If that doesn’t scream Ivory…
She remembers that the higher-ups used to call itThe Falls, a long time ago. But when she returned to New York, it had becomeThe Edge.
It’s fine. All that matters is that Club Edge leads me to The Ivory.
I used my fake ID to get in, not because I think they would care about my age, I just can’t have anyone knowing who I really am, and they record the information of everyone who sets foot inside the club. As far as they’re concerned, my name isLucas Hansen—a pretty white name, which was done on purpose. I don’t want anyone connecting me to Colombia, or anywhere south of The States, for that matter. I can’t afford to raise even a single flag of suspicion.
I only get one shot at this. If someone tips him off, then it was all for nothing. And Iwill notallow him to slither away this time.
Club Edge isn’t quite what I was expecting, though I’m not surewhatI was expecting. I haven’t been to many clubs, and I’ve been to exactlyzerosex clubs. I’m pretty inexperienced with this type ofestablishment.
To expect people walking around in leather and pup masks, sex happening in every direction the moment you walk through the door, was a foolish assumption for sure.
There’s none of that. It’s very unimposing.
Sleek, exotic elegance from floor to ceiling. Black and shades of blue decor. Dark, but not so dark that you can’t see, indigo lights bathing the bodies. Not naked, but some are certainly scantily clad. The dancers, servers and bartenders all wear limited clothing and are in peak physical form. Top-tier beauty, mostly male, though there are a few female-presenting individuals sprinkled in, all exposed skin shimmering to match the aesthetic of hushed hedonism.
It’s a place for lust and fantasy to be explored. Discreetly, of course.
Some people wear masks, either as a kink, or to conceal their identities. It was clear from my first visit thatprivacyandconfidentialityare top priorities. They don’t allow cell phones or devices whatsoever—forregularpatrons, in the main club area.
According to the NDA I had to sign,VIP Membershave access to the private rooms and suites, as well as other benefits, like recording sessions, requesting specifictalent, i.e. the employees—theunofficialsex workers. There are a few levels of annual memberships, ranging from ten to fifty thousand dollars a year.
Yea…And fee strictly covers access. There are additional costs for pretty much everything else. Basically, you’re paying for discretion.
But hey, at least you get free drinks!
I can feel it, in every square inch of the facility, in the elaborate documentation highlighting thebusinessof sex, from the drinks to the music to the bodies…
El Diablo. He made this.
It leaves me wondering, as I wander inside for my third night of hopeful attendance, what this place was likebeforehe took it over.
Again, if there were shady dealings going on here, I doubt they’d be broadcasting it. But still, all I’ve seen so far are wealthy men enjoying the exclusivity, privacy, and mastery of a place that celebrates secret sex.
Following the same route I’ve taken the last two nights, I float over to the bar off the dance floor, taking a seat and ordering a drink. Their signature cocktail—Edge Elixir—is an elderflower vodka concoction with blue and green liqueurs that give it a cool teal color, matching the lighting and ambience perfectly. I actually really like it, but I’d never admit that because I’m not here toenjoythe drinks andhavea good time.
It’s work. This my job, coming here, sitting quietly, observing. Waiting.
Watching and waiting, waiting and watching.
Hoping…
The bartender, this pretty boy with dimples and wavy hair slicked back who clearly remembers me, delivers my drink with a flirty smirk. I return it, committing to the act; playing the part. But on the inside, I’m anxious. Restless, and eager.
I’msoclose to him I can feel it, weighing on my carefully crafted patience. I want to make moves, get into those private areas and fuckingfindhim. But I don’t have ten thousand dollars to spend on opening a damn door.
I sit with my knee bouncing for thirty minutes, people trickling in the later it gets. Killing two more Elixirs warms me inside, but it doesn’t calm the edginess in my limbs. If anything, I’m fevered and in need ofaction.
It’s his proximity that’s doing it, I’m sure. This is the closest I’ve been and I’mbuzzingwith need.
The need forrevenge, that is.Nothing more.
Yo quiero mi venganza.
Ordering a fourth drink probably isn’t smart, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I need to move this along…
“Here you go, gorgeous,” the bartender croons as he delivers my drink.
