The minute we step inside, I think we have entered another century, and my eyes drink in the gorgeous environment around me, so dark and hunting.
The classical music rings through the air of this enormous play as various people wearing elegant dresses and suits in masks dance the waltz, moving in perfect sync and harmony, while the smell of alcohol and cigarettes wafts through the air.
Black, red, and gold decorate the place, and the colors seem brighter and more beautiful under the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the crystal swaying just a little under the AC, I assume, since a shiver runs down my spine as the cold air nips at my skin.
The huge bar is in the left corner, with six bartenders preparing drinks so efficiently that I’m getting whiplash just looking at them. They quickly put them on the bar stand, where servers in black suits grab them and smoothly navigate through the club to booths and tables spread all over the place in a neat circle. So the dance floor and the stage in front of it are the focal point.
I notice the leather furniture with washed-out colors, probably made from the finest wood. Round tables and booths have lamps and curtains, offering privacy should anyone need it.
“We have private soundproof VIP rooms upstairs.” Bellamy points at the glassed-off second floor. “We could offer them to you, or the booths. Whatever you prefer.”
“We’ll take the booth,” I say before Scarlett beats me to it, because I don’t want to go there. God knows what all these people do in them.
“It can get loud and rowdy during auctions, so if you change your mind, let me know.” She points at the ceiling.
I shriek, “Oh my God.”
Five cages hang from the ceiling, each with a person inside, all with white masks covering their faces. The women wear long dresses that remind me of the Victorian era, while the men wear suits but have their chests bare. Each cage has a number attached, and that’s when I notice servers going around the tables, putting various cards with numbers on them. Silky ropes keep the people chained to the cage, and they drink champagne, scanning the crowd, some even laughing.
Only one sits in the corner, casting her gaze down.
“What the hell is this?”
Bellamy scrunches her nose at me. So saying the word “hell” is crossing the line, but this is okay? “In an hour, once our doors close, we will have an auction here, and everyone is allowed to participate. The highest bidder will get to spend a whole night with the person they bought.”
Scarlett asks, “Why five cages?” That’s the only question she has?
“We have five founding members who personally pick every participant, and it’s always the highlight of our night.” A beat passes. “All of them signed documents and willingly agreed to participate in the auction. They will also receive the full amount once the transaction goes through.”
“How is bidding on people a legal thing?”
“They are bidding on spending the night with them. We never make sex part of the equation. That’s for two grown adults to decide, and besides…they aren’t allowed to meet each other outside of the club.” Annoyance flashes on Bellamy’s face as she starts moving through the dancing people, heading to the right corner that somehow gives the perfect view of the entire club. “Miss Wright, I assure you we run a legal business. You shouldn’t worry about safety either. No one forces anyone into anything here.”
“You can’t blame us for asking questions, though, right?” Maybe that’s my own trauma speaking. I can’t phantom willingly getting into a cage ever again.
Especially not afterheput me in one with the intention of raping me.
Just thinking about it causes anxiety to rock through me, and I gulp for breath, hating imagining being locked up again.
“No. I respect that. Still, sometimes answering all these questions is exhausting. Enjoy your night, ladies.” She points at the small button on the table. “Once you are ready to order, press that button. Tonight we are serving Italian food since the theme is Venetian masquerade.”
She leaves us right away, and we choose our seats, the soft leather dipping under us, and I graze my fingers over the shiny wood. “I expected something else.” I raise my gaze to Scarlett, who snatches the menu and flips it open. “People making out and having wild sex everywhere. This is pretty tame, though. I’d seen more action at a regular club than here.” She chuckles. “Bellamy did say it’ll get rowdy.”
“You enjoy watching people have sex?”
“I enjoy a lot of things about sex. However, watching people do it is not one of those things.”
I lean back as shame fills me once again whenever the subject of sex comes up. Speaking about it always bringsattention to the fact that I never had any, and how embarrassing is that? The minute people find out you are a virgin at thirty or older, they assume you’re either weird or have had some traumatic experiences.
And then two things happen.
They either try to reassure you it’s okay and that the right person will come along, or they tell you how bad it is and how we live only once and you’re missing out on all the fun.
How inexperienced women aren’t interesting enough for men because no one wants the hassle of teaching you everything.
None of these reactions lowers my anxiety about sex in general or my fears. So I tend to just switch the subject because it makes me even more ashamed to discuss it with someone younger than me who has the experience.
Still…tonight is the night of trying new things, right?
