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Hades rolls his eyes. “Because she’s the head concierge, dickwad. Not because I ever fucked her.”
“Touched a nerve, did I?”
He exhales loudly. “Look, I’d have been fine never setting foot in this place again, thank you very much. I’m here to doyoua favor. At the expense of every single one of my brownie points with Elsa, I might add.”
“I’ll tell her you were on your best behavior,” I reassure him smoothly.
“Iamon my best behavior,” his hisses.
Kara returns with Hades’ old mask from his membership days, and a gold and black wolf mask for me.
“And is this your first time with us, sir—”
“Only since Dante revoked his membership,” Hades says with a bland smile on his face.
“If you fuck this up,” I murmur, “then there will have been no noble family-related purpose for you being here. Which means you just stopped by for no other reason than to…well, stop by.” I smile. “That won’t play too well with Elsa, will it?”
“You’re such an asshole,” he grunts.
Kara clears her throat and smiles politely as a man in a black suit and all-black mask steps forward and opens a little wooden case. Inside are wristbands in various colors with markings that designate the various roles and “interests” of the members who enter: black lines for a Dom. Gold lines for a submissive. Red indicating an interest in sadomasochism. Green for…
Well, you get the idea.
Hades plucks out a white and gold one, signifying a casual observer only, and slips it on his wrist. Gotta be the first time he’s chosen one ofthose.
“Sir?” The man smiles at me when I stand there peering thoughtfully into the case. “Do you need a guide as to which band you’d like to—”
“Yes. Which one signifies a psychopath with a God complex and a primal chase kink?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Hades mutters, grabbing another white and gold band and shoving it on my wrist. “You want to get thrown out of here again before you even get in? Tone it down, fucker.”
Another slender woman in a slinky black dress and an elegant mask leads us through the doors and down into the bowels of sin. We step into dim, sultry lighting radiating from brass candelabras, casting shadows on the matte black walls accented with blood red and gold.
Our guide leads us deeper into the club, through another set of doors flanked by guards in all-black suits with simple matte black masks, something like a cross betweenEyes Wide ShutandSquid Game. Past these doors, the fun really starts.
It’s the moans that hit you first. The music too, of course. And the general erotic vibe of the whole place. But it’s the gasped, grunted, whined and whimpered cries of sheer pleasure that really grab you by the throat and yank you from the normal to the hedonistic.
Club Venom is essentially a members-only private club that caters to like-minded individuals, orseveralindividuals, in their search of carnal pleasure. The ground floor is a series of cocktail and wine bars, lounges, and side rooms where almost nothing is off limits, as long as you don’t mind an audience. Upstairs are the private suites and playrooms.
But it’s the exhibitionism on the ground floor that you always walk through first.
In the first room we come to, a blonde woman in a gold cocktail dress with the top undone kneels between the spread knees of a man in a black suit. Her pouty crimson lips bob sensually up and down his cock as another woman—brunette, for anyone keeping score—sits between his back and the sofa he’s sitting on, running her hands over the Bratva tattoos visible beneath his open shirt.
Beside them, another man with Bratva ink has the ankles of a brunette over his shoulders as he fucks her into the couch. And on the couch across from all of that, an Asian woman with bleach blonde hair writhes and moans as the two muscular men with Camorra ink relentlessly fuck her mouth and pussy.
Yeah. Welcome to Club Venom. And this is just the foyer.
Our guide leads us into the main lounge—a huge room with two bars and ample seating scattered around it. In the center are a number of beds and couches which are almostalwaysoccupied by couples, throuples, and more-uples engaged in some sort of orgy for whoever wants to watch.
Tonight is no exception.
Personally, it’s not my thing: neither the exhibitionism nor the group sex. But to each their own, I suppose. The woman who’s been wordlessly guiding us through the club turns to smile from beneath her matte black and gold mask.
“Mr. Sartorre will be out shortly and invites you to relax and enjoy yourselves while you wait.”
Hades nods. “Great, thanks.”
The woman’s smile becomes more coquettish as she slinks closer to him. “If there’s anythingIcan do to help with that relaxation—”
