Club Velvet 3
Copyright© 2025 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 25
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 25 - 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
Frank is at his desk, going over the numbers as well as checking in with his managers out of town. Everything seems good and the money is still coming in. They haven’t over stayed their welcome and people are still enjoying the club.
His phone rings and it is a number from California.
“Hello, this is Frank.”
“Um, Frank Devon? I hope.”
“Yes sir, this is Frank Devon. How can I help you?”
“Frank, this is Carter Knox. You don’t know me, but Kaia Bloom is a friend of mine. We’ve worked on some social events out here in California, mental health, homeless, you know that sort of thing.” Carter said, then paused for a moment. “She told me about Club Velvet and the experience she had there.”
“Good to hear, though discretion does prevent me from saying anything else about who does or does not come into my club.”
“Yes, that’s what I was hoping you would say.” Carter said excitedly. “That’s the way a professional acts. Yes sir.” Carter said, then chuckled. “I was wondering if you have a club like that in California? Or do I have to come all the way to Chicago to reserve a VIP suite?”
“Unfortunately, we do not have a club in California. We hadn’t thought much about it, but that does sound like a wonderful idea of including California in our business plan.”
“Damn.” Carter said, with a heavy sigh. “I guess I’ll have to make a stop in Chicago then.”
“Mr Knox, if I may be so bold, Velvet Entertainment just opened a club in New York City, Manhattan in fact. Are you going to be in New York any time soon?”
Carter gasped, “Yes, I’ll be there next week in fact. Where is the club? What’s the address?”
“Mr Knox, if Kaia referred you, then I’ll tell you. She is a special person around here and with her referral, I’ll give you the details. The club is called Velvet Reserve. It is a private club, not open to the public, only members are allowed in and there is a membership fee and paperwork that has to be signed before you roam freely. The club has a dance space, a full restaurant, private dance booths and VIP Suites. The cost of a VIP Suite is high, but with all of the other amenities, I think it is quite fair and worth it.”
Carter just listened to Frank explain the club. “May I join your club sir? If the club in Chicago can do for Kaia what it did, then I can only imagine what New York could do for me. I’ve been quite stressed out recently. I’m not married, haven’t really gotten to a point where I want a wife, and having sex with some random stranger on the street isn’t really what I want either. I need something more than ... well, you know what I mean.” He said, trailing off.
“Yes, I understand. You want someone to see Carter Knox as a man who needs attention and a safe space to unwind and let it all out. I understand completely. Here, let me give you the phone number to our manager in New York. His name is Marcus Yates. Please let him know that you spoke to me and have him contact me if necessary.”
“Thank you sir. Thank you very much.” Carter said, writing down the phone number and Marcus’ name. Carter thanked Frank profusely and then quickly dialed New York.
“Hello, this is Marcus. How may I help you sir or madam?”
“Marcus Yates, good afternoon. My name is Carter Knox and I just got off the phone with Frank Devon in Chicago. He gave me your number and said that I could reserve a VIP suite for an evening.”
“That is very good. If you would allow me, I need to verify that. Please hold the line.” Marcus said, and after Carter gave his consent, he put the phone call on hold.
Frank, I have a Carter Knox on my phone line. Did he speak to you about a VIP Suite?
Frank quickly sent back, Yes he did. He is friends with a VIP customer of our, Kaia Bloom. Kaia referred him to me and since he is going to be in New York next week, I hope that we have a suite ready for him by then.
Perfect. Thanks Frank. Yes we will have a suite ready for him. As a matter of fact, all of our VIP suites are ready for use.
Marcus, you are amazing. Well done. Take care and if he is a decent person, then invite him to join the club. I think that if VIP customers give us a referral, then we should test them out and invite them to join.
Yes sir, thank you sir.
Marcus disconnected from Frank and picked the line back up. “Mr. Knox, I just spoke to Frank and you are approved for a VIP suite rental. What day did you say you were going to be in town?”
Carter gave him his itinerary and the day was agreed upon. He was going to be at the club at six, have a lovely dinner with a pleasure consultant in the VIP suite, then spend the rest of the evening just the two of them. Total time for the rental was five hours. Carter paid the fee and disconnected from the call. He looked at the phone in his hand, marveling at how simple it was and how professional they both seemed to be.
Kaia. You busy? he says, sending a message through the WE.
Not really. Just planning and writing. What’s up?
I made a reservation at Velvet Reserve in New York?
What’s that? I thought I told you about Club Velvet in Chicago?
You did, but this is their new and exclusive, private club in New York City. I just made a reservation for next week. Thank you for the referral, your name got me in. The club is private, members only, but your name got me in the door. Thank you so much.
You are welcome, my friend. Have a good time and try to relax, will ya? You are working yourself to death. Kaia said with a giggle.
Ha ha, so are you.
They signed off and Carter went back to looking over his plans for the next big thing in the technology field.
The week flew by—and dragged—at the same time. Carter Knox was both too excited and too busy to think about anything beyond work. Ming Franklin, his personal assistant, was at his right hand through it all, helping where she could and deflecting the small stuff so he could focus.
On Friday evening, Ming sat in Carter’s office as he worked through a thorny coding issue. She was reviewing their itinerary for the upcoming trip to New York when she noticed something strange on his calendar—an entry she hadn’t put there. It was marked simply as “Private Time,” and blocked off the entire evening from 6 to 11 PM on Wednesday.
They were traveling to Manhattan for business meetings around their upcoming software launch, and she was supposed to know everything.
Carter yawned, stretched, and pulled his hands from the keyboard. Ming saw her moment.
“Carter,” she said, walking over with her tablet, “what’s this appointment on Wednesday night? I didn’t schedule this.”
Carter glanced at the screen. “That’s just a private meeting. Time alone. Nothing for you to worry about.”
Ming studied his face. He offered nothing. She let it go—for now.
That Sunday, they flew out of San Jose International Airport, bound for JFK. The flight was routine. Half the plane was packed with tech execs, and Carter had to exchange a few polite conversations in midair. Ming stayed alert in case she was needed, but thankfully, nothing required her attention.
Once they arrived, they checked into their Manhattan hotel and, per company policy, took separate rooms—right across the hall from each other. The company didn’t tolerate workplace relationships, and even though theirs had never crossed a line, the unspoken awareness was always there.
Meetings came and went—long, boring, technical. Carter hated explaining innovation to people who didn’t understand innovation. By Wednesday, after the final handshake and closing slide deck, “Private Time” rolled into view.
In the cab back to the hotel, Ming asked, “You’re still going to this ... private event?”
“Yes,” Carter replied, short and flat. He didn’t want to talk about it—not with her.
Back at the hotel, Carter showered and changed into a smart, understated outfit: tan slacks, a navy sports coat over a polo and loafers. When he stepped out of his room, Ming stepped out of hers.
“What are you doing? This isn’t something I need you at.”
“Too bad,” Ming said, unfazed. “I’m your PA. Where you go, I go. That’s how this works. So unless you want to be late—offer your arm.”
She had never challenged him like this. But there she stood in a simple black dress, low heels, no makeup but eyeliner and lip gloss, her curly hair pulled into a soft ponytail. Confident. Composed.
Carter looked at her—really looked—and for the first time, he didn’t see just an assistant. He saw a woman standing her ground.
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “We’re going somewhere I’ve never been. Kaia Bloom told me her experience in Chicago changed her outlook. This club—Velvet Reserve—is owned by the same people. I’m hoping to find something meaningful. If you want to back out at any point, just say so.”
“I know how to keep a secret, Carter. I’ve done it before.”
He gave a soft, relieved smile and offered her his arm.
They arrived at the high-rise, and Ming squinted up at the building.
“What company is in here? I’ve never been to this one.”
“You’ll see.”
They entered the lobby where Carter approached the front desk.
“Good evening,” he said. “I’m Carter Knox. I have a meeting upstairs at Velvet Reserve.”
The security guard nodded, escorted them to the elevator and swiped his badge. As the doors closed, Ming’s curiosity peaked.
“Velvet Reserve? That’s the name of the club?”
“It’s a private club,” Carter replied. “Same people who run Club Velvet in Chicago.”
Ming consulted the WE quietly. “That’s a strip club,” she said, surprised.
“Not exactly,” Carter said, just as the doors opened.
“Mr. Knox,” said the man waiting at the top. “I’m Sam, head of security. May I see your ID and that of your companion?”
Both handed over their identification. Sam scanned them, then slid across a pair of NDA forms. Carter raised an eyebrow. Ming looked amused.
“It’s standard,” Sam explained. “Protects everyone’s privacy—including yours.”
They both signed without protest.
“Thank you. Marcus will be right out to escort you.”
As they stepped aside, Ming leaned in. “Seems extreme for a night club.”
“Do you want our business partners to know we’re here?”
“ ... Good point.”
Moments later, Marcus approached with a professional smile and extended his hand.
“Welcome to Velvet Reserve, Mr. Knox. And you are?”
“Ming Franklin. His PA,” she said with a handshake. “He wasn’t going without me.”
“Very well,” Marcus said with a nod. “Right this way.”
He led them to a private elevator and up to the fifth floor.
At their suite, the door opened to reveal Isadora Lane—waiting in a white robe, standing like a living sculpture in the soft light.
She was average height, but radiant. Her skin glowed, a rich blend of sun-warmed bronze and honey. Her hair curled in waves at her shoulders, and her smile was as gentle as it was knowing.
“Carter,” she said warmly. “I’m Isadora. Your Pleasure Consultant for the evening.”
“You’re ... wow. You’re gorgeous,” Carter blurted, sounding like a stunned college freshman.
Ming cleared her throat loudly.
Carter blinked. “Sorry—this is Ming Franklin, my assistant. She insisted on joining me tonight, so if you’re okay with that...”
Isadora smiled and shook Ming’s hand, then touched her cheek briefly—reading something unspoken.
“That explains it,” she murmured, then turned back to Carter with a gentle smile. “I’m glad you’re both here. Please, have a seat.”
They settled onto the plush couch, Isadora sitting beside Carter—just close enough to read him.
“So,” she said, “you haven’t eaten since dinner. The restaurant downstairs is excellent. Would you like to dine there, or have dinner brought up to the suite?”
Carter and Ming exchanged a look and a decision was made between the two of them. “Downstairs please.”
“Very well. Let me get my dress on, and we’ll head downstairs for dinner,” Isadora said. She stood, walked over to the chair where her little black dress was folded, and slipped off her robe.
Carter and Ming watched in silence—until the robe fell. They both inhaled audibly, unable to help themselves.
Isadora paused, her dress in hand, and turned with a knowing smile.
She folded the dress again and walked over to the stunned customers, both with their mouths hanging open and their eyes bugged out.
Isadora knelt on the floor in front of them, placing one hand gently on each of their legs. Her movements were slow, deliberate—the real session had begun.
“Carter,” she said softly, “it’s okay. Give me your hand.”
He hesitated, his fingers trembling. Isadora took his hand in hers and guided it to her cheek, leaning into the touch just enough for him to feel her warmth.
Then she turned to Ming, taking her hand as well and placing it against her other cheek. For the first time, they both felt her.
Isadora then placed her own hands on their faces, a gesture full of calm intention. “Now,” she whispered, “do this to each other.”
Carter, still stunned and unsure of what was happening, turned toward Ming. He lifted his hand and placed it gently against her cheek, his eyes wide as he took in the feel of her skin—soft, warm, real.
Ming reached for him at the same time, her fingertips brushing his face—and that was it. Her breath caught, her eyes welled up, and tears began to slide down her cheeks.
Years of holding back. Years of hiding. Of watching him build empires and never noticing the one heart that beat beside him.
His face was firm beneath her hand, the stubble of his beard grounding her in the moment. His skin was warm—hot, even—and for the first time, she allowed herself to simply feel it.
Isadora said nothing, but she saw everything.
And the WE felt it too—connection, resonance, and something else: love. Pure, unfiltered, unspoken love, radiating from Ming like heat.
Carter didn’t recognize it. Not exactly. But he liked the way her hand felt on his cheek. He liked the way her touch made something shift—something open—in the center of his chest.
They stayed like that for a long moment, their hands gently resting on each other’s faces—intimate, vulnerable, and real. Carter shifted first, sliding his hand down the curve of Ming’s jaw to the soft edge of her neck and shoulder, his thumb tracing her skin as if memorizing it. His eyes never left hers.
Ming mirrored him, her fingers following the line of his jaw, then settling at the pulse in his neck where she could feel the beat of his heart. Steady. Alive. And hers.
They had forgotten about Isadora, their hands slipping away from her and toward each other—just as she had intended.
Their palms came to rest on each other’s shoulders, then slid slowly down the length of their arms until their fingers found one another. Their hands interlaced—palm to palm, no hesitation.
Ming leaned in, closing the space between them until her knees brushed his. Carter instinctively mirrored her, and their faces drew close. When their lips finally met, it was like something ancient and inevitable.
The spark between them was more than physical. The WE felt it too—an emotional ignition that burst into full bloom, overwhelming both of them. Ming’s love, long held in silence, rushed forward. Carter, stunned by the force of it, didn’t understand everything he felt, but he knew it was real.
Ming climbed into his lap without thinking, her body fitting naturally against his, her knees straddling him, her chest against his, her lips still locked to his. Their mouths opened, tongues met, arms wrapped around each other. Whatever doubts they had were gone. This—this was what they had wanted for longer than either had admitted.
Behind them, Isadora smiled gently and moved into action without a word. She stepped behind Ming, unzipped her dress, unclipped her bra with practiced grace, and slowly slid the fabric away. Ming didn’t stop kissing Carter. Neither of them even seemed to notice the loss of clothing—they were too busy discovering each other.
Once Ming’s dress was out of the way, Carter’s eyes moved to her bare chest. With a hesitant reverence, he slid his hand from her waist to her breasts, cupping them gently. Ming moaned, her desire spiking as his fingers explored the soft, firm curves of her chest—each touch sending shivers down her spine and stirring the warmth between her thighs.
Instinctively, Carter leaned in and suckled her nipples, like a child rediscovering a primal comfort. Ming held his head close, guiding him as he licked and kissed each nub, her body humming with sensation. She shifted his head from one breast to the other, wanting to share the bliss evenly, needing him to feel it as deeply as she did.
Behind them, Isadora moved with graceful timing. She reached around Carter’s body while he was still lost in Ming, and gently slid his coat from his shoulders. He paused for just a moment to let her slip it free, but the second his arms were bare, his hands returned to Ming’s body—as if they had nowhere else in the world to be.
Isadora peeled away his shirt next, and Ming eagerly placed her hands on his chest, brushing over the soft trail of light brown hair that graced the center. Their hands, their mouths, hardly left one another. They touched and kissed with a growing hunger, each movement opening new doors to intimacy.
Isadora positioned herself behind Carter, rubbing his chest in harmony with Ming. Her fingers slid over his skin, and she offered Ming quiet, subtle guidance—encouraging her to gently pinch his nipples. Carter moaned softly at the touch, surprised but not displeased.
She considered trying to coax them to stand and finish undressing, but the moment was too rich, too connected. So she let them stay exactly where they were—intertwined, learning one another.
Silently, Isadora reached behind herself and unclasped her own bra, letting her full breasts press softly against Carter’s back. She kissed his shoulders and spine with tender devotion, her hands moving fluidly between him and Ming—stroking Carter’s chest, caressing Ming’s waist, guiding them both as their love began to find its voice through touch.
Ming drew back slightly, breaking the kiss but not the touch. Her hands remained on him, her breath brushing against his lips. She opened her eyes and looked into his—so close, so full of hope.
“Carter,” she whispered, “would you make love with me?”
His eyes opened slowly, still heavy with wonder and sensation. He looked at her—his Ming—and her words sank into him like sunlight through water. His mind struggled to catch up, but his head nodded before he could speak, a silent yes born straight from his heart.
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