It all seems pretty straightforward, focusing solely on client safety. If you have to wonder if an item is allowed, then more than likely it isn’t, so I don’t bring anything that isn’t essential.
I watch with rapt attention to see if anything is amiss during the intake process, but it runs flawlessly, and I smile. I was given a membership after I helped establish a security protocol for this place and ensured the members’ privacy and, above all, the patron’s safety. I can’t say I always use this privilege, but I am grateful for times like these where I can let loose. The membership fee is expensive, but Eduardo wouldn’t let me pay, so I likely wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’m not ultra-rich like they are, even though my business does well for someone my age.
The idea of working for someone in a cubicle would have driven me mad, so when I approached Eduardo with my business venture before graduation, he was only too happy to invest in my start-up. Unfortunately, having him as a business associate means I know of his dealings—some legal and some not so legal—although I only participate in the legal ones he maintains on his own.
I’m no fool. I know where the money comes from; I just choose not to involve myself in that side of things, and I’m not sure Eduardo would let me even if I was given the opportunity.
Pulled away from my thoughts, I see a woman with a long trench coat, and I can only imagine what is underneath that. I take her in from head to toe as her long black hair swings back and forth like a thick mane in a ponytail worn high on her head. I gaze downward as she walks in front of me. Her black leather boots disappear underneath it, and I can imagine the point of her heel pressing into my chest as she stands above me. We walk in one after another and I watch her walk straight to the bar.
My mask is firmly in place, as is everyone else’s, since it is a requirement for entry into the club. I follow her swaying hips as she perches on a seat and begins to talk to another woman beside her.
It would be more tempting if her hair were blonde, but it’s dark here anyway. I’ve never really been attracted to women with dark hair. I have nothing against brunettes, but I have a thing for blonde hair. I go to the bar and order a drink.
I look around at all the scantily clad women. Ironically, women don’t have to wear much and are not required to have memberships here. If they are vetted online, they can come, providing proper documentation showing proof of identity, a formal orientation to the club along with non-disclosure agreements that must be signed, and, most importantly, providing test results of no STIs. All of that is done online before their first visit.
The mutual requirement is that everyone must wear a mask. Some people like their identity to remain anonymous. I don’t have a problem with that. Sometimes, it’s better not to form attachments. I frown, pondering my words filtering through my head.
I turn sideways to get through a few people talking in clusters and hail the bartender over, ordering an old-fashioned. One thing I love about this place is that they make a mean old-fashioned.
I move my hand, and it lands accidentally on a woman’s shoulder. I feel a jolt, as if I have been burned as her face whips around to see who dared touch her. That’s when her jade-green eyes land on mine, and I’m suddenly bewitched.
I attempt to look away, but her hypnotizing almond-shaped eyes are captivating, and I want to yield to her every whim. As she narrows them on me, I zone in on the yellowish coloring around the pupil, causing the remainder of her green eyes toappear brighter. The tempestuous emerald green is so striking that I could drown in it for days.
I look at her, speechless, trying to form a coherent thought, and I see her lip twitch in amusement.
Way to play it cool, Jameson, I think to myself.
“Hi.” That is all I can come up with.
She coolly picks up her amber-colored liquid on the rocks and sips it, eyeing me up and down. I wonder if she likes what she sees. I wait for her to say anything in return, perhaps tell me a ‘hi’ back, but she doesn’t. She just stares, and I suddenly feel like my mouth is as dry as a desert, and I know without a doubt that I am thoroughly fucked.
“Do you come here often?” I inwardly groan at the thought of what I just asked.
Her eyebrows lift in shock as a smile plays on her lips.
Okay, that’s strike two. “What’s your name?” I groan aloud this time and run my hand through my hair, wishing I could recover from my mortification.
She puts her drink down and turns toward me this time to address me fully.
She seems to size me up and crosses one muscular leg over the other. I bite my lip inwardly, begging my expressions not to betray my immense attraction to her. Her black leather corset and mini skirt squeak as she moves.
“I thought the purpose of this club was anonymity. Is it not? You know, the masks and all.” Her hand makes a movement, mimicking a circle around her face.
She doesn’t seem irritated by my line of potentially offensive questions, but I can sense she is as leary of me as she should be. She doesn’t know who I am, and I think I might have blown my chances at getting to know her, even if it is for just tonight. I ponder on how to answer the question, and I know that she willbe able to sense bullshit a mile away, so I decide to go for the truth.
“Yes.” I nod in agreement. “I want to know what I should call you.”
She leans a little farther into my personal space. Her scent permeates the air; I smell a mixture of spicy vanilla and bourbon. I close my eyes, trying to remain unaffected while waiting for her response.
She seems to think about it and looks me in the eye, leaning over as if she is going to tell me a secret. “You can call me Eve.”
I repeat the name softly, and the one syllable rolls off my tongue easily.
“Eve.” I chuckle at her response, shaking my head. “I take it that’s not your real name?”
Her eyebrows scrunch together, confusion marring her delicate features. “Why are you so insistent on knowing me?” she asks.
“I just…” I sigh, knowing I must try telling her the truth, even if everything in my mind tells me to be cautious. “Do.”
