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Chapter Seven
Mia
It’s nearlymidnight by the time I get there.
Limos are parked out front and valets are tending to the people coming and going. There’s a parking lot to the side but Chloe told me the VIP’s get the front entrance parking. Those are the wealthy billionaire types and tycoons who have money galore.
I walk into the club and follow a couple to the reception area.
The man is dressed in a suit, while the woman is in a kimono-type dressing gown. I already know that underneath she’s wearing lingerie but it must be barely there because I can see far too much outlining her body.
A woman, different from the last receptionist, hands them some really classy masquerade masks and the man places his hand on the woman’s ass as he leads her away.
I get to the receptionist next and I do what I was instructed to do on my last visit here.
“Hi, I’m Mia Chase. Can I speak to Nick please? I know it’s late but is he possibly here?”
The woman gives me a curious look. She’s not as friendly as the last receptionist. In fact the look she now gives me isn’t a good one.
The receptionist doesn’t say anything to me. She just reaches for the phone and in seconds she’s speaking to Nick.
“You can go up to his office.” She tells me when she hangs up. I don’t miss the little scowl on her face, but I don’t have time for shit.
I can be bitchy too, and I do because I don’t say thanks. I just walk away and follow the path I thought I wouldn’t walk again.
I get to the balcony overlooking the floor of the club and instantly my bravado fades. It’s replaced by shock. Instead of the fascination I had with the grand décor I’d compared to pictures of Venice and the comparison I’d made days ago to the grand halls I visited in Rome, I’m more taken with the people around me… and what they’re doing.
There’s the usual upbeat tempo club mix you’d find in a normal club and the main floor has people dancing around as normal.
What’s not normal is that everyone is wearing lingerie and masquerade masks. What’s even more not normal for me is that on the outskirts of the floor there are people having sex.
As in actual sex. Real sex.
Just like that, out in the open for all to see.
The sight makes me want to reach for my glasses just to be sure what I’m seeing is what I’m seeing but then I remember I’m already wearing them. I’d put them on back at the hospital when I had to fill out the forms for Dad’s stay and give my details. I’m near-sighted so I don’t always need glasses and I know right now is one of those times.
I don’t need glasses to confirm what I’m seeing. There are at least a hundred people in this hall and at least twenty five percent of them are having sex while the others dance around in masquerade masks and sexy lingerie.
It actually looks like some dark, erotic fantasy.
More than porn, for the way some of them touch each other. Not that I’m some porn expert. I’ve just seen enough to know what’s porn and what’s not. This is something in between, just like everything else about this place.
It feels like I’m here in body but not really in mind.
Even with my mountain of problems, it throws me. It absolutely throws me. I’m standing on the first floor and I can see everything that needs to be seen and I’m so stunned I can’t look away.
The setting is a masquerade party for sure. It’s that hands down, but like something pulled from someone’s wild imagination.
What’s happening below is one thing but then I see that I’m actually even closer to the action than I thought.
It was a woman’s loud moan that pulls my eyes away from the main floor.
She moans again loudly, as the music changes and I see that the little Arabian-style cubicles I passed the other day have people inside.
I’m supposed to go down the pathway.
Down that pathway there, but I have to pass six of those cubicles to get to the end.
