Club Velvet 3
Copyright© 2025 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 17
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 17 - Book 3 of the Club Velvet story series. Frank Devon, his pack and the stories that come out of his strip club in the world of the WE and their 10 rules. See book 1 for background on the WE stories and the author who created them.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
Grant was in his office, buried in newspapers and reports from his team on individuals seeking financing for various projects. He was so focused, he didn’t even notice his very pregnant wife waddling in with a wicker picnic basket on her arm.
“Sir, you have a visitor,” his secretary said, stepping in to announce Marisol as she escorted her into the room.
Grant looked up, startled. “Marisol! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home resting or something?” He rushed around the desk and helped her into a chair.
“Oh, poo on you,” Marisol replied with a playful scowl. “Women have been doing more than carrying picnic baskets for centuries. I came to have lunch with my husband.”
“But the doctor said—” he began, but she cut him off mid-protest.
“Nonsense. What does he know? He’s not even a woman. I’m fine. Now sit. Eat.” She began unpacking the basket with practiced efficiency.
As they chatted over lunch, a twinge of pain crossed Marisol’s belly. Calmly, she pulled out her phone, tapped her labor tracking app, and pressed the button to mark the beginning of a contraction. Then she looked back up and continued listening to Grant as he told her about the latest attempts to swindle his company.
When the contraction eased, she hit the “end” button on her app.
“Wait—was that a contraction?” Grant asked, now watching her more closely.
“It was. But it’s fine,” she said, waving it off. “Now, go on. You were telling me about the club’s progress. You said it’s almost ready?”
That question successfully redirected him. He lit up and pulled out a few folders and pictures, detailing every milestone of the project with growing enthusiasm.
Another contraction came. Marisol logged it quietly, not wanting to interrupt him.
Then she caught something in his speech and raised an eyebrow. “Hold on, honey. Are you saying you’re going to invite only business associates to the Reserve Club? Because that sounds like you’re using our employees and the club itself as leverage.”
Grant froze. She was right—and he hadn’t even realized it.
“Crap,” he muttered, deflating as he dropped into the chair beside her. “That’s not what I meant to do. But you’re right. If I invite just business people, it’ll look like I’m buying favors.”
Marisol pushed herself out of her seat—grunting slightly—then lowered herself into his lap sideways. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed his head gently to her chest. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We don’t have to decide today. We have time.”
She held him quietly for a moment, then added, “Maybe instead of inviting who you know, ask the WE who needs a space like this—where people can meet without titles, politics, or money being part of the conversation. I’m sure they know people who would thrive in that kind of setting.”
Another contraction started, stronger this time. She hit the button again, her face tightening slightly.
“That was fast,” Grant said, alarmed. “Are you sure we don’t need to go to the hospital yet? The doctor said five-minute intervals, each lasting a minute, for an hour. But these seem to be coming on faster than that.”
Marisol paused, breathing through it. When it passed, she gave a small nod. “Okay. Maybe you’re right. Let’s go. I think this little one isn’t going to wait long.”
Grant was already up, helping her to her feet. He grabbed his jacket, shut down his computer, and took her gently by the arm. As they walked out, the entire office gathered near the elevators to see them off—offering smiles, cheers, and warm encouragement.
Marisol, between contractions, sent a quick message to her sisters: Lisa, Veronica, Brianna, and Tiana. It’s time. Baby’s coming fast.
In Chicago, Veronica was in the middle of a dance when Marisol’s message arrived. She stumbled mid-performance, froze, then read and reread the message. A moment later, she bolted backstage to get dressed.
Upstairs, Lisa got the same message. She didn’t pause—she simply leapt to her feet, dashed across Frank’s office, and burst in, breathless and barely coherent.
“Baby! Marisol! Labor! V and I are going! Love you!” she blurted, kissed Frank’s cheek, and vanished.
Frank calmly got up from his desk, made his way downstairs to the main floor, and took a seat at the bar. He ordered a mocha latte—hot, with an extra shot—and sipped as the whirlwind swept through the club and out the doors.
Lisa and Veronica were already in the Escalade, racing toward O’Hare. Frank had prepped everything: the parking, the airline, even the flight details. Tell them we love them all, he said through the WE as they screeched into a parking spot and sprinted to the counter.
Two first-class tickets to New York City were secured thanks to a helpful agent who found them a fast American Airlines flight. The flight wouldn’t take more than three hours.
At the gate, they clutched hands while trying to get updates from Marisol. Their excitement was infectious. When boarding began, they were first in line.
“Something important is happening?” the gate agent asked, smiling at their energy.
“Our best friend is having her baby!” Lisa beamed.
“Can we just leave now?” Veronica added. “I want to be there now.”
The agent laughed and waved them on.
Meanwhile in New York, Grant and Marisol had made it to the hospital, their hired car weaving through traffic. The WE monitored both Marisol and the baby as labor progressed faster than anyone expected.
Once admitted, she was already halfway through. Dressed in a gown, calm but focused, she was soon moved to a delivery room.
The doctor arrived, checked her, and raised his eyebrows.
“She’s almost there. Let’s get ready.”
Nurses rolled in carts and equipment, the bed adjusted, and Marisol was gently guided into position.
A nurse handed the doctor a small tool. He gently broke her water, and the fluid gushed onto the floor to be dealt with later.
Marisol groaned—this contraction was serious. Grant held her hand as they breathed together, eyes locked on each other just as they’d practiced.
“Okay, Marisol,” the doctor said, sitting between her legs. “Give me a good test push. Let’s see how this little one is positioned.”
Grant supported her back as she curled forward and grunted with effort. “NNNNNNNN!”
“One big push and she’s moving,” the doctor said with a grin. “Julie, we’ve got a little one in a big hurry.”
The nurse appeared instantly, towel ready.
“That was incredible,” the doctor said. “Give me another just like that and it’s happy birthday.”
Marisol bore down again, her whole body tightening—and then came the miracle.
The baby slid into the doctor’s waiting hands, a wail bursting from tiny lungs just seconds later. “It’s a girl!” the doctor declared.
Grant staggered back in pure relief. Tears welled in his eyes as the doctor clamped and cut the cord, and then laid their daughter on Marisol’s chest.
They both cried—Marisol sobbing joyful tears as she pulled down her gown and guided the baby to her breast. The little one latched immediately and began to suckle.
Once she was done, the nurses gently took her for cleaning and measurements. She weighed in at a healthy 7 pounds, 12 ounces, and measured 21 inches long. Wrapped in a pink blanket, a tiny pink hat on her head, she was brought back to Marisol, who held her close once more. Grant leaned over them both, arms wrapped around his wife, whispering words of awe and love. His praise poured out—unfiltered and unending. He had just witnessed something miraculous.
When the flight from Chicago landed, a driver with a sign stood ready. DEVON was written in big letters on it as Lisa and Veronica ran through the airport. “There.” Lisa said, spotting the sign first. They both ran toward the man and recognizing them both, turned and moved quickly to the waiting car just outside the door.
Veronica and Lisa jumped into the back seat and slammed the door as the driver did the same thing. The car was moving even before they had their seatbelts on. The driver, professional and honest, told them that it was going to be a few minutes, but he knew where he was going as he wove through traffic.
Lisa and Veronica just held hands in the backseat willing the car to go faster and the traffic to get out of the way. It didn’t work, but the WE recorded the possible need for emergency management of this sort of thing to be dealt with later.
The car skidded to a stop at the front entrance, Veronica and Lisa jumping out just as the car came to a complete stop. They ran in, the lady behind the desk was warned and pointed to the right, “Down the corridor, then up the elevator to the birthing center. You can’t miss it.” She shouted as two very excited women ran through the building.
They arrived at the door and stopped. Both out of breath, sweating from excitement and adrenaline, they tapped on the door and peeked inside. Grant was right there, arms open wide for a hug, but Lisa and Veronica moved right past him as if he wasn’t there and went to Marisol and the baby that she was nursing.
“I helped.” Grant said with mock indignation.
The women gushed over how beautiful the baby girl was, all talking a mile a minute over one another as the bundle of joy was passed around. Veronica and Lisa each took a deep breath of the baby’s scent, sighing with delight at the unmistakable new baby smell. Grant stood back with his arms crossed, proud to be a father and deeply grateful to have friends like the Devon family in his life.
Back in Chicago, Frank stayed at the club after word had gotten around after Veronica’s and Lisa’s very abrupt departure. He spent time assuring everyone that their friend had their first baby and nothing else was going on. Lisa was fine, Veronica was fine, both still loved working here and both would be back in a couple of days. “Everything is fine.” He kept saying to everyone. By day’s end, he had to share a picture of his wives holding a new baby to prove to everyone that they were fine.
The next day, Frank, Jane, and the kids boarded a plane to New York. Frank wanted to catch up with Grant for sure, and seeing the new baby was just a wonderful bonus.
The kids had been told to wear proper clothes since it would be cooler in New York than back home in Chicago—a directive that earned a round of groans. But they complied, knowing the trade-off was worth it: a trip out of town and a day off from school. Their teachers had already sent them the day’s lessons through the WE, so while they wouldn’t miss out on the knowledge, they’d skip the group practice for once.
When they arrived at the hospital, the family moved calmly through the halls to the maternity ward, a quiet contrast to the whirlwind arrival the day before. There, waiting at the elevator, was Grant—his arms already wide open.
“Buddy,” he said with a grin, pulling Frank into a warm, familiar hug between old friends.
“Welcome to fatherhood.” Frank said, once the hug was released. Grant hugged Jane who had tears in her eyes from feeling the love in the room. Grant greeted the kids who were not as enthusiastic about meeting Grant as the adults were.
“Come on, you have to meet Jessica.” Grant said, then moved quickly down the hall to Marisol’s room.
When they entered the room, all three of the women were sitting together in the bed holding the baby, saying goo-goo gaa-gaa to it and generally celebrating with Marisol who looked tired in spite of the short labor and quick delivery.
He went to his wives, kissed each of them and then gave Marisol an air kiss congratulating her on the delivery of such a beautiful baby.
“What is her name? Grant said Jessica, but he didn’t tell me the rest.” Frank asked. The kids moved to the moms and looked at the baby over the edge of the bed. Veronica picked up Isabella and put her on her lap so that she could see the baby. Sofia was on Lisa’s lap to do the same thing. All of the women were not ooh’ing and aah’ing over the baby and Frank, Grant and Ezra just stood off to the side.
“Jessica Beatrice Lockwood is her name.” Grant said once the men had time to talk.
“Jessica Lockwood. Jessy Lockwood. JB Lockwood. All very good Grant. I like it.” Frank said, going through all of the variations of Jessica’s name, trying them on for size.
When the baby started to cry or fuss, Marisol quickly pulled her gown to the side and put Jessica in place. She latched on and ate from her breast. Ezra didn’t know what to do with his eyes. He had never seen such a thing happen before and didn’t know what to do.
“Dad? Should I be here while she is...” he tried to ask but not knowing the right words.
“Sure you can be here. Why?”
“I don’t know, never seen it done before,” he admitted.
“Well, your moms fed you like that when you were that size. So you have seen it, but you were very, very little at the time.”
“How often is she going to have to do that?”
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