Her laugh gently ripples through the air as if she’s reading my mind. “Before all of this, I too was a young woman trying to find my place in the world. You’ll do great here, Harper, men and women will fall to your feet to teach you anything you want to know.”
I swallow the lump of insecurity in my throat and nod.
We go over the endless amount of paper she pushes in my direction—NDA’s, club agreements, a laundry list of rules, medical waivers—until finally she places a two page form in front of me.
“This is always my favorite part. Once you're done signing everything, this is the list you will go through to check off everything your heart desires. Things you want to try, positions you like, kinks you’re into or may want more information about and such. If you match with someone, you’ll receive a copy of each other's list to review, like an ice breaker of sorts. You don’t have to review it, you can just talk, but I’ve found with newcomers it tends to be a bit easier this way.”
My dress is back to being uncomfortably tight and with every passing second, all of this becomes more and more real.
She must notice, or maybe I’m overly obvious because her face softens. "Can I ask what you're looking for tonight?” Maxine asks after a moment of me simply staring at the mountain of paperwork in front of me.
What did I want from tonight?
Opening my mouth does nothing. Everything I want to say sticks like tar in my throat.
Leaning across the desk, Maxine pushes the paper out of my view. “There’s no wrong answer.”
No wrong answer. I almost want to laugh. What I want is so superficial even breathing a word about it makes my skin crawl, even though it shouldn’t. I don’t know why society tries to shove the notion that we shouldn’t want tofeel wanted, desired, or even sexual, but they did a damn good job of it in Cupid. No, we're much better off stuffing those feelings down and going about our lives like one of humans' basic needs doesn't even exist.
“I want to feel wanted,” I answer with bitter tasting honesty. “It seems shallow to say out loud but I want someone to look at me and desire me. Someone who craves my pleasure as much as they do their own. But I'm so inexperienced that I also want someone to show me what I like.” My next breath is heavy and sits uncomfortably in my lungs. “I’m always the person who is overlooked, in my family, in my job, with men. It doesn’t matter where I am, no one sees me, and it's because of the way I look. Almost as if I’m undeserving somehow. I’m proud of this body, I love this body, but I also want to feel desired in this body.”
My confession spills out of me, leaving behind a sour taste. The words are probably the most honest I’ve ever been and even with the taste coating my tongue, I can’t help but feel more at ease.
“Harper, the things you want do not make you shallow, they make you human. It is basic biology to want those things. As women, we are often taught that our sexuality is shameful, that it’s something we should hide or force out of ourselves, all the while men can stick their dick inhowever many people they want and no one bats an eye. It’s a cruel double standard that only exists to keep us reliant on them for our needs. But here at Midnights, you can be whoever you want, however you want, with as many people as you want, and no one here will make you feel as if it's wrong.” That fire I saw earlier flares in her jewel tone eyes.
I can only manage a nod because anything else seems too grievous, and I really don’t want to cry in front of her.
It’s almost hard to even look at her, instead I let my eyes roam her office. Dozens of books line her shelves, some with names that make me blush and some more clinical than I would have expected. Her desk is bare, with only the papers I need to sign and a computer. No photos or anything to give away who she is outside of these walls but there’s a chance there isn’t even a difference. Finally my eyes snag on a large painting on the far wall.
It's beautiful. A winged man in the center; ethereal, and glowing amongst a chaotic background of what looks like demons. An image that feels like a dream and yet almost familiar.
“Eros, the Greek god of love, lust, and desire, or Cupid if you keep up with Roman mythology,” Maxine says, interrupting my thoughts.
That’s probably why it looked vaguely familiar. “I’m from a town called Cupid actually, so I am very aware of who he is.”
For some reason my comment has Maxine tilting her head, a scheming sort of smile creeps across her lips. “Tonight, along with the masks, everyone will also have a code name, adding a bit more to the anonymity to the night.”
“Oh, okay.” Hopefully she doesn’t expect me to have one ready to use because I don’t even have a nickname.
“How do you feel about Psyche?”
I shrug. “Sure.” That also seems familiar but my brain is overloading with information as I quickly look over the list.
“Midnights is a place to explore, and I hope you get that tonight. So take a look at the list, no need to rush, you have the entire night ahead of you, and when you're ready, put on your mask and join us downstairs,” she says with an almost too chipper voice.
Words jump off the page as I scan the checklist. Some I knew, others I’m not even sure were real words. It’s almost overwhelming. “What’s Somnophilia?” I ask out loud, unable to contain my curiosity.
Maxine gets up from her desk as she answers. “A personal favorite of mine. I don’t mean to run but I have afew more people to see before the fun starts. When you are done, you can leave it on the desk and come downstairs.” She opens the door but before she leaves, she turns back to me, mischief glittering in her eyes. “I’m happy you’re here, Harper, tonight may very well be the beginning of a new life for you,” she says, and then disappears.
I think she might be right.
Someone is going totake one look at this list and change their mind the moment they realize how boring I am. But there’s no way half of these are real. I’ve gone through the paper three times and all I feel is plain. Only a handful are marked as a definitive yes, but are all so tame compared to everything else on thelist.
A slough of boxes are marked as tentative but only because I knew the basis of what they are. Worse case if I end up with a partner who may be into one of them, I can probably ask what it really entails. Everything else is way over my head and might as well have been in Latin, and I’m too scared to put ‘maybe’ next to a word I don’t know only to find out it’s something I’m definitely not into.
Like ‘water sports’.
Something tells me it has nothing to do with jet skis or even water. And since I was instructed to turn off my phone before I walked inside, I have no way to double check.
