“Here we are,” Jasper announces with a hand flourish as we stop at a metal door outside a ten-story brown building. Blackout shades cover the windows, and if there’s a club inside, I can’t hear it.
Jasper knocks, and a peep door slides open. He whispers a password, and the entrance creaks as we step inside. Red carpet leads us to a two-story foyer dimly lit with Victorian-looking sconces. Ornately framed portraits cover the interior walls, scenes of fancy people from long ago.
The man who opened the door sweeps hooded eyes over us. With auburn hair, he’s tall and well built and wears a black tux with tails. “Membership card, please,” he says in a haughty British accent.
Jasper pulls out his wallet and flashes a card at him, then nudges his head at me and Deacon. “I’ve brought two guests that the board approved last month.”
He bows. “Ah, yes. Welcome to Decadence, gentlemen, the premier club of New York. I see you have your masks—good. I’m Brogan, your guide during the orientation. We wish you incredible delights and pleasures in our playhouse. Tonight’s our fairy-tale theme. Let us begin. Follow me, please.”
Hold on ...
Delights and pleasures? Playhouse?
What the actual ...
Ah, shit ...
I raise an eyebrow at them. “A sex club. Seriously?”
“Oh yeah, baby!” Jasper says as he pumps his hips. “There’s gonna be a hot time in theoldtown tonight.”
I shake my head at him. “Dude, is this place even legit?”
“Totally. The mayor sponsored me,” he says as he tugs me along the hallway. “It’s got a steep membership fee, seventy-five thou a year, plus a vetting system. They run background checks, credit scores, you name it. We have the masks so no one knows who we are. There aren’t any Lollipops here, so let that thought go.”
“I managed to stop thinking about her, but thanks for reminding me.”
He smirks. “You could be a mechanic or an accountant or whatever. That’s the cool part. Pretending to be someone else.”
“I see.”
“I usually say I’m a personal trainer, you know, because of my great body. Anyway, tonight everything’s on me—drinks and the entrance fee. You’re welcome.” He does a bow like Brogan did at the door.
“How much was it for us to get in?” I ask.
“For special guests, five grand each, so ten.”
“Damn,” I say. Sure, we make millions a year, but that’s pricey for a birthday.
“Whatever. It’s my gift. I’ve been several times and ...” He kisses the tips of his fingers. “Amazing. And you’re worth it. Don’t cry about it or anything, you big baby.”
I grunt. “You’re the drama queen. I’m the bad motherfucker. Get it straight.”
He chuckles. “Which is why we get along. Yin and yang. Peas and carrots.”
“I’m dying to see what it’s like,” Deacon says as he rubs his hands together. “Don’t wuss out on us, Tuck.”
These two are obviously foaming at the mouth to bring me here, and Jasper spent a lot of money on this. I exhale. Why not? With a few more drinks, I might even forget the demons in my head.
I put on my fake smile and spread my hands. “Is there cake?”
“There’s a food area with a huge buffet—” Jasper says, then cuts off as a voluptuous woman in a see-through mermaid outfit appears in the hall. She sashays toward us, murmurs a husky “Hi,” and then disappears.
“Who needs cake when sexy Ariel is here?” Deacon breathes. “Did you see her tits?”
I did—great rack—but I’m craving cake. I eat healthy twenty-four seven, and I’ve been looking forward to cake. Wait a minute; I’m thinking about sweets instead of tits. Jesus. Iamold.
We step into Brogan’s office. After handing over our cell phones and signing numerous consent forms, we get a rundown about the different parts of the club—some are just for regular socializing, and others are “play” areas. He informs us that some floors have themed rooms for privacy—or not. Each room has a bed, condoms, lube, toys, and hand sanitizer.