Page 3 of The Games We Play

The waitlist line has at least a hundred people in it. It’s trailing the side of the building and wrapping all the way around to the back. If anyone exits through that side, there’s a possibility that someone might attempt to sneak their way in.

“Good, keep it that way. I don’t want anyone who doesn’t go through a full security and member check to enter this building.”

“Yes, sir,” Miller replies.

I watch as Rocco pats down a member before granting him access. He’ll be one of the few standby members that will be getting into Afterburn tonight. We will have to turn away a majority of these members, and I hope it doesn’t turn into a full blown riot.

We already have the protestors for that.

My eyes bounce over to the fence line the police officers put up on the sidewalk. It provides a barrier around the parking lot, blocking them out. For now, at least.

Fortunately, I know enough people who knew someone at the Seattle Police department, so we were able to get more than enough to help on that side of things.

“I’m going to make a round inside and check in with Ember,” I share with the team as I walk up to the front entrance. Rocco opens the heavy oak door with a curt nod, and closes it as swiftly as I walk through it.

The ambient change is immediate.

The chaotic sounds of the crowd diminish immediately, replaced by a more synchronized sound of chatter.

A large oval shaped welcome desk sits in front of a floor to ceiling waterfall backdrop, with the wordsX-Connect Liveembedded underneath it. The cascading water allows for a three dimensional look in front of the lettering, giving it depth and meaning.

The deep red lettering of AFTERBURN glows over the top, bringing the word, and foyer, to life.

X-Connect is the website that started this whole venture with a live club. Christian Ford, the CEO of Ford Enterprises, created the X-Connect app, a matchmaking platform but for specific needs. Sexual needs, to be exact.

When he hired Ember, she had an idea which ultimately led to the creation of Afterburn, a club where members can meet safely to explore kinks and sexual desires in a judgment free space.

It was a risk to do something like this.

But, here we are on opening night, packed to the brim, with people begging to get in.

I pass through and enter the main area of the club, which is now booming and lively. There are people at the bar and high tables, talking excitedly amongst each other, all wearing masquerade masks or veils—which I hate.

None of my security guys are wearing them. Ember didn’t like the idea. She wanted us to blend in with everyone to appear less intimidating, but that would defeat the purpose of why and what we are here for.

This is not a standard dance club, this is a lifestyle club. A high-end one, albeit, still a lifestyle club. And people can be…unpredictable.

Although, I do have a couple of guys in masks, playing the role of patrons, because I never take anything to chance.

Scanning the room as I pass through it, I catch sight of mybest friend, Hudson, talking with Ember’s assistant, Cruz. It’s natural they’ve become close since Ember is technically his wife.

I use the wordwifeloosely, since they got drunk married during our last trip to Vegas and ended up staying married for reasons that benefited them both. Regardless, there’s something way deeper there than either one of them is leading anyone to believe.

My instincts are never wrong. Ever.

Too many years in the Navy and being trained to read people and places is an occupational hazard, and an annoying personality trait according to the few friends I do have.

I spot Ember and wait for her to peek over my way. When she does, I nod my chin toward the back of the club, and she immediately excuses herself from the small crowd of people she is talking to.

As she walks up to me, her rose gold dress sparkles over the dim lighting. She looks elegant and sexy at the same time, and I’m certain Hudson is doing everything in his power to refrain from taking her home and ripping it off of her.

“Hey, Seamus, everything okay?” she asks with a bit of concern.

“Absolutely, everything is great. I just wanted to give you a quick update,” my reply is monotone and even. Though she has a quick sigh of relief, her head tilts at me with raised eyebrows.

“You know, you need to notify your face that everything is okay. This permanent scowl you wear does nothing to make anyone feel at ease.” She gives me a playful punch in the arm, but my face doesn’t change. I just look at her dumbfounded, that she would purposely ask me to do such a thing.

I don’t know if I know how tonotify my faceof any other emotion other than dead serious with a hefty side of death stare. I’ve had too many years of military service with multiple tours and a government job that prevented me from getting close toanyone. Using my facial features to be unapproachable is my favorite tool.

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