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CLEO
The place doesn’t look like a sex club. Then again, I guess that’s the point.
Purgatory is the kind of place that looms a lot larger in legend than it does in reality. They don’t advertise. There’s no big sign out front. And considering they’re supposedly very exclusive, I’m sure that most of the stories I’ve heard while tending bar are either second or third-hand and have been blown way out of proportion. A friend of a friend told somebody something, and an urban legend was born.
In other words, I’m not impressed as I stand in front of a three-story building that blends in with those on either side of it. There are no windows, no way to look inside, and I guess that’s the point. You don’t want your customers reminded of the real world outside your walls. They’re supposed to be escaping into a fantasy.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about it ever since deciding to take the leap and sink, probably as low as I’ll ever go, like a demented game of limbo. Tonight, I’m offering myself up here like a prize cow. But I need the money, and I need it badly. In the face of eviction and starvation, a single night with a willing partner who happens to be able to pay doesn’t seem likesucha big deal.
Actually, according to the club’s owner, I’ll have two partners tonight. Double the fun, as he put it, and double the money, as I see it.
It’s my empty, growling stomach that gets me moving. I cross the sidewalk and ring the bell, and when I look around, I see not so hidden cameras in the upper corners of the doorway.
Are they even going to let me in? Theyshould…Lucian Black soundedveryinterested once I described myself over the phone, but of course he wants to get a look at me in person before we finalize things. Is he watching me now? I feel like he is. A man in his position, who insists on personally vetting each new girl, likes complete control.
My heart leaps when the lock clicks, and once the door is partly open, I’m greeted by a mountain of a man dressed all in black.
“I’m here to see the owner,” I tell him in a voice that sounds a lot more confident than I currently feel.
His eyes rake over me before returning to my face.
“Why?” he almost barks, and it’s all I can do not to scurry away like a scared rabbit.
“Excuse me?”
“For what?”
“Oh. I called yesterday, and he told me to come in and see him personally. It’s about a position here.”
He snorts, and my skin crawls. “A position. Right. And your name?”
“Cleo Williams.”
A soft jingling interrupts us—when the guard dips a hand into his pocket, I realize it’s his phone ringing. He wastes no time answering, and the person on the other end wastes no time either in getting their point across.
“Follow me.”
The guy opens the door wider for me to step inside. I guess whoever’s watching the security feed saw me and approved for me to come in. There isn’t much time for me to do more than glance around the entry. I only take in brief glimpses of my dark, tasteful surroundings. Everything about this interior screams money and prestige.
“This way.”
He leads me past the reception desk and through a doorway I wouldn’t have known existed, since it sits flush with the dark wallpapered wall. A narrow staircase leads up to a hallway lined with closed doors on both sides. I have a pretty good idea what takes place behind those doors. It all seems quiet right now, but it’s early in the evening…
Besides, I guess everything is soundproofed. Otherwise, it would get pretty noisy and might ruin somebody’s time. I doubt the patrons of Purgatory want to hear a stranger acting out a fantasy while they try to live theirs.
The door at the end of the hall swings open before we’ve reached it, revealing a room that, again, screams money. Everything about it, from the dark colors to the sleek leather furniture, delivers a very definite message.
Filthy rich.
I spot a man sitting behind a massive desk. He’s so handsome it’s almost intimidating, andthat,combined with the powerful energy rolling off him, makes my heartbeat quicken.
He stands, extending a hand. “Lucian Black. Thank you for your punctuality.”
“We made an appointment.”
“Indeed, we did.” He gestures toward the bar in one corner, lined with glass bottles. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“Please.” It must have come out sounding as shaky and eager as I feel, since he snorts ever so softly before heading over.
