to bed or sitting next to each other on a bus or a plane. Even then, we don’t have time to talk privately.”

“Well, I want you both to know, other than me and the WE, no one is going to know what goes on in here. This is a safe place both emotionally and physically.” Rita said to them as softly and warmly as she could.

“I have a massage table set up, I have been told that I’m very good at it, which of you wants to go first?” Rita continued.

Travis looked at Kara and after a moment of negotiations, Kara had to make a decision for them. “You go, this day is for you.”

Travis shrugged his shoulders and stood up from the couch. He took off the hoodie as Rita moved to the far side of the massage table and took her robe off. She had been wearing only a black lace and satin bra with tight black satin panties. She unfolded a large towel and laid it on the table then picked up another one as Travis moved to the table wearing only his briefs.

Kara had taken her hoodie off and slipped off her shoes and socks as she took up position on the couch watching her husband. She tucked her legs under her and sipped her drink comfortably.

Travis put himself face down on the table, Rita covered his body with the big towel and then moved to his feet. She covered her hands in the warm massage oil and went to work on his feet. Pressing the pressure points the WE was showing her and stretching his toes getting him to relax. She folded the towel and moved up to his calves, using more oil on her hands and really pressing the muscles trying to get them to relax.

Kara watched Rita work. She sipped her drink slowly, eyes fixed on the firm, practiced movements of the other woman’s hands as they moved over Travis’s legs. When Rita reached his hamstrings, Kara saw it happen—his whole body softened. His shoulders lowered, his breathing slowed, and those little involuntary sounds he made when something just felt right ... they slipped out like sighs.

But Kara wasn’t just watching Travis—she was watching Rita too.

Dressed in nothing but a simple bra and black panties, Rita moved with unshakable ease. There was nothing forced or artificial about her. Her body—athletic, strong, and feminine—shifted with precision and grace. Her breasts hung naturally as she leaned into her work, her flat belly tensing with each deep stroke. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t fidget, didn’t shrink or shy away from the closeness.

There was a freedom in her, Kara realized.

A woman completely at home in her skin.

And as she watched, something stirred—not jealousy, not desire—just ... admiration.

This woman was made for this.

And Travis, for the first time in a long time, was letting go.