The Orientation: The Diary Obsession, #4

By S.M. Pratt

Two women. One man. Zero limits.

My name's Charlie, and I have a problem: I'm obsessed with two talented, smart, and sexy women. Armed with their diaries, I'll do everything I can to achieve my goal: become their man.

The Diary Obsession is an episodic novel that records my tales of obsession with Sophia and Virginia, presented in novella-length installments.

In Episode 4 (The Orientation), Sophia and Virginia begin to form a closer bond and finally open up to each other. Virginia introduces her daughter to Sophia, while Sophia gets Virginia a visitor pass to the maison close. Will my ladies keep their hands on each other or will they enjoy some of the perks that Sophia's unique work environment has to offer?

If you like your LGBTQ+ romance with a good serving of mystery, action, and sizzling heat, then you'll love this episodic novel about me and my obsession with two gorgeous women.

Get your copy today and take a peek between the sheets. (I won't tell if you won't.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Creative Communication Solutions Ltd.
• Release date: Feb 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781988639437

Book preview

PART ONE

SOPHIA'S TRANSLATED DIARY

4:30 P.M.

The entire flight back to Paris was spent in full bliss, mentally reliving my last day in Madrid, after what would have mostly qualified as a fiasco of a trip if it hadn’t been for Vee redeeming herself at the last second.

I’d been so close to walking away from her. So close to losing her. To losing us…

Knowing she loved me too, I was determined to find a way to merge our two lives together. With France and Spain being neighboring countries, and European discount airlines offering plenty of opportunities for cheap flights, distance wasn’t an issue. Timing, though, and the fact that my home doubled as my workplace was causing a major headache.

But there had to be a way.

I called Nicholas to request a meeting. If anything could be done, he’d make it happen. After all, I was the new owner of an illegitimate-somehow-made-legitimate business, so I didn’t want Virginia to get into legal troubles that could end her artistic career.

I’d seen first-hand how important keeping up professional appearances was to her.

Although I wasn’t supposed to reveal anything about the maison close with anyone, Vee had already peeked through my diary a few months ago when I’d stayed at her house in Spain. She could have already read bits and pieces about it if she skimmed through my Parisian adventures. But if I wanted to give our relationship the best chances of success, I had to reveal all of me to her, and that included my work environment.

I unpacked the picture frame I’d brought back from Spain and picked up the faded photo of my parents, the one I’d tucked away in the corner of one of my room’s oil paintings. I slid it into my new golden souvenir. While the frame was the only personal touch of decor in my official bedroom, I felt that one step at a time, I could eventually turn my Parisian room into a real home. My finger grazed the glass as I stared at my young parents in their summer outfits. My mother wore a conservative sundress and my father a polo shirt and shorts. Both beamed, holding hands and looking at each other as if the best was yet to come.

They looked happy. So young and in love. But their bliss hadn’t lasted long. Not with my dad’s kidnapping and the subsequent injuries that had erased his memories and ability to communicate.

I sure hoped my relationship with Vee would last longer than theirs.

2:06 P.M.

Maître Nicholas Lancelot opened a file on his oversized desk and smiled.

I reviewed your plans for the charity soirée. You did well.

Thank you. Gabriella left a lot of useful documents on her computer.

As he flipped through the pages, he added yellow Post-it notes in places. I’ll file the required permits and keep you posted. I don’t expect any problems. You will finalize the menu with Marc-Antoine?

Yes, I’ll take care of it this week.

He finished perusing the file, then closed it. Did you have other questions for me?

I would like to invite someone as my plus-one for the soirée.

A line creased Nicholas’s brow. Who?

Virginia Díaz Sánchez, my girlfriend.

That’s not allowed.

But I’d like her to accompany me. To see where I live and what I do for work.

Nicholas leaned back against his chair, allowing the natural light to bounce off his bald head. His piercing blue eyes were locked on me, building up intensity from the gap in the conversation.

Is it serious? he finally asked.

The most serious relationship I’ve had.

And what does she do for a living?

She’s an artist. A painter.

A groan escaped his lips. "There would be a risk of her revealing what really happens at the maison close to newspapers and magazines just to get some exposure."

No. More like the opposite. She stubbornly keeps her private life separate from her artistic persona, and she will do anything and everything to guarantee that her art is judged for its worth and not by some attention-seeking media trickery.

His eyes were locked onto mine. Although he kept quiet, the horizontal lines on his forehead made me think his mental wheels were spinning fast.

There are security risks, he said. Should anything be lost or stolen during her visit, how would we deal with that?

I’m sure she would let you run a credit check and police report on her. She’s wealthy. She doesn’t need to steal anything.

Nicholas shook his head.

And the security cameras—

Privacy issues, he said. If she were to recognize a client and divulge his identity, we would get shut down fast. There’s a reason we run it as an exclusive membership business. We can’t just allow anyone to barge in, uninvited.

Then she could sign a non-disclosure agreement. Should I ask her to apply to become a member?

What? That doesn’t make sense. Only men can be members.

I swallowed hard. I disagreed with that policy. Women, too, deserved to join, but that was a fight for another day. Then could we pretend she’s an employee? What security checks do you run on them?

Sophia, he started as he got up from his chair to pace his spacious office, "your aunt’s business isn’t the place to bring your girlfriend. As I mentioned before, I have friends who own flats around the maison close. I’d be more than happy to put you in contact with them."

It’s not the point. I love her. I want her to see what I do, where I live, what I’m exposed to day in and day out.

He stopped pacing and crossed his arms on his chest, his jaw clenched.

The awkwardly long silence prompted me to speak. I know you don’t like the idea of it. But it’s important to me. My aunt gave me the business to run—

Under my strict supervision for the first two years, as was clearly stated to you when we signed the paperwork.

It was my time to swallow hard. I know. But Virginia won’t be any trouble. And you don’t have to worry about her looks. She’s gorgeous and sexy as hell. She’ll blend in just fine.

His eyebrows lifted as he exhaled loudly. If the security checks I run on her come back clean, then I’ll reconsider it.

"She’d be allowed to come to the maison close on the night of the charity soirée and other occasions?"

Let’s get the initial boxes checked first.

Pushing my luck to ask about inviting my friend Alex was pointless. She’d have to wait.

Thank you, Nicholas, I said as I got up. I promise she won’t disappoint.

While I hadn’t gotten a real yes, I sensed Virginia would probably be allowed on the premises for the charity soirée. Fingers crossed.

2:40 P.M.

From the back of the town car, I gave Mr. Jean-Michel directions for my next stop, then wondered how Virginia would feel about a background check being run on her.

Digging into my purse, I took out my phone.

Should I warn her?

If the roles were reversed, I’d want to know, so I tapped the dial button.

The unanswered rings only served to make me oscillate between telling her and not. When she didn’t pick up, I hung up, not bothering to leave a message. I could try and reach her again later tonight.

I put away my phone and focused on the paperwork in front of me: copies of the document I’d just shared with Nicholas. The charity soirée was just a week away, and the tasks on my to-do list were far from checked off.

As my driver continued to navigate the stop-and-go traffic of Paris, I prioritized the remaining items and assigned a date and time to each one. It was all very doable, once broken down into tiny chunks.

We stopped at a few stores to place some custom orders: ice sculptures, new outfits for the employees, casino tables and equipment, and a few decorative items I wanted to see in person.

8:43 P.M.

Mr. Jean-Michel drove me back to the maison close as the sun set over the City of Lights. Clients would soon start to arrive for their regular evening of fun.

After donning my mask and greeting Mr. Richard, who was manning the front door as usual, I headed toward my bedroom, intent on tackling the rest of my daily tasks. But the more steps I took, the more I realized I didn’t feel like working anymore. The day had been taxing, both emotionally and mentally.

Just hours earlier I had planned to spend my evening updating the auction posters I needed to hang in the salon and preparing name tags that Richard could hand out to clients as they entered the premises. But I no longer felt motivated enough to tackle these tasks.

Tomorrow morning would work just fine. I just had to set my alarm a few hours earlier.

While I knew my way around computers, I wasn’t a designer. Thankfully, Gabriella had left her design files on her laptop. Updating existing files to change the words, images, and dates on older documents was perfectly doable with my skill set. As long as I finalized the documents before the end of the day tomorrow, they would be ready in plenty of time.

The minute I entered my bedroom, however, I was reminded of something Nicholas had said earlier today, and I was lured by a new task: determining if there could be a need for male employees. But first things first. I picked up the phone and ordered myself a sandwich and a bottle of Chardonnay. Five minutes later, they were delivered to my room.

I locked my bedroom door, opened the secret passage to my other bedroom, then took my light dinner with me to my secret lair.

After uncorking the bottle and pouring my first glass of the evening, I turned on my security monitors. All rooms were vacant, but they wouldn’t remain so for long.

While waiting, I decided to open my mom’s precious shoebox. With a full glass in hand, I was ready to face the many notes and mementos that my mom had collected about my dad. Today I felt strong enough to review one new