Page 14 of The Killer Card

“Good evening, Gray,” the hostess greets me with a smile as I finish pulling on my jacket. Despite what I’m here for, this is a very classy place. “The shows are over for tonight, but the cigar bar is still open if you’d like a table.”

Shaking my head, I flash my membership card, flipping it over so she sees the backside. “I’m heading into The Cellar tonight.”

She nods, taking a box from beneath the podium. “Will you be participating in a pre-planned scene or are you looking to join?”

Plucking a green wristband from the well-organized box I give her a smirk. “Join.”

With a professional smile she nods again and leads the way to a door hidden behind a bookshelf in the atrium. “Have a pleasurable evening, sir.”

Oh, I plan on it. “Gracias, señorita.”

The Cellar, contradictory to its name, is not underground. It’s the nickname those of us who frequent the secret backrooms of The Pink Flamingo have given them over the years due to the acts allowed to take place. For behind the glittering dancers and the allure of expensive cigars, creatures of depravity such as myself meet safely to quench more… Carnal appetites.

Sitting at the bar, I make sure my sleeve is slightly rolled to reveal the green wristband and order a scotch neat. The lights are dim, but there are still several members who choose to wear a mask to keep their anonymity. I’ve never bothered since I’m neither a politician nor a celebrity, and because I find them pretty useless. It’s rather impossible not to recognize posture when someone is on television five nights a week.

A heavy hand comes down on my shoulder, but I don’t flinch, recognizing the cologne immediately. Otherwise, the prim English accent would have been a dead giveaway.

“Evening, Gray.” Adonis takes the empty seat next to me, signaling to the bartender than he’ll have what I’m having. He gestures to my wrist. “Joining tonight?”

“Aren’t I always?” I smirk, raising the glass to my lips. The drink burns just the way I wanted. I glance at his own wrist where a red band is slightly hidden by his sleeve. “Not joining?”

“Not tonight.” He shrugs, thanking the bartender. I’m not that surprised. There’s a particular waiter he’s been eyeing for weeks now. Sometimes he coaxes the young man over, sometimes he just comes to enjoy company like mine.

There’s a particular set of rules to The Cellar. Everyone who enters wears a wristband, plastic and reusable- because hello, environmentalism is hot- to indicate what they’re seeking for the evening.

Black = Do Not Touch, Hard Limit

Orange = Do Not Touch, Soft Limit

Red = Not Available, Taken

Yellow = Just Watching

Blue = Scene in Motion

Green = Looking to Join

Purple = Open to Dom

Pink = Open to Sub

White = First time

I am almost always green, sometimes dabbling in pink territory. Adonis is usually purple, but I guess he’s really serious about this crush, for lack of a better term.

“Any preferences?” Adonis asks. When I shrug, he pats my back and points to one of the lounge areas where a couple is already trying to swallow each other’s tongues while a third young man watches in… Desire? Envy? What’s the difference really? “Let me introduce you to my friends.”

“You have friends other than me?” I ask in mock offense, picking up my drink. I toss cash on the bar. The one will do.

Adonis rolls his eyes, his smile is all I need to know how he earned his nickname. “Come on, brat.”

With a hand on the back of my neck, he steers me toward the group. I go willingly, taking a sip of my drink as I glance around the darkened club—

A flash of gold silk catches my eye and I stumble, hard enough for Adonis to notice. He grips the back of my jacket to hold me up. “Woah, are you alright, mate?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.”

I blink, craning my neck to try and catch another glimpse. I see it again, a glint of gold slipping out through the entrance. A well-manicured hand pulls a young man by the collar into a softly lit room.