Club Velvet 4

Her voice cracked. Dad ... that’s not very nice.

Marriage isn’t nice, sweetheart, he said casually. Marriage is work. It’s suffering. It’s day in, day out, trying to get through without hating each other. I don’t wish it on anyone.

Julie’s breath hitched as tears welled up in her eyes. Brian tightened his embrace as she began to cry.

Her father’s tone softened slightly. Look ... I’m thrilled for you. I remember Brian. He’s a good kid. Good luck, take care.

The call ended.

Julie crumpled, her face buried in Brian’s chest as sobs tore through her. The rejection, the indifference—the sheer absence of love—broke something open in her. Brian held her close, rocking her gently, his heart breaking alongside hers.

“It’s okay,” he whispered over and over, brushing her hair as she wept. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Julie spent long minutes sobbing, her tears soaking through the fabric of Brian’s shirt as he held her without letting go.

When the storm finally passed, she slumped against him, spent and trembling. He handed her a box of tissues, and she wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and gave him a faint, watery “Thank you, honey.”

Brian kissed her temple softly, whispering, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

But then—she shifted suddenly, her body going tense as she pulled back just enough to look him dead in the eye. There was no softness left in her voice, only sharp, urgent truth as she gripped his shirt in her hands.

“Don’t ever stop loving me,” she said, her voice low and fierce. “Hate me, love me—I don’t care. But don’t you ever be like them. Not ever. Promise me, Brian. Feel something—anything—for me. Just don’t ... don’t disappear on me. Don’t turn cold.”

Her eyes, still rimmed with tears, locked onto his with desperate intensity. Her hands stayed fisted in the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself to the only warmth she could trust.

Brian was taken aback by her intensity, but didn’t flinch. He recognized her fear and did the only thing he could. He put his hands around hers and maintained his focus on her. “I promise.”

Julie relaxed, the stress of the WE calls, the intensity of the moment, caught up with her and she fell over onto his bed bringing him with her. She threw a leg over his legs and snuggled up against his body and fell asleep.

Brian held her, not knowing what else to do for her, except hold her.

Mom, could you bring me a light blanket? Brian asked his mom through the WE.

She arrived moments later carrying a knit blanket from the living room couch and draped it over the pair. She reached out to smooth her hair then withdrew from the room giving him a kiss on the temple while smoothing his hair as well. She closed the door and let them recover.

When Julie woke up, she was alone in the bed, the soft weight of a knit blanket pulled over her arms. She sat up, blinking in the afternoon light, and spotted Brian across the room, seated at his desk with several books spread out in front of him. He was taking notes, underlining, highlighting—his brow furrowed in concentration.

A tender smile touched her lips. In that quiet moment, she knew deep in her heart that he was going to succeed—that he would build a life for them, that he would love her until the end of his days. And thanks to the WE, that could mean a very long time—an eternity, perhaps.

Moving quietly, she slipped from the bed, padded barefoot behind him, and ran her hands gently down his arms. She kissed the top of his head before leaving the room, making her way to the kitchen.

“Mrs. Compton,” Julie greeted softly.

Brian’s mom turned from the stove, her face lighting up. “Oh, Julie,” she said, arms wide. “Call me Mom, sweetheart. After everything you two have been through, I think that’s the only word you need to use around here.”

Julie’s breath caught, her eyes welling unexpectedly. “Thanks ... Mom.” The word tasted new but right, and it filled a hollow place in her heart.

The two women hugged tightly, laughing and blinking back tears. It was a simple moment, but it wrapped Julie in warmth she hadn’t known she’d been missing.

They sat together, Julie perched on a kitchen chair while her new ‘mom’ moved around the stove. Julie hesitated, then asked quietly, “What’s it like? Being a wife?”

Mrs. Compton paused, turning with a small smile. “It’s the hardest yet most rewarding job in the world, honey.”

“Hard?” Julie echoed, curious.

“Oh yes. Men can be tough to live with sometimes,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “But really, there are only three rules you need to know.”

Julie sat up straighter, eager for wisdom.

“Number one—keep them fed.”

Julie grinned. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Number two—keep their balls empty.”

That made Julie burst into laughter. “Heard that one too.”

“And number three—let them think they’re in charge.”

Julie blinked. “Wait, what?”

Mrs. Compton chuckled softly, stirring the pot on the stove. “Men are simple, sweetheart. They’re brave and strong and hardworking—but when it comes to people, they can be ... let’s just say, not always the best equipped. You’ll need to be his soft place to land. His voice when he struggles to find the right words.”

Julie leaned forward, absorbing every word.

“Men don’t always like it when we outsmart them,” Mrs. Compton added with a wink. “But the truth is, most of us women are smarter. The trick is to guide him gently. Let him think the idea was his, and he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Julie shook her head, smiling in disbelief. “No way.”

Mrs. Compton laughed. “Way. They’re that simple.”

“Huh, I had no idea.”

“Very few unmarried women do, honey,” Mrs. Compton said with a gentle smile. She moved to sit beside her almost-daughter-in-law. “So tell me—what’s it like working at Club Velvet?”

“How did you know that?” Julie asked, surprised by the question.

“Julie, dear, I’ve been keeping tabs on you since before the WE came around. I’ve always cared about you—and about Brian. So tell me. All of it.”

Julie hesitated, then smiled softly. “Well ... it’s actually kind of exciting. The guys throw money at me when I dance. I seem to be popular—everyone wants a private dance, and I’m making good money. Honestly, it feels like a big, strange family. Everyone’s really kind.”

“Really? I never would’ve imagined. What’s a private dance, exactly? I don’t think I’ve heard that phrase before.”

Julie gave a small laugh. “Well ... the guys hire me to go to one of the booths, and I do a strip tease just for them. I sit on their lap, grind a little, take my clothes off. That’s where most of the money comes from.”

Mrs. Compton sat back, her mouth slightly agape, stunned that the young girl she’d known since grade school was now undressing for strangers.

“How much do you charge?” she asked carefully.

“For just the striptease, it’s sixty dollars for three songs. But if they want more, it’s three hundred for three songs and ... well ... sex. That’s the real money. A lot of guys choose that.”

Mrs. Compton’s hand shot out, resting on Julie’s arm. “Julie ... are you having sex with those men? In the club?”

Julie nodded, unbothered. “Sure. All the girls are doing it.”

The older woman’s hand flew to her mouth. She shot a glance down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “How many men, honey? How many have you—”

“I don’t know,” Julie interrupted, shrugging. “Hundreds, I suppose? I’ve never kept track.”

Mrs. Compton let out a breath like she’d been struck. She reached for Julie’s hand, her tone urgent but soft. “Honey ... you need to stop. Before Brian understands what you’re doing. It would ruin him to see you—” she swallowed hard—”to see you with other men. He’s had a thing for you since the day he figured out what girls were.”