Natalie returned to the club a few more times with friends, and each time, Chloe would sit by her side. Once, a companion teased, "Using the pretty lady as a shield? You're ruining her business."
Chloe, ever the diplomat, smoothly replied, "Being Miss Natalie's shield is an honor." Natalie glanced at her, then laughed.
She had given Chloe a business card once, which Chloe accepted but never used. Natalie, on the other hand, saved Chloe's number and called a few times—never for anything formal, just to send over perfumes, jewelry, handbags, or shopping vouchers, gifts she had received but had no use for. Chloe never refused, accepting each with a soft thank you and no further questions. Sometimes, Natalie wondered if she'd lost her mind. Charity? Surely, Chloe had no shortage of admirers sending her things.
Half a month later, when following up with the same client, he remarked how much he'd enjoyed the club last time. Natalie understood.
This time, the client requested Chloe himself, so Natalie didn't pick anyone else, opting instead to sip her drink and sing along. Chloe wore an emerald-green dress, the thin silk draping elegantly over her figure, the deep hue making her skin glow like snow. She stood tall and poised, like an elegant pine—her neck, collarbones, shoulders, chest, and back all luminous, as if carved from moonlight and jade. Natalie refused to turn around. She knew she wasn't the only one staring; she could practically feel the client's gaze, sticky as an octopus's tentacles, crawling over Chloe's body, lingering where it shouldn't, greedy and intrusive.
Maybe it was because Chloe had shielded her from too many drinks, but Natalie's already weak tolerance seemed even frailer tonight. The club's heating was stifling, and dizziness coiled thick in her skull. The client's laughter, Chloe's voice—they blurred in and out. Her throat was parched, but the alcohol only worsened the haze. When the client's hand settled on Chloe's shoulder, snakelike against the snow-pale skin, Natalie stood abruptly. "Excuse me," she murmured, forcing a smile. "I'll be right back."
The broken sound of running water couldn't drown out the raucous singing from the private room. The restroom was cooler, but no matter how many times Natalie washed her hands, the heat under her skin refused to fade. Something about tonight felt wrong.
Then Chloe stepped in. Natalie watched her in the mirror, silent. Without a word, Chloe turned off the tap, took Natalie's lipstick from her clutch, and began reapplying it for her.
Her hands were cool as they cradled Natalie's face, fingertips tracing her jawline, soothing the restless irritation simmering beneath her skin. The lipstick glided over her mouth, Chloe's lashes casting delicate shadows, her gaze inscrutable. When her thumb brushed Natalie's lower lip, Natalie stiffened—
Then Chloe kissed her.
Light at first, a fleeting press, then again, deliberate and teasing, like an apology too shy to voice aloud. Each kiss was tender, romantic, blooming against Natalie's lips like flowers unfurling. Chloe kissed her carefully, lips parting, breath mingling, noses brushing—the closest they could be without merging entirely. The noise from the private room faded into oblivion; all Natalie could hear was Chloe's unguarded gasps, the heat of her breath, once so unsettling, now enveloping her completely.
Chloe pressed flush against her, the thin silk doing nothing to hide the curves beneath. She guided Natalie's hand to her chest, her eyes glistening.
"Cold," she whispered.
Chloe didn't release Natalie until she'd regained control of her breathing, then picked up the lipstick to touch up her makeup. "There," Chloe said, tucking the lipstick back into the clutch and handing it to Natalie. "Aren't you going back out?"
Natalie blinked, momentarily dazed.
Chloe lowered her head with a shy smile. "I'm... not quite presentable right now."
Natalie followed her gaze downward—the emerald silk did nothing to conceal the two unmistakable points beneath. Heat rushed to her face, and she snatched her bag before hurrying out.
The client enjoyed himself, the business discussions went smoothly, and Chloe attended to every need with impeccable timing. The only discomfort came from the man's overly persistent hands, but otherwise, the latter half of the evening left Natalie satisfied. As they waited for her driver after seeing off the client, Chloe stood slightly behind her, holding her coat. When the secretary announced the car was ready, Chloe draped it over Natalie's shoulders. The exhaustion of the day weighed on her, and Natalie couldn't even muster the energy to properly put it on, walking out with her head down. At the door, she caught a glimpse of Chloe bowing—a sight that left her with an indescribable feeling.
Something in her pocket pressed uncomfortably against her. She reached in and pulled out a box of hangover pills. When she turned to look, Chloe was already gone, the club's lights blazing like midday in the dead of night. She handed them to her secretary. "Stock up on this brand."
Friends had noticed Natalie seemed livelier lately. Before, she'd refused nine out of ten invitations to these clubs. When teased about having too many suitors to need "entertainment," she never argued. It wasn't that she lacked admirers—she just couldn't be bothered with the performative dance of transactional flirtation. But Chloe was different. Her sense of boundaries was flawless, her timing always precise—whether in reading the room, maintaining decorum, or teasing just enough. Most of all, Chloe gave Natalie a sense of sincerity, the kind that made her feel she could truly let her guard down. Natalie didn't know if that sincerity was part of Chloe's professional skillset, but even if it was, she was willing to pay for it. It was worth every penny.
Now, whenever she went out with friends, everyone assumed she'd choose Chloe. Sometimes, if she arrived late, she'd find Chloe already waiting inside. Chloe would stand to greet her, and friends would tease her for being tardy, demanding she drink as penalty—only for Natalie to push Chloe forward instead. "You're at it again," they'd laugh. "Why don't you just keep her on retainer to drink for you?" Before Natalie could respond, Chloe would say, "If Miss Natalie says yes, then yes," sending the group into fits of laughter.
Late that night, Chloe got a call from the front desk: *Miss Natalie is here, in Room 111.
She knocked and entered to find Natalie alone, draped in a long fishtail gown, her eyes closed as she leaned against the sofa. A single spotlight flickered in the dim room, casting shifting glows over her—now catching the curve of her shoulder, now gilding strands of her hair—until she looked like a porcelain doll forgotten in the corner. Chloe sat beside her, the air thick with the scent of alcohol.
Natalie was drunk.
Chloe moved to the other side, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Natalie's ear before gently massaging her temples.
"Chloe," Natalie murmured, eyes still shut.
"Hmm?"
Chloe bent closer, but Natalie didn't continue. "Have too much, haven't you?"
A soft chuckle escaped Chloe.
The sound made Natalie's head spin even more. It reminded her of bubbles bursting underwater, like the Little Mermaid dissolving into foam. Chloe was so close—her warmth, her scent—it was as if Natalie needed to breathe her in to survive. She tilted her face upward, seeking Chloe. When she opened her eyes, the light behind Chloe turned her features indistinct, her hair glowing like a halo. Chloe shifted, lifting Natalie slightly to cradle her from behind. Nestled fully into Chloe's embrace, Natalie crooked a finger. Chloe leaned in.
"Chlo," Natalie whispered.
"Hmm?" Chloe responded, her breath warm against Natalie's cheek.
Natalie wet her lips, nestling deeper into the curve of Chloe's shoulder. "You're too gentle like this," she murmured, the words brushing Chloe's ear like a secret.
Chloe drew back just enough to meet her gaze, eyes wide with feigned innocence. "What did I do?"
With a slow, deliberate motion, Natalie looped her arms around Chloe's neck, bringing their mouths so close that her next exhale ghosted over Chloe's lips—sweet with liquor and something headier.
"Chlo, "she whispered, the word a velvet plea, "take me away from here."
————————————
Sunlight pierced Natalie's eyelids, coaxing her awake to the sight of a glass of water—still faintly steaming—on the bedside table. As she pushed herself up, a dull ache radiated through her muscles, instantly soothed by steady hands that materialized to support her lower back.
Chloe stood fully dressed, her hair pinned up in a sleek knot, face scrubbed clean of last night's smudged eyeliner. The morning light rendered her almost translucent—no trace remained of the woman who'd whispered filth into Natalie's ear mere hours ago.
"Your outfit is pressed and hanging in the closet," Chloe said, nodding toward the wardrobe. "The water's lukewarm—good for your throat." Her voice was crisp, professional.
Natalie sat motionless, watching dust motes dance in the sunlight pooling on the duvet. After two measured breaths, she reached for her wallet, counted out a stack of bills, and held them out without meeting Chloe's eyes.
No false modesty. Chloe accepted the money with a smile, give Natalie a small kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, boss."
By the time Natalie looked up—suddenly desperate to memorize this unadorned version of Chloe, stripped of all seduction—the door had already clicked shut.
Alone in the wreckage of silk sheets, Natalie pressed her palms to her burning face before collapsing back onto the mattress with a groan.
Thirty years of impeccable judgment, undone in one decadent night.
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Chloe's day had started off just like any other.
She was watering the geraniums on her balcony when the autumn breeze kicked up, its chill creeping under her sweater. It was then, as she draped her coat over the sofa, that the text arrived—an unsaved number, but one she recognized immediately.
"Are you free?"
Sent twenty minutes ago.
Alone in her apartment, Chloe's lips curled into that practiced warmth as she typed back, "Miss me already?"
The reply came in an instant: "Yes."
Chloe paused, her thumb hovering over the screen. So, the last time hadn't scared her off. She remembered the image, sharp and clear—Natalie's starry eyes clouded with desire.
"What?" she typed, settling onto the armrest.
—————————
The café patio had grown cold. Natalie fought the urge to rub her bare arms as another gust sliced through her thin dress. Across the table, her date—some venture capitalist who'd been hanging around her social circle for months—leaned forward, his concern more for show than for any real worry.
"Cold? We can move inside,"he suggested, the words falling like an afterthought.
"The breeze is nice," Natalie lied, smiling through clenched teeth.
She needed the cold. She needed something to cleanse the heat still simmering in her veins whenever her thoughts strayed to—
A woman. God help her.
Her phone buzzed. Chloe's message flashed on her screen: "What?"
Before her brain could catch up, Natalie's fingers were already moving. By the time her date asked why she was smiling, it was too late.
"Miss you. "
"My schedule's free."
Holy shit. She—Natalie, vice president of New York Landmark Holdings—was sexting a sex worker.
"Friends are meeting up at KTV tonight," she heard herself saying to the man, her voice smooth, practiced. "Care to join?"
He actually winked. "Will I finally hear the 'Diva' sing?"
It took everything she had not to shove his face away. "You're all too kind," she said instead, her tone cool.
As he went to settle the bill, Natalie fired off a quick text to her secretary: "Book my usual suite at Emerald Pavilion. Discreetly."
The reply was almost instant: "Understood."
A wave of relief—and something darker—unfurled in her chest.
————————
Chloe entered the private room just as Natalie was a mid-song.
Backlit by the screen's glow, Natalie seemed carved from jade—untouchable, even in this den of excess. Her voice wrapped around the lyrics like smoke, raw and aching.
Chloe lingered in the doorway for a full three minutes, mesmerized. Then, slipping into hostess mode, she topped off Natalie's juice and poured herself a whiskey, exchanging polite nods with the other guests.
The song ended to raucous applause. When Natalie turned, their eyes locked—Chloe's gaze carrying all the heat of their last encounter, but with something new simmering beneath the surface.
Natalie drifted to the empty spot beside her. "Sing for us?" she asked, nudging Chloe's whiskey aside.
Chloe shook her head, lips pressed in mock distress.
"What a precious voice," Natalie teased. "You won't share it?"
Leaning in close enough that her breath whispered over Natalie's ear, Chloe murmured, "I only sing for an audience of one."
Natalie's laugh was a low, throaty sound. "Trying to kill me?"
Chloe's eyes brimmed with barely contained mirth as she nuzzled Natalie's shoulder. "I do want to, but I can't bear to."
How absurd humans were—knowing full well these were empty words, yet still willing to play along. Natalie arched a brow and took a sip of juice. "Just casual friends here. No need to drink so much."
Chloe picked up Natalie's half-finished glass, her lips grazing the faint lipstick stain. "Worried about me?"
Natalie stared at the overlapping red marks on the rim, chuckled, and nodded.
Under the table, Chloe's hand found hers, warmth blooming like mist between their palms. "Thank you," she whispered against Natalie's ear.
Natalie opened her mouth to respond, but the words died as Chloe's fingertips trailed sparks along her bare thigh.
Unable to resist, Natalie glanced over—Chloe sat with head slightly bowed, toying with their interlaced fingers. Through the already-low neckline, Natalie glimpsed the faint mark below Chloe's collarbone, pale as faded lipstick. With each subtle movement of their hands, an insistent itch seemed to take root in Natalie's chest.
She felt suddenly parched.
Noticing Natalie's gaze, Chloe adjusted her neckline unnecessarily. "What are you looking at?" she chided, voice laced with amusement.
Natalie averted her eyes. "Hasn't faded yet?" The words barely escaped her lips.
A pause. "Almost gone," Chloe murmured. "Just this spot remains."
Natalie nearly asked if it had hurt—then caught herself, startled by the direction of her thoughts. What came out instead was: "Does it... interfere with your work?"
Their loosely joined hands suddenly clenched tight. Natalie stiffened—then just as abruptly, Chloe released her.
With a sidelong glance that blended coquetry with something unreadable, Chloe arched a perfect brow. "Terribly. How does Miss Natalie plan to compensate me?"
That lilting tone sent Natalie's heart soaring like a kite caught in a sudden updraft.
Words failed her.
When Chloe reclaimed her hand, their arms pressed flush together. Natalie studied the meticulous makeup—those lush lashes veiling beautiful eyes. "It doesn't affect anything. Really."
Natalie squeezed back. Chloe's painted lips curved like winter plum blossoms against snow—the only color in a monochrome world.