Page 67 of Play Dirty

“So what’s so special about it?” Augustine asks. “This could be any restaurant and bar.”

“It’s not,” I say.

“Then show us,” Alexander says. “Show us what you want, Jordan. What you need.”

“Why? So you can convince me I don’t need it?”

“So we can give it to you,” August offers.

But I don’t think I can. I really don’t think I can. “I don’t want to see this place empty. It’s… sad.”

“Then tell us about it,” Alexander says. “Tell what you liked. Tell us what you need, Jordan.”

I look around, my eyes darting to the stairs that lead up to the second floor elevators. “That,” I say, pointing to the landing with my glass. “That’s how you get upstairs to the upper floors. And that,” I say, pointing up to Smith’s balcony. “That’s the bar where Smith used to sit and watch.”

I glance at Alexander. He’s nodding his head.

“And over there,” I say, pointing to the White Room. “That was the public face of the Club. The White Room restaurant. Anyone could come here to eat in the White Room. But this place, the Black Room bar, it was strictly for members. Before I was a member I’d come to the White Room and watch them.”

God, it fucking hurts to picture it. Because it was exciting, and fun, and real.

“I was so close back then.”

“So close to what?” Augustine asks.

“Being invited in, of course.” I smile as I down the rest of my drink. Remembering back that night of Lucinda’s birthday was my very first private party. “And over there, behind the stairs, there’s elevators back there. They take you to the basement. That’s where all the fun stuff happened.”

“Take us down there,” Augustine says, picking up my hand to hold it. “Take us down there and show us what you need, Jordan.”

For a moment I wonder… do they have people down there? Is there a party happening and I just don’t know it yet? Is this some kind of surprise?

But no. There’s not.

“You own it,” I say. “You’ve been down there so you know exactly what it look like.”

“We don’t care what it looks like,” Alexander says. “We want to know what it feels like.”

I hesitate. Unsure if I can. Will it make everything worse? Or will it bring me relief?

“I dunno,” I say. “Maybe I should just go.”

But that thought barely makes it past my lips. Because Alexander’s mouth is on mine. Kissing me as Augustine moves in, pressing her body against mine. Her lips coming up to join us.

I close my eyes and pretend.

Pretend this is real, even though I know it isn’t.

Pretend that I will go downstairs with them and there will be people waiting. Women, naked. Some marked up with fluorescent paint, letting me know they’re into plurality. Letting me know I’m welcome to join in.

And Augustine would be painted up like that too, if this was real. She’d be naked, and Alexander and I would stay dressed in our black and white tuxes all fucking night. Our zippers down, cocks sticking out, as the night morphs from the mundane into a carnal delight.

“Come on,” Augustine says. “Show us what you need.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The elevators in the back of the grand lobby are how you enter the real Turning Point Club. These elevators only go down one level. There’s stairs somewhere. Fire regulations say there have to be stairs. And I’m pretty sure there’s a service elevator for staff and whatever.

But guests use these elevators.