Club Velvet 3
Copyright© 2025 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 22
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 22 - 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
The Devon pack—all seven of them—arrived in New York City, swept up in the thrill of a new adventure. The adults took in the moment with the calm confidence of seasoned travelers, while the children chattered excitedly, pointing out every new sight as their passenger bus wound through the bustling city streets from the airport to Grant’s home.
Veronica, visibly pregnant, led the way with her rounded belly, waddling more than walking through the airport with a hand on her lower back. After a much-needed stop at the nearest restroom, she rejoined the group and followed along at her own pace.
The reunion at Grant and Marisol’s house was joyful and loud—exactly as it should be. The women embraced in a flurry of laughter, kisses, and happy tears, while Grant and Frank exchanged shoulder slaps and made sure the luggage was brought in and sorted.
Baby Jessica was hugged, kissed and fawned over as they settled into the family room, one big happy and noisy group of friends/family.
Plans for the following day were reviewed. After a full walkthrough of the club and an inspection of the construction and finishing touches in the public areas, their new chef would prepare a meal for the team on-site. In just a short span of time since Frank was in town, hundreds of support staff had been hired to keep the club running smoothly—everyone except the dancers, who had yet to be brought on board.
The rest of the day was spent at home hanging out and just being together.
The next day began with a relaxed breakfast before the women headed off for a luxurious spa visit while the men stayed behind to talk business. When the ladies returned, everyone—including the kids and baby—dressed up and piled into a rented van bound for the club. Frank turned in his seat to face the children. “My loves, I want you to know this is a big day for Uncle Grant and me. This club is very important to us, and we’ll be meeting with adults in an adult environment. So I need you all to be on your best behavior, understood?” He gave each of them a meaningful look. “I love you, and I know you’re capable of being absolutely wonderful—so show me.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Do I have to?”
Jane raised an eyebrow at the youngest, and after a short pout, the reluctant child gave in with a grumble. “Fine ... I’ll behave.”
At the club lobby, Marcus and Elana greeted Frank and Grant with warm smiles. Marcus wore a freshly pressed suit; Elana, a sleek, professional dress paired with understated heels. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged as introductions circled through the group.
“I know we’re a large and varied bunch,” Frank said with a chuckle, “but I hope we’re not overwhelming anyone right out of the gate.”
“Not at all, sir,” Marcus replied smoothly. “We’ve been looking forward to this—an opportunity to serve your pack and showcase what we’ve built. Please, follow us to the restaurant level.”
They entered a separate elevator, and when the doors opened, they stepped into a beautifully appointed reception area. A poised woman in a fitted black dress stood behind a hostess podium, her hair styled in a neat bun. Her smile was warm and effortlessly welcoming.
“Welcome to Velvet Reserve,” she said. “I’m Julie. If you’ll follow me, please.”
Frank and Grant exchanged a glance and a subtle nod—this was exactly the energy they had hoped to create.
The children looked around curiously at the pristine tables, set with gleaming flatware and folded napkins.
“Mom, why are all the tables empty?” Ezra asked.
Lisa leaned down and took his hand. “Because the restaurant isn’t open yet, sweetheart. Tonight, we’re the very first to eat here.”
Frank pulled out chairs for Lisa, Jane, and Veronica, while Grant did the same for Marisol. Booster seats were brought for the little ones. The waitstaff emerged shortly after—white shirts pressed, black pants crisply creased, polished shoes shining. Each moved with calm efficiency and pride in their presentation.
Chef Lucien Moreau stepped forward. His crisp white coat was spotless, apron tied with care, and his bearing was calm but confident.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m Chef Lucien Moreau, and it is my honor to present tonight’s dinner—a preview of the menu I’ve crafted for Velvet Reserve.”
He glanced at the children and smiled. “I’ve also prepared special dishes for our youngest guests. Everyone deserves to feel welcome at the table.”
Turning back to the adults, he continued.
“My training is in French cuisine, but this club isn’t about pretension. It’s about comfort, quality, and connection. So tonight, you’ll see familiar flavors presented with the utmost care. Flavors that feel like home, but elevated just enough to remind you this is a special place.”
He listed the courses, each more enticing than the last, then concluded: “My goal here is not just to serve food—but to create an experience. I hope you enjoy.”
Soon after, the meal began. Each course was thoughtfully presented and delicious, culminating in a dessert that left everyone leaning back from the table, rubbing their bellies in satisfaction.
“Elana, is everyone still here? I’d like to speak to them and let them know how well they did,” Frank asked, turning to her.
“I’ll check,” she said with a smile. She dabbed at her lips with her napkin, rose gracefully, and slipped into the back. Moments later, she returned, guiding the kitchen and wait staff out to line up near the table.
Frank stood and stepped forward to address them.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m Frank Devon, and this is my business partner, Grant Lockwood. These wonderful people you served tonight are our family. So when I say you’ve served us well, I mean that on the deepest level.”
He motioned to each of them and made quick introductions, naming each family member seated at the table.
“I’m telling you this because family matters to me—and to this club. I’ve spent my career creating places where people feel welcome. I own clubs in Metro City, East St. Louis, and Chicago—each one built on that same foundation.”
Several of the staff murmured when he mentioned Club Velvet.
“Ah, some of you recognize the name. Good. That means you understand the legacy you’ve joined. Velvet Entertainment owns this club, and as of tonight, you are part of that family.”
He turned to Lucien. “Chef, that meal was spectacular. I hope you can keep this level of excellence going—because you’ve set the bar incredibly high.”
Lucien stood tall. “I intend to exceed it, sir.”
Frank nodded. “That’s what I like to hear.”
He turned back to the staff. “And just one more thing I want to say—no matter who comes through those doors, treat them well. You may see celebrities, billionaires, world leaders. But none of that matters. They are people—guests—and everyone who walks into Velvet Reserve deserves respect, warmth, and care.”
Someone in the line snorted quietly at the mention of presidents. Frank turned, fixing him with a calm look.
“You doubt me?”
The man met Frank’s eyes and shrugged. “Sounds a little far-fetched.”
Grant stepped in. “There have been two presidents and several prime ministers in our clubs. We’ve hosted them in Metro City—and I assure you, it’s not fantasy.”
“Who?” someone asked.
“I can’t say,” Frank replied simply. “Security agreements. But I’ll tell you this—their presence didn’t change how we treated them. No titles. No special treatment. Just good service and a warm welcome.”
The staff murmured again—but this time, with respect.
“Thank you again for an incredible evening. Tonight, you served not just food, but something far more important: a vision of what this place can be. And you nailed it.”
He turned to Grant, smiling. “Anything you want to add, partner?”
Grant stood beside Frank, his expression calm but sincere as he looked over the staff.
“I don’t have much to add to what Frank said — he covered it well. But let me tell you this: Velvet Reserve is not just a job. It’s not just a restaurant or a club. It’s a place that people are going to come to when they need something real — comfort, connection, maybe even healing.” He let that hang in the air for a second before continuing.
“People coming through those doors might be carrying more than you can see. So your kindness, your professionalism, your pride in your work — that’s part of the magic here. That’s what makes this club different. It’s not about status. It’s about experience.”
He gave a small smile.
“You don’t need to know a customer’s name or title to make their night memorable. You just have to care. If you do that, you’ll make this club legendary — and we’ll all be proud to have built it together.”
“Thank you partner, I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Frank said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Have a good evening and when I’m in town, I hope to see all of you again.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.