Page 2 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“And how’s business?” she asks as she takes out a compact and brushes the pad of her fingertip beneath her eye.

She’s referring to the other penthouse. The club on the 25thfloor.

“It was quiet this morning, but it’s picking up.”

“None of the deviants wanted to come out to play?”

I almost laugh. I’m not sure who she’s calling a deviant. For a woman who just handed me a list of five women she expects to entertain in some way this evening, it’s pretty rich. Although I shouldn’t assume. I have no idea what the hell goes on in her and Gibson’s home. But I do know a little about what happens at the club.

Leaving the desk, I walk her to the elevator, using my key card to open the door for her. She gives me a light pat on the arm before she steps inside. “Have a lovely evening, dear.”

“You as well,” I tell her.

Traffic in the lobby is picking up, and I get back to work, retrieving mail and packages, making small talk, and memorizing who all is coming and going. Being a doorman at Gramercy is busy—not only are there more than a hundred units in the building, but the club has its own clientele who aren’t residents. And the club never closes.

Gibson showed it to me once, years ago, so I’d get the idea. He wanted me to understand what I was signing up for since I originally worked deep nights. I let him give me a tour, remaining silent, keeping all my thoughts to myself.

It was shocking, though—the reality of a sex club. I’d never seen people fucking live and in public before. The real thing got me uncomfortably hard, embarrassingly fast. A woman being double penetrated lives rent free in my head to this day. Not that I’m judging.

Teddy arrives for his evening shift at four on the dot, and the first thing I show him is Marianne’s list of visitors. He and I share a questioning look, but don’t say a word.

“What was she wearing today?”

Admittedly, we all have some fantasy involving Marianne.Some of the doormen have bigger crushes than others, and I wouldn’t call my fascination with her a crush, but it’s not like I’ve never jerked off in the shower imagining what I could do with her tits. Not that I’m proud of this. “New dress,” I say. “Tight. Black. White trim. Four inch heels.”

“Damn.”

It’s not something we discuss at hand off, but there’s no doubt we all speculate about Gibson and Marianne—their sex life in particular. But you’d have to get me pretty drunk to convince me it’s not kinky.

Before I head down to my apartment, I step outside and grab some street cart Halal. It’s Friday night, so I expect someone will invite me somewhere. I’ve just polished off my food when an offer from one of my former roommates comes in. Drew Riley and his husband Olivier are on this side of the East River for the night and planning to go to a comedy club. I accept the offer because I haven’t seen Drew in a few weeks, and I’d love to know if he’s heard from Silas, who hasn’t returned my calls in a month.

I don’t even know where he’s working now—orifhe’s working. Last I heard, he and his adulterous lover were still shacking up.

I was hard on him when I learned he was moving in with a married Republican senator, but it’s possible I misjudged the situation. I regret that our friendship suffered from how critical I was of him. It’s not like I’ve never led with my heart—it’s just that I learned my lesson and don’t plan on making that mistake again.

2

GIBSON

Her hug is too quick. Too impersonal. Not enough.

“What time are you going upstairs? I have Avery coming at six.”

I turn to watch the retreating figure of my wife as she crosses the living area to her hallway. “Is that your way of saying you’d like me gone by then?”

“Stay as long as you like, love. Avery’s a friend.”

I arrive in her bedroom as she’s stepping out of her heels. “Unzip me?”

I run my hands up her arms before sweeping her hair over one shoulder and locating the top of her zipper. I brace myself for the surge of need about to overtake me, but I’ve already touched her as much as she’ll allow, causing her shoulders to tighten with tension. Guilt sets in immediately.

“Christian said you haven’t been out all day,” she says as I reveal her back and waist, the top of her ass.

“I slept in and worked from here,” I tell her.

Unzipped, she disappears into her closet and continues to talk while I have a seat on her bed. “Any closer to closing the Bowery deal?”

“It’s closed,” I inform her. “We’re in escrow as of today.”

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