Mac is a hulking, ogre of a man with far too many teardrop tattoos not to raise alarm.
We exchange pleasantries for a bit in the foyer before he opens the black velvet curtain for me to enter. To my right are the stairs leading to the tenant’s rooms, and to my left are a series of doors. At the end of the hall stands Calum, searching for patrons who want to enter the dungeon. You can’t bring your own equipment, and the staff closely monitors any activity to ensure everyone’s safety.
Calum calls my name, tipping his head with respect, then continues searching the guests.
I walk through the first door on my left and enter what was once a living room. It’s now a bar, illuminated by red lights and filled with cocktail tables where sex workers flirt with the customers. The walls are covered with black soundproof paneling. The chandelier above adds a touch of old-world charm, and lit candles adorn the tables.
I saunter to the bar, where Angelique greets me with a big smile. Her glass eye glows red under the lighting, and her white hair is curled into ringlets like Shirley Temple’s. She’s well over 60, but she dresses like a little girl.
“Torren! My favorite Kay brother. But don’t tell Tobias Isaid that,” she whispers the latter half and gives me a wink.
She leans in, and I kiss her on the cheek. “Just a whisky, neat. How’s life, darlin’?”
Angelique shrugs and says, “Meh. Same shit, different day,” and slides the whisky in front of me.
“Thanks, love. Is Tobias here tonight?”
I don’t love being in the dungeon at the same time as Tobias. Our sexual proclivities tend to gravitate toward the aggressive, and we often get competitive when we’re revved up.
“He’s upstairs talking business with some hotshot from New York, so I doubt he’ll be down for a while.”
That’s good news. “Downstairs busy?”
Angelique moves closer, opening one side of my coat and pulling out my smokes. She snags one with her lips and looks at me, waiting for a light.
“You could have just taken the lighter, too,” I say with a chuckle. “It’s in the same pocket as the smokes.” My gun is tucked away in the other pocket.
“I like it when you light my cigarette, baby. Makes me feel like alady.” I do, and she takes a drag, smoke shooting out of her nose as she says, “Downstairs is lively for a weekday. I think you’ll find someone you like.”
I hope so.
“Any guys down there tonight? Maybe tall ones with brown hair?” If I can’t have him, then maybe I can have someone who looks like him.
“Oh, very particular tonight, are we? I’m not sure, my love. Most folks who come to the dungeon have one thing on their mind. They rarely see me first. They’re not as sweet as you are.”
“They’re missing out, sugar.” I take her hand and kiss it.
“What I wouldn’t give to be a tall man with brown hair right now.” She tosses the cigarettes she swiped and coos, “Have fun tonight, sweetie. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
I chug my whisky in one go and exit through the second door directly across from the Dungeon’s entrance.
“Torren, my man!” Calum fist-bumps me. “Do I need to search you, sir?”
My smirk is wicked as I reply, “Don’t call me ‘sir’ unless you wanna come downstairs with me.”
He chuckles as he plays with the edge of my jacket and says, “If I weren’t working the door tonight, I would.”
“Naughty boy. I’ve got nothing on me, but check anyway. Policies should be enacted consistently.”
Calum nods, then pats me down. “Have fun, Torren.”
The moment I hear my boots against the stone stairs, a rush washes over me. This place changes my brain chemistry, and I’m itching to get down there and let this all out.
The blinding overhead lighting of the check-in station creates a disorienting effect. My jacket lands on the ground first. I kick off my boots, then disrobe, unceremoniously tossing my clothing to the ground. Once fully nude, I put my boots back on and hand my clothing to the twins working clothes-check. It’s stored in a bag labeled with a number. They write the same number with a marker on my right arm for when I leave.
The crisp, cool air chills my skin as I walk to the center of the dungeon, which reminds me of a junction where each road takes you to a different destination. Do I go into the maze? The dark room? Perhaps someone is waiting at the Saint Andrew’s Cross.
The place is crowded. People mill about with hungry eyes,each one licking their chops when I arrive.
