Aaron was a lucky man.
Landon and Verity had bought the church and converted it into a veritable den of iniquity, and it had grown and turned into the most exclusive club in Los Angeles. On the weekend, the private lofts upstairs were packed with millionaires in five-hundred dollar suits drinking thousand dollar bottles of bourbon, half-naked men over their lap or against the wall. There were always varying stages of undress and debauchery, and one of the things I loved the most was the calculated unpredictability of Rapture.
I never knew what I’d get, but it would always be a good time.
So, I drove to Pasadena, and I parked in the dirt parking lot, staring up at the huge stained glass rose window over the wooden front doors of the club. The interior lights reflected through the massive stained glass panels and cast colorfulshadows into the parking lot and the alley. The beat of the music vibrated through the space, encouraging my heart to pick up the pace and my legs to get out of the car. It was close enough to eleven that I could go inside and get a glass of wine while I waited for Justin, Micah, and Keith to show up.
Back when it first opened, Rapture used to be a typical kind of nightclub where you could show your ID and get through the door. But as the years went on and their popularity grew, they shifted to a members-only model. Names matched to background checks, guest lists, the whole nine yards. It created a different sort of experience that spoke to the new kind of clientele, and I thought it only changed things for the better. It was nice to go into a space designed for pleasure knowing that there was no one in there who would try to blackmail someone or do anything underhanded. Even the guest passes were closely monitored to create a safe space for not just the employees, but also the members.
After the slender man at the front cross-checked my ID, I tucked it back into my wallet and headed into the club. Rapture was two floors, the first being the former sanctuary which Landon and Verity had turned into an enormous dance floor and sprawling bar. The upper was the old choir loft, which had been converted into a small public play space with private rooms down a short, dark hallway. There was a patio on the main floor, bathrooms, and not much else.
I hadn’t been to the club in a few weeks on account of how much time the bid was taking, but when I walked in, I found an entirely new first floor spread out around me. The dance floor and bar were much the same, but a wall had been put up that sectioned off a piece of the dance floor. It didn’t take more than a quick look to realize they’d built another private area, similar to the vibes of the quiet, upstairs loft.
The walls were painted a dark shade that looked black to me, and a stained glass window cut into one of the walls thatlet the reflections of the strobe lights over the dance floor shine through was the only real source of light in the space. Much like upstairs, there was a St. Andrew’s Cross tucked into a corner, a leather spanking bench, and an array of mismatched but comfortable-looking seating.
It was on a plush leather couch that I found Justin, reclined back with an ankle resting on his knee and a weary look on his face. He had a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand, and he smiled when he saw me.
“Of course this place is your first stop,” he said.
I sank down onto the couch beside him, leather creaking beneath my weight. There wasn’t a bar in the room, and there was only one other couple, standing in the far corner with their heads together while they shared a conversation.
“How long has this room been here?” I asked, looking around again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything on my first perusal.
“Two weeks maybe?”
“How long did it take to build?”
“Less than that.” He sipped his bourbon, visibly relaxing. “You haven’t come around in a while.”
“Work has been a lot.”
“It always is,” he agreed, glancing toward the door.
“Where are your better halves?” I asked.
“Keith ran off with Verity, and I sent Micah to fetch you a drink.”
“I just got here.”
“I knew you were coming,” he said with a smile. “And if Micah is going to be a brat to me, the least he can do is take care of you.”
I followed his stare toward the doorway, still vacant of either of his partners.
“What’s been going on?”
“Nothing, he’s just been argumentative this entire week. Atfirst I thought he just wanted some attention, but then I thought maybe the answer was no attention?—”
“Which made things worse,” I guessed.
Justin groaned, but he swallowed it down, adjusting his posture when Micah stepped through the doorway, three drinks balanced between his hands. He set down another bourbon for Justin, something for Keith, then he handed me a glass of red wine.
“Nothing for you?” I asked in lieu of a greeting.
With a frown, Micah reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bottle of water.
“We love a hydrated husband,” I teased, beckoning him down for a hug, which he gave without protest. Micah grumbled in my ear, and Justin reached between us, hooking his finger around the thin leather of Micah’s collar and hauling him down onto his knees. Micah huffed, unscrewing the cap of his water and taking a guzzle.
Watching the two of them together was always adorable, but when Keith was in the mix, it was like a whole new layer to their dynamic. Keith was submissive to Justin all the time, but dominant to Micah some of the time, and much like an outing to Rapture, there was no way of telling what I’d get when I went out with the three of them.
