Page 6 of Room One Hundred and Twenty-Five: All Access

Slowly, the room seems to empty as couples and groups pair up and move through to where I anticipate the elevators to the various rooms are located. Melancholy grips me as I watch more and more people moving to the next phase of their evening. Evenings where, based on the information Christopher gave me, they’ll have way, way more fun than I’ve had in months. Years, maybe.

There’s no rhyme or reason to the match ups, either. Pairings of two, three, four and more people move together to the elevators. It’s clear Club Sin caters to every imaginable configuration of relationships and identities. Even though I’m alone, it feels as though a mantle of societal pressures dissolves from my shoulders while I relax into the feeling that here, in this space, there’s no judgment preventing me from existing in whatever way I feel most comfortable.

Inclusivity is a heady drug, even for someone like me, who hasn’t ever really felt othered. I imagine a place like this is a real haven for people who aren’t free to be themselves in other spaces. Whatever energy in the universe guided me here tonight, I feel as if I’ve found one of those places that will make me better for having discovered it. It’s an odd thought to have in the lobby of a sex club, but then, I’m always looking for silver linings.

After the day I’ve had, I need all the silver linings I can get, even if I don’t leave here debauched and orgasmed within an inch of my life. At least, I’ll go knowing my membership dues, paid with the portion of honeymoon funds I contributed to that debit account, are well spent.

Still, it’d be nice to be swept off my feet and into one of those kink-themed rooms. I look at the light-up board above the check-in desk near the entrance and see there’s still a wide selection of rooms available. Now, if only I had a prince to whisk me away into one of them.

I mean, shit, if I’m gonna fantasize, why not really do it up big and daydream I’m like one of the women I watched being escorted by more than one dashing prince? Two? Three?

Yeah, I close my eyes in a slow blink and imagine what it would be like to visit one of the rooms left on the board with two or three of my very own Prince Charmings. That would be more than a silver lining. That’d be an entire platinum cloud.

Six

Gable

Ira’s nearly vibrating with nervous excitement as we exit the elevator into the Club Sin lobby. Ridge steps off first, of course, and I watch him scan the nearly empty space. I know he’s clearing the room for safety, just as I am. I also know the advance team I sent up earlier is already in position, cleared by management accustomed to high-profile members.

“See anyone who interests you?” I ask Ira when he turns his wide-eyed gaze to me. He turns in a slow circle, and I watch his attention linger a bit longer on the people standing or sitting alone. There aren’t many singles here, but the ones present are mind-bogglingly attractive.

“It’s not a buffet, asswipe,” Ridge grumbles quietly.

“Shut up, spoilsport,” I chide. Ira says nothing, but his head moves side to side as he not so subtly scans the room.

A stunning woman with ice-blonde hair and a shiny leather catsuit walks with lithe grace to the bar and gestures demurely for a fresh glass of wine. A young man reclines in an armchair near the floor-to-ceiling windows. He’s got a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a book open in the other. Somehow, I get the impression he’s just here soaking in the atmosphere and not really looking for play partners.

Small groups of people, who already know who they’re here to spend time with, wander toward a second set of elevators farther inside the club. I don’t pay those folks much attention beyond assessing any possible threats. I don’t spot our guys, but I’m fairly certain they’ve elected to remain in the club’s security room.

There are a couple ladies gathered near the bar, chatting with each other, but I watch Ira’s attention pass over them. A wash of warm affection rolls over me. It’s more than mere attraction. I genuinely like the guy. He fits seamlessly with Ridge and me both. Light to Ridge’s brooding; contemplative to my cynicism. Analytical the way we both are, too. Where my brother and my methodical focus lends itself to human nature and behavior patterns, Ira’s is much more erudite.

Which, yeah, is a word he taught me a few weeks ago when he convinced Ridge and me to play some boardgames with him to break up the monotony.

“Her,” he breaths. I follow his gaze to a woman seated by herself at the bar.

A fancy gown gleams in cobalt blue swirls around her legs, concealing them from view. The fabric drapes low over her back. It dips just beyond the curve of her hips to display an expanse of skin so pale she nearly glows against the brightness of the dress. Her face is turned to watch the flow of people to the elevators, a raw hunger evident, even in profile.

She’s stunning, and his interest ignites my own. I cast a quick glance over to Ridge and see a guarded look on his face. For a moment, I wonder whether he’s even slightly intrigued by this plan I’ve concocted. Without a doubt, he’ll let me have it with both barrels the next time we’re alone. Which is fine. I deserve his anger for not discussing this with him, but desperate times and whatnot.

“This is foolish. You know that, right?” Ridge is nearly silent, and I know he’s being careful not to let Ira overhear him.

“Maybe. But I had to try something. His brain is too big, too busy, to tolerate this for much longer. And it’s too risky to let him work. Even if we firewall him away from the internet.”

“So getting him laid is the solution you came up with? Fuck, man. Seems even more risky.” He tries to hide the jealousy in his voice, but I hear it.

I can’t return what his injuries have stolen from him. I can’t force him to rejoin the land of the living when it comes to sex and relationships, either. Maybe, it puts too much pressure on Ira and tonight, but I can’t ignore the part of me that hopes Ridge’s care for Ira will push him to act.

And if it doesn’t? Then I can only hope the night smooths the ragged edges peeking through Ira’s psyche. The lighthearted geek with a passion for social justice and fighting corruption has slowly withdrawn and become morose.

“What do I do? What’s the protocol here?” Ira asks. I realize I’ve let myself become comfortable enough to relax when his question startles me. That’s a problem. Though the dossier I received on Club Sin made it clear this is a safe place, it’s my job to stay alert, especially when we’re outside the safe house.

“Depends on whether you want to approach her on your own or with us. As I told you downstairs, this place is designed for one-on-one play or group activities. What do you want to do?”

Ridge takes a step toward Ira, as though inescapably drawn to him, and I press closer, too. I’ve seen the lingering glances Ira gives me and my brother, but a little encouragement isn’t a bad idea.

As if she can feel our attention, the woman turns on her barstool to face us. There’s a tilt to her chin and a glassy sheen to her eyes that ensnare my curiosity, but the slow smile she throws our way steals my focus.

“Hi.” Her hello as we step close enough to speak is husky. She lifts her hand in an aborted wave before tucking it under her leg and blushing adorably.

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