Chapter 5

Five

Hazel

E levators should ding when they open, right? I think they should, anyway. Otherwise, a girl can look real foolish when they open and she’s not ready and she just stands there staring into space with tears gushing over blotchy cheeks. That’s a thing that happens, yeah? No? Only to me? Yeah, okay. Sounds about right.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The gentle masculine voice cuts through my daze.

“Huh?” Eloquent, that’s me.

“You look lost. Are you alright? Do you need assistance?” The man clasps a soft hand around my elbow and leads me from the elevator carriage into a foyer so richly appointed I feel like a fraud simply existing within its space.

“Uh…” Here I go again, wowing the world with my incredible articulateness. You know what, though? Screw it. I think I’m allowed to be a mess right now. I just caught my fiancé on his knees in front of another woman the night before we’re meant to get married.

“I have no idea why I’m here,” I admit. “Or even where here is?”

“Dear one, I believe fate leads us to be where we belong when we are meant to be there. You’ve arrived at Club Sin. Have you heard of it?”

I shake my head, and he leads me further into the gleaming lobby.

“Then allow me to be the first to welcome you to our humble space.” The wink he gives me makes it clear he knows how wild it is to consider any of this place humble .

The man leads me to a small office labeled ‘new members’ and hands me a chilled bottle of water and a packet of tissues. He introduces himself as the club’s concierge and instructs me to call him Christopher.

Maybe, it’s because this entire evening has a surreal quality to it, or maybe, it’s because I have no fucks left to give, but when Christopher explains the purpose and rules of Club Sin, I’m all in.

Christopher explains the club has themed rooms designed for people to explore their fantasies and kinks. He tells me I’m not silly for contemplating spending the honeymoon fund Trevor and I have set aside to pay for a membership. Christopher is my new best friend.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Still, it feels as if there’s a bond here. I’ve always needed someone in my corner, urging me to go for it. Now, here’s Christopher in my hour of need, compelling me to do this wild and out-of-character thing for myself. And when I panic about joining as a single woman without a man at my side, it’s Christopher soothing my nerves and letting me know there are plenty of men beyond the club’s doors, just waiting to meet a beauty like me.

“I’m not beautiful,” I argue. He’s hearing none of it, though, and like the magical fairytale godfather he’s turning out to be, he produces a prepackaged amenities kit complete with hair styling tools and makeup to help me repair the damage caused by tonight’s drama.

“Tearstained and pink nosed, yes. Not beautiful? Darling, the unattached straight men on the other side of that door will devour you. I promise you that. Now, before I leave you to your ministrations, please finish up your limits list, so I can input it into the system. If there are any gentleman looking for a match tonight, I want to ensure they meet your qualifications.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a well-dressed cupid, Christopher?” I ask, a tremulous smile battling through any lingering sadness. It’s impossible to be gloomy in the face of his relentless positivity.

“All the time, sweetheart. All the time.” He grins and winks before leaving me in the office to finish my paperwork and fix my face.

It takes only a few minutes. Most of my touchup comes from the emergency stash in my purse. But I’m not too proud to admit I absolutely indulge in the luxurious moisturizer provided in the toiletry kit for my face.

When I reemerge into the lobby, it’s still every bit as opulent as I first took it to be. This time, I take a moment to look around at the people grouped in small clusters around the room. There are sectionals and tables with comfortable-looking upholstered chairs spaced throughout. A fully kitted-out bar sits along one wall, though it’s clear no one here is hitting the sauce.

Soft discussions and laughter drift around me, but I don’t feel excluded. I cross to the bar and take a seat, mindful of the wine I had earlier, but any inebriation left behind has long cleared my system.

“May I serve you?” a young woman in a tuxedo shirt and vest with a black skirt asks.

“I, uh, I’d like a gin and tonic. Please,” I tell her.

Quietly, she turns and makes my drink. Her movements are quick and efficient, and in moments, I have a rocks glass with my drink in it, on a coaster in front of me. So that’s killed a whipping two minutes of the evening. At a loss for what to do next, I turn on the seat and rest my back against the leather padded bar rail.

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.