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“App?” he asks.
My cheeks heat and I try to remain calm. “What do you mean?”
He looks annoyed and holds up a thick device about the size of a phone. “You new here? I need to scan the app.”
Fuck!
“Oh, crap, no I deleted it off my phone. I can’t have anyone seeing that. I just reinstall it once a month, and yes, I am new. I’m really sorry.” I bat my eyelashes at him and smile demurely.
“There’s a five-hundred-dollar cover charge,” he states.
I almost choke. “What?”
“Well, since you’re alone and knew the password, and because you’re fine as hell and we’re short on ladies tonight, I’ll put you down as Tom’s guest and waive the cover.” He juts his thumb at the creep who’s disappeared inside. “But, just this once. Have a good night.” He indicates the door and I head to it like I’m walking the plank.
Short on ladies? Is this some kind of exclusive nightclub? Again, I hear no booming, bass-bumping music coming through the doors.
I literally stop in my tracks at what I see as soon as I walk in. I swallow hard and am unable to hide the shock I’m sure is coloring my face.
There is music playing, it’s just quiet enough to hear throughout the space, just not loud enough to be noticed outside. Some kind of eighties rock ballad.
The smell in here is strong. Fruity mixed with musky sex and people.
The air is thick and it’s warm. I look up to see fans connected to the black ceiling-less roof spinning but they aren’t doing much.
Is this what Carter does? Some secret app that provides perverts with one night of sexual debauchery? Does he come here, too? I mean, he’s 35, I’m sure he’s tried it out.
The thought infuriates me. Makes me jealous. Are there private spaces here to have sex?
I shake my head. The sounds and temperature aren’t what I’m concerned with, though. It’s what I’m looking at that has my jaw on the floor.
To my right is a man with a ball-gag in his mouth kneeling on a plush red settee, a lady dressed like Catwoman, complete with whip, behind him, smacking the shit out of his very cherry backside. He’s naked, save for the ball-gag, and from the looks of it, he’s definitely enjoying her punishing blows—especially considering there’s another woman, wearing a lot of makeup and nothing else, with her hands tied behind her back, his entire cock down her throat. She has tears streaming down her face in black trails, but I believe this is due to the enormity of what she’s taking into her mouth, not because she’s upset. She’s also nude, the nipples on her large breasts clamped with tassels hanging from them as they bounce in time with his thrusts. The man is not restrained, but leaning down to touch her between her legs. She moans as she feverishly works his dick in and out of her mouth, her eyes rolling back and she widens her legs. There are at least thirty people in nice clothing holding cocktails standing around, watching them. One man has his hand down the shirt of his companion, kneading her breast while she watches the interaction with hooded eyes and parted lips.
I have to force my gaze away while I look left to see two women in a full 69 position, feasting on each other. They both look similar, with blonde hair and identical figures. One is on her knees while a man in a Mardi Gras mask holding a riding crop fucks her in the ass with a condom on. He occasionally smacks her backside with it and the girl under her struggles to keep her mouth clamped on her pussy due to his whippings and thrusts (and his balls smacking her in the chin). Occasionally, the man will reach down and knead the woman on the bottom’s breasts with his fingers or whip her as well. There is also a crowd of well-dressed people watching the interaction. The sounds of moans and low chatter can be heard sporadically.
Something inside me stirs. I’m suddenly incredibly turned on. I realize I’ve been rooted to the spot like a noob for too long, so I keep walking. The place is a big, open one, and there are multiple “stations,” oddly separated with what I can only describe as wooden farm fencing with beds, chairs, and other equipment inside it to display those getting it on.
The next station shows two men. One’s on his knees sucking the other one’s dick, while the one who’s receiving is eating out a woman who’s displayed to the side of him, upside down on some sort of erotic cross. Her arms are bound above her head while her legs are spread wide, tied to each side of the cross’s T in full splits, his mouth in between them, going to town while he gets his dick sucked. She shakes and cries out.
There are all kinds of freaky things going on. I continue to hold my head high as I walk, pretending like I’ve been here before. I spy a large bar on the other side of the floor and I realize I definitely need a drink to get through this night. On my way, there, though, I stop at a station where two people are on a bed, doing it missionary like normal people—I mean, save for the guy behind the man, fingering his asshole.
“Did you decide on a room, or do you just like to watch?”
I turn to see Tom standing next to me. The guy’s probably in his fifties and he’s pretty scrawny. A glance at his expensive suit and watch tells me he’s got money, but he’s very sleazy and gives me the ewws.
Then I register what he said. Room? I look up to see a dark hallway that looks like it leads to more debauchery.
“Oh, I just like to watch,” I lie quickly.
“That’s too bad. You sure you don’t want to have some fun in one of the rooms?”
I can only imagine what goes on in there.
“I’m good, Tom. I’m meeting someone here, so I’ll have to decline.” More lies.
“That’s too bad,” he says into my ear, fingering my hair. “You look like a lot of fun. I bet you—”
Suddenly, Tom’s gone, replaced by a very angry-looking Carter.
