Page 68 of Locked in Wonderland

Time didn’t seem to mean much anymore. There was only before Wonderland and after Wonderland. Was that how people ended up staying here forever?

A waiter carrying a silver tray dragged me from my thoughts. He stopped beside us and held it out. Instead of food or drink, the tray contained neat lines of white powder—which I assumed was cocaine or Wonderland’s equivalent—and an assortment of pills in different shapes and colors.

My new ‘friends’ each swallowed a couple of pills without hesitation.

I shook my head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

The waiter frowned and nudged the tray closer. “You must have something.”

I pushed it back again. “I said no.”

“You aren’t supposed to come in here and have nothing,” the woman explained. “It’s a place to have fun. People don’t spend time here sober.”

“Fun. Right.”

My gaze drifted to the nearest mattress, less than ten feet away. An extremely young-looking guy was on his hands and knees being fucked relentlessly by a much older, bearded guy.

I assumed he was of legal age.

I hoped he was of legal age.

At least he seemed to be enjoying himself if his moans were anything to go by. A crowd had gathered around them to enjoy the spectacle.

“Perhaps you’d like to join us on a mattress,” the man suggested. The woman brightened at the idea. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils noticeably enlarged, the drugs already taking effect.

It might have been rude, but there was no holding back my laughter.

Several responses sprang to mind, such as that I’d rather dip my testicles in acid. In the end, I went for something more polite. “A kind offer,” I said, sounding almost sincere. “But no, thanks.”

The woman looked as though I’d slapped her. “I’m gay,” I said, hoping to soften the rejection.

Rather than appearing offended, her lips curled into a smile. “I don’t mind watching.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I have a boyfriend, and he doesn’t enjoy sharing me.”

Yet, it wasn’t Warren’s face that sprang to mind when I said it. It was a certain dark-haired man. Warren and I hadn’t been together long enough for me to know whether he was possessive. Somehow, though, I already knew Nico was, despite having spent far less time with him.

Thankfully, the couple left me alone after that. A brief exploration confirmed two things. First, voyeurism would never be my thing. Second, Warren wasn’t here.

Red door, it was then. I just prayed he hadn’t left while I’d been wasting time here. When I turned to leave, a man stepped into my path. “The boss wants to see you in his office.”

“The boss?”

He jerked his head toward a door at the back of the room. “Follow me.”

A knot of unease settled in my stomach as he led me down a short hallway and into a small room. The furnishings comprised a single plastic chair and a water cooler.

He pointed to the chair. “Sit.”

Despite the order being rather too reminiscent of a command you might give to a dog, I sat. He left without another word.

Minutes ticked by.

At first, the room seemed perfectly comfortable. Then the temperature climbed. Sweat formed on my brow and my throat grew increasingly dry. I found myself staring at the water cooler with the same longing a man dying of thirst in the desert might reserve for an oasis.

After the tea incident, I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. Especially not in a drug den. Who knew what they might have laced it with?

I waited a while longer before standing and trying the door.