Page 12 of The Masked King

“Each door in the corridor has a name. If the light above the door is green, you may enter. If it is red, the room is occupied. Choose a door and enter.”

“That’s it?”

“You will be free to experience your wildest fantasies, Mr. Sabatelli. But only if you abide by the rule: you must not touch.”

The flashlight goes out.

She vanishes into the darkness as a door opens in front of me just enough for me to see the soft red glow around the edge.

My feet sink into thick carpet, adding a bounce to my step as I enter the corridor and the foyer door closes behind me.

My wildest fantasies.

Who the fuck walks around with a list of fantasies in their head like some kind of erotic bucket list? Their reality must suck if they take that shit seriously. Either that, or they’re the kind of perverts who shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone unsupervised.

My expectations are practically zero by the time I reach the first room on my right. The gold sign on the door reads: VENUS.

I keep going.

On my left, I pass APHRODITE AND CIRCE. On my right, HEDONE and CALYPSO. I think I’m starting to get it. Each goddess must represent a certain type of fantasy, although I’ve no idea which. Mythology isn’t my strong point, and I’m starting to feel as if I’ve laid out a whole load of dollars and a pair of Ralph Lauren shoes to watch a goddess playing with herself.

Then I reach a door with the name NYX on the front.

I hesitate. Does Nyx have something to do with night? If I had my cell phone, I could ask Google, but without it, I’m trusting my instincts to see me right.

Green light above the door.

I don’t second-guess it.

Feeling vulnerable in my socks and with the leather mask secured around my head, I enter total darkness and the automatic lock buzzes behind me. It’s disorienting. I take a couple of steps across the same bouncy carpet as in the corridor, arms extended to feel my way around and touching nothing.

“Hello?” My voice sounds different, no doubt due to the mask muffling the sound.

“Sit.” The soft voice is somewhere behind me.

I spin around and almost lose my balance, my knee colliding with a solid chair. The darkness is deafening, dense, and I find the back of the seat and lower myself into it.

But not before I catch the faint scent of perfume.

I breathe in as deeply as I can with the restricting leather and hold onto the faintly musky aroma, trying to determine the wearer’s location in the room.

“Hello, Brian.”

She’s close, but the voice is distorted, I’m certain of it. The club is taking no chances with the clients discovering the goddesses’ identities.

“Nyx?” I tilt my head, listening for the sound of movement nearby and hearing nothing. “Are you a recording?”

“No, I’m real, Brian.”

Yeah, the name doesn’t sit right with me, but I’ll play along for now. “So, when does the show begin?”

“The show?”

I feel the whisper on the back of my neck and turn in my seat. My hand instinctively swipes the air surrounding me, remembering too late the no-touch rule.

“Nu-huh, Brian. No touching.”

She’s further away now. Is she teasing me or did I get too close?