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Maybe my parents won’t get their loan forgiven. Maybe this man won’t want to marry me. Maybe, just maybe, I’m saving myself from a lifetime of misery. And maybe this will be the path to a freedom that I didn’t realize I needed.
Stepping up to the door, I tilt my head back as I look up at the man guarding the door. “You single or a couple?” he asks.
He doesn’t even look down at me. He’s focused straight ahead, and I glance from side to side, being dramatic as I make it clear that I’m here alone.
“Single,” I reply after a moment.
He grunts, making a flowing motion with his hand. “Straight ahead and to the woman behind the counter. She’ll help you.”
Dipping my chin in a single nod, I move through the door and head straight toward the counter, where there is a woman standing behind the counter, just as he said she would be. She’s typing on the computer as I approach but stops and shifts her attention to me, smiling a little too widely as she does.
“Are you here for an evening of pleasure or just to watch?”
I didn’t know you could just watch. I wonder if that costs less? I don’t ask because I’m not here to watch. I’m here for pleasure… but not really pleasure. I already know it’s going to hurt like hell. I know this isn’t something fun for me. This is a necessary evil.
Ripping a Band-Aid off.
“Pleasure?” I say, but it comes out sounding like a question.
She tilts her head to the side, her gaze searching mine. “Are you sure you want to be here?” she asks. “Maybe you should observe first before you join in.”
“I need to be here and not just to watch.”
I try to sound confident, but I’m not sure it comes off that way. It doesn’t matter. I’m going in there, and I’m going to lose my virginity tonight. This man is not going to take that from me. He doesn’t deserve it. I need to control something, and it’s going to be this.
She dips her chin, maybe in understanding, likely in some kind of pity, but I don’t care. She gives me a price, takes my information, and when I hand her the money, I’m given a colored wristband. This is real. It’s really happening. My entire body trembles with complete and total anxiety. I don’t know if I can go through with this after all.
“This wristband color means that you are open to being approached for sex. You have ultimate consent of whether you wish to participate with a member or not. There are private rooms for an extra fee. There are also public viewing rooms. It is completely up to you and your partner where you’d like to engage in your activities.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She gives me a smile, but her job is done. She’s taken my money, given me the wristband and the speech. Thanking her, I turn toward the door with the neonENTERsign above it. Reaching for the handle, I slowly turn the knob and take a step into the room.
It’s dark. There are some purple-colored globes that give somewhat enough light so that you don’t fall flat on your face. But I probably couldn’t make out someone’s features unless I was right in front of them.
There are shadows walking around, but I don’t know if they’re men or women. Instead of standing in the doorway, I decide to find the bar and order myself some water. My head is tipped slightly as I watch the floor to make sure I don’t trip on anything.
Approaching the bar, I reach out and touch the top before I lift my eyes. It’s cool, made of stainless steel. That surprises me. My brows snap together at the sight as my fingers slide across the cool, smooth surface.
“Weird, right? But it’s easier to sanitize than wood,” a deep voice murmurs.
Lifting my head, I look up at the bartender. He’s smiling as he watches me. He’s younger, probably around my age, with a goatee and thin wire-framed glasses.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks.
“Water,” I whisper.
He doesn’t make a move to get the water right away. His gaze searches mine for a moment, then he grins. “Are you sure you don’t want something stronger for your first time?”
“How did you know?” I ask.
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the bar, his eyes continuing to hold mine, and smiles as he speaks. “You look like you’re going to throw up,” he states. “And I’ve never seen you here before. I pretty much know everyone who comes. They’re all pretty regular.”
Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, then decide to get a drink. I’m not really someone who drinks much.
Usually, just a glass of wine with dinner, but I don’t like to go to clubs often, and hard liquor isn’t something I would normally order for myself. But considering nothing about this is my norm, I decide to just go with it.
“I’ll have a shot of something,” I say. “I don’t care what.”
