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The old bank building loomed ahead like some ancient behemoth, its stone façade barely visible beneath layers of moss and ancient weathering. A thick iron door stood between us and whatever debauchery waited inside, guarded by an individual more mountain than man.
Ari’s excitement was unmistakable, a palpitation of thrills that seemed to run through us all as she approached the door with the confidence of a queen entering her court. The mountainous guard appraised us with an indifferent glance before his eyes rested on Ari. There was a momentary flicker of curiosity in his otherwise stoic demeanor.
“Invitations?” His voice rumbled like the earth’s shifting plates.
I stepped forward. “I’m Freakshow.” I pointed to Bones. “He’s Bones Vega and the winner of tonight’s fight.”
Without another word, the security guard stepped aside, pulling open the heavy door which groaned its welcome.
We descended a stone staircase, the walls dripping with humidity and secrets, until we reached another door. This one opened to reveal a sprawling space that defied the exterior’s old bank appearance. It was a cathedral of carnal delights. Dim red lights bathed the vast room, casting long shadows and providing just enough illumination to tease the senses.
The air was thick with perfumed incense and lust; it pressed against our skin like a tangible force. Faint cries of ecstasy melded with the bass from speakers embedded in dark corners. The club was divided into sections, each promising a unique flavor of vice—there were stages for dancers, private alcoves for voyeurs, open spaces where bodies were tangled in various states of undress.
Ari’s hand found mine again as she led us further into the den. People moved around us in a mix of leather, lace, and less—eyes hungry and roaming. One couple passed by us, lost in their own world; their bodies moved together in a slow dance that left little to the imagination.
Lotto stayed close to Ari’s other side, his usually unflappable cool betraying hints of protective tension. Bones followed behind us with an amused smirk playing on his lips as though every secret hidden within these walls were known to him.
The air pulsed with primal rhythms that beckoned bodies to move, to grind, to seek out touch in the darkness. A dancer caught Ari’s attention as she twirled on a suspended hoop, her limbs contorting gracefully while her gaze held a dare.
Ari tugged us over, unable to resist the unspoken challenge. Her own body began to move with the music, not as an imitation but as a conversation. Lotto watched her, his expression torn between pride and caution. I could see his fingers itching to grab her, pull her back or perhaps push her further into this world.
Bones leaned close enough for me to hear him over the crescendo of music and moans. “She’s like a flame in dry grass here,” he said, voice full of gruff amusement. “Gonna light up the whole damn place.”
I nodded silently, unable to disagree. Ari was fire incarnate tonight.
We reached an area where velvet ropes cordoned off private booths overlooking an open floor where people writhed together in ecstasy. The maître d’ eyed us with a mix of appraisal and indifference before Bones dropped a name that had him nodding respectfully and unhitching one of the ropes.
Our booth was an island above the sea of desire; we could see everything while remaining just outside the grasp of those below us. I watched Ari as she peered down, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths—whether from excitement or something more potent, I couldn’t tell.
Lotto’s hand found hers again, grounding her. He leaned in close to whisper something in her ear that elicited a mischievous smile.
The music shifted then—a deep bass note that vibrated through every body in the room. It was as if The Vault itself recognized Ari’s arrival among its patrons; it welcomed her with open arms and whispered promises of endless delights.
Ari tipped back her head, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she absorbed the bass like a baptism. And then, she was moving again, her legs taking her to the edge of our elevated sanctuary. She looked down upon the writhing mass of bodies with the eyes of a conqueror, mesmerized by the ebb and flow of the dance of flesh below.
Lotto, ever the vigilant one, guarded her back, scanning the crowd for potential threats—or perhaps any hint of jealous spectators who might resent Ari’s radiant presence. Bones merely stretched out his long legs, crossed at the ankle, and settled back into the plush seat with a contented sigh, as if he were watching his favorite show play out before him.
I remained silent beside him, my mind racing to keep up with the night’s unfolding events. The Vault was a place where inhibitions didn’t so much lower as they did disintegrate entirely—and Ari? She seemed intent on throwing hers into the furnace. The heat from her excitement was infectious, and I fought to keep my own composure.
