But I can’t do that if I don’t get out of this car.
“Okay, you can do this, Harper. You want to do this,” I say intently to my reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’re going to get out of this car, walk inside like you belong, and you’re not leaving until you get what you came for.” There's a woman looking back at me in the mirror, one I want to believe in but it still takes me a few more moments before I actually open the door and step out into the frigid January night. For a moment the inferno blazing under my skin tempers, allowing me a brief moment of reprieve. My dress is still too tight but I’m here and that’s what matters.
Surprisingly, Midnights isn’t in a popular part of the city; it’s tucked away in an industrial neighborhood and if you didn’t know to look for it, it’s all too easy to miss. At first glance, it’s weathered exposed brick with tall, wide windows in the front swathed in black fabric concealing everything that goes on inside. Not even music is making its way past the interior.
One thing catches my eye though, telling me this isn’t some random building and it’s a singular man standing outside the front door, dressed head to toe in black, blending in with the night. He clocks my slow approach toward the door from across the street and my fingers tighten on the mask clutched in my hands. It seemed silly to wear it walking up but the longer he stares, the more my self consciousness wraps around my stomach, trying to pull me back to my car.
No one else is walking up, so I use that to my advantage and scurry up to the door without anyone noticing my skyrocketing level of awkwardness.
“Hi,” I squeak out. Tilting back my head, looking up at an emotionless face.
“Name,” his gruff voice demands.
“Harper Hawthorne.” When he makes no move showing he recognizes me, or at the very least my name, I relax a little. He presses his hand to the headset and mutters something to whoever is in the other line.
For a moment, I wonder if I’m about to be turned away.
Maybe they re-watched my video, felt the desperation rolling off of me, and decided they didn’t need me dirtying up their, what I’m sure are, thousand count Egyptian cotton sheets.
Why else would it be taking so long?
I count a handful of heartbeats before he stops talking, and says to me, “You’ll need to turn your phone off, and then you can head straight up the stairs, first door on your right.”
He watches me like a hawk as I power down my phone and once he’s satisfied steps to the side and is already looking back out to the street. A small tremble runs through my knees as I glide by him, through the doors and into the building.
Every inch of what I can see drips luxury as I step into the foyer and my jaw slackens as I take in everything all at once. With only a few feet between me and the staircase, I have little time to get a full view before I ascend them.
Hopefully this will be a quick meeting, giving me a little bit of time to peek around. There’s also a very real chance no one will take interest in me and I stay in the main area the whole night. A shiver skates up my spine at the thought, my ego might not survive if that happens.
Jesus, even the railing feels expensive as I trail my fingertips along the mahogany grain, slowly making my way upstairs. Nothing about the experience is going to be ordinary, I knew that, but what I didn’t expect was the sheer attention to detail. The membership fee is definitely being put to use.
Thousands of crystals strung together create the dazzling chandelier hanging over the first floor. Rich golden frames hang along the wall as I take each step up. Whoever designed this space deserves some sort of award because even little old me feels expensive simply by being here.
A nondescript door stands in front of me when I reach the second floor. Through the wood floats a feminine voice telling me to come in after my first knock. As I walk into the office, a stunning woman rises from behind an opulent wooden desk. “Harper, I’m Maxine. Welcome toMidnights.” Her voice is sultry and smooth as silk as she gestures to the seat in front of her. This is who my mind conjures up when I think sex clubs. This woman is sex wrapped in a tight, latex dress. She’s elegant, strikingly beautiful, but most of all confident.
Maxine moves like every second of her time is valuable. Commanding attention, whether she’s sitting down in her chair or flipping her long, glossy black hair behind her shoulder. Tiny acts I wouldn’t even notice on someone else but with Maxine, I’m fixated. Immediately I decide, if I have the choice, despite the fact I’m already an adult, I want to be her when I grow up.
Her ruby red lips split into a sweet smile as she sits down, hands smoothing across the mahogany desk. “I have to say your video was my favorite out of all the applicants we saw.”
A blush burns across my cheeks. “You saw that?” I ask, shrinking into myself.
Maxine chuckles. “Oh, yes, Midnights is my baby, nothing happens here that I don’t know about and no one comes through those doors that I don’t personally vet. It’s what helps this place be so successful, a woman’s touch does wonders.”
My shoulders are practically in my ears. “Thank you?” I don’t mean for it to be a question, but it tumbles out that way.
Making that video was one of the most vulnerable things I have ever done, and obviously someone was going to see it but I hoped to submit it and never think about it again. Let alone be face-to-face with the person who watched it.
Maxine’s cat-like eyes snap to mine. “Please don’t be embarrassed, what you said is exactly why I do these types of events. I know Midnights has this sort of…” One of her hands waves in front of her face, her golden watch glinting in the low light as she searches for what she wants to say. “Misconception attached to it. People who happen to stumble upon us without doing any research go right to sex and cheapen what actually happens here.”
There's something satisfying about listening to someone speak about what they are passionate about, you can see the flames in Maxine’s eyes as she continues.
She pulls a stack of papers from a drawer to her side, thicker than the budget proposals I put together at work for the Cupid Ball, and sets them in front of me. Then pulls a pen from a cup and lays it on the stack before continuing. “They’re not wrong, obviously sex is happening here but they’re not right either. Midnights is a place toexplore who we are or who we want to be. I very much believe the best way to find ourselves is through our sexuality.”
Yup, I definitely want to be her. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been so certain about anything in my life.
“I also really enjoyed that you were in sweats. Most people dress up or wear revealing clothing in their videos. There’s nothing wrong with it of course, you were just refreshing to see. Reminded me of myself a little bit.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. Nothing is even remotely similar between us. Maxine is everything I want to be, and I’m well, I’m just me. Despite the years that might separate us, because honestly I can’t tell if she’s five or fifteen years older than me, I can't imagine that she’s ever felt the way I do right now.
