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Groaning at her words, “Can you please not call him that?”
“I am literally never stopping, especially because it bothers you so much. Plus, Daddy Davis is hot, and if I wasn’t so into Daya and you know, he wasn’t my best friend’s dad, I’m telling you I would be calling him Daddy as I bounced on his di—” I slap my hand over her mouth before she can even finish because I don’t want to hear it, and I don’t want to picture it either.
I’m already fucking horny enough that I almost swiped right on someone I had no business swiping right on last night.
“Don’t even. I haven’t had sex in three months. My vibrator is not cutting it, and I don’t need to be picturing you and my dad.” I force an exasperated tone in my voice even though I feel jealousy in my veins. I tell myself it’s just because of my celibate streak and has nothing to do with me sucking his thumb during dinner a couple of days ago, or how I watched his forearms flexing as he yelled at me in the middle of Onyx, and all I could think about is if they flex that hard when he’s fucking someone.
We bicker back and forth for a while as we sit on the couch eating takeout and watching Love Island Season Two.
“So, I’m just going to put this out there. Next week, there’s another masquerade night at Club Opal. Do you want to go?” she asks me just out of the blue.
“Don’t you have to be a member?”
“Yes, but we can bring guests. I’m just throwing it on the table. If you want to go, I’ll let member services know. We should be able to get you in for a quick interview before the party, no problem. No pressure, but let me know if you decide you want to try it out.” We get quiet, absorbed back into the show and how dumb some of these people are.
After another two episodes go by and we’re about to call it a night, I tell her my decision.
“Sign me up, or whatever. Even if I only go this one time, at least I can put it in my bucket of lived experiences.”
She squeals, and Justina doesn’t fucking squeal. If anyone was going to squeal out of the two of us, it would be me, so I jump back at the sound.
“Yes! Fuck yes, baby. Finally, I get to break one of your cherries,” she yells, walking out of my front door.
Why the fuck is my best friend so damn extra?
* * *
I didn’t know what to expect, not really, when Justina was talking about this place, but I’ve been so curious. I was surprised as fuck to see Dad’s friend and my pseudo-aunt, for lack of a better word, Monica, when we came in for my guest pass interview.
It wasn’t really awkward considering we aren’t really family, and I’ve talked to Monica about everything a teenage girl could possibly fucking talk about when I was younger. I know she owns a burlesque tavern, Flesh and Fiddle, as I’ve frequented it plenty of times with Justina.
It wasn’t that much of a stretch to know that she was involved with this sex club. Opal. An interesting name for such an establishment, but I suppose the dual meaning of it lends itself to align with the things that go on in here.
Hope, purity, truth.
There’s definitely truth here, but purity? That’s a hard no.
I do know that opals are said to be amplifiers of passion and love, and while I don’t think romantic love is occurring here between strangers, it fits. There is no lack of passion in here, I think as I turn my head every angle it can possibly go as I soak it all up.
“You okay?” Justina asks me, and the serious look on her face means she’s genuinely concerned about me.
“Overwhelmed. Mostly, because there is a buffet of things I want to look at, and I can’t choose what to focus on. It’s like…” She nods, immediately knowing what I mean. The red-tinged lights cast a seductive glow around the room, and everything is black and silver. I would have expected gold for added effect, but for some reason the silver fits better than I imagine gold would have.
“Do you want to come with me, or do you want to do your own thing? Remember, we don’t have our phones, but if you need to get a hold of me, anyone you see in an opal dress shirt, just let them know and they will come find me,” she finishes when I wave her off at her first question.
“Get outta here. I love you, but I don’t want to watch you and Daya. I’m gonna go be nosy and see what kind of trouble I can get myself into.” Justina nods before holding up one finger on one hand and two on the other. “Twelve. Midnight. We’ll meet back up here if we haven’t already contacted each other.”
She slinks off and I see her stop at a table, dragging a body away from it. I’m squinting my eyes to look at who she’s talking to, but it is still hard to see. I assume it’s Daya. Moving further into the crowd, they disappear, and I turn and head to the bar and order a Manhattan.
Everyone is wearing masks which makes sense since it’s a masquerade party tonight. I finger my own mask that I actually made myself. I’m pretty proud of it. Black with a black lace filigree design makes up the bulk of it, and then black and cream rose pearls give it an opulent look.
I can feel eyes on me, and I’m not surprised. Wearing the shortest black dress I’ve ever worn in my life, and then adding a slit up one leg, has more gazes on me than I’ve ever felt. The caress of their looks causes me to shiver, but it fills me with desire.
Bringing my lowball glass to my mouth, I take a healthy sip, leaving a heavy red lip print on the glass. It’s too dark to see anything in here, truly. I have no idea of what’s really going on, so when the bartender drifts back over to me, I ask her, “If one wanted to watch, which direction would you point me?” I hold up the delicate white bracelet Monica gave me, indicating I’m a guest visitor.
The redheaded bartender tilts her head and I see the tops of her space buns have opals weaved through them before she smiles at me. “You see across the way… that doorway with the purple light around it? Head that way. You can find pleasure there.”
I thank her before downing the rest of my drink and sliding my glass back onto the bar top. Moving through the crowd is easier than I anticipated, as it seems to part for me until I reach the alcove I was directed to.
