Page 31 of Contention

The elevator rises.

Chapter 10

Kara feels her stomach drop as the elevator rises quickly. It’s quite the thing; who knew rising forty stories up could be so fast? Her gaze cuts over to Bianca, who appears to be exuding excitement, shifting on her feet. “I blame you for all this, just so you know.”

Bianca pulls out a compact mirror and checks her deep, plum-colored lipstick. “For all what?”

The elevator passes the thirtieth floor. Kara feels her heartbeat nearly in her throat now. “For whatever happens, naturally. Your fault.”

“I’ll gladly fall on the sword for you, love,” Bianca replies, snapping her compact mirror shut with a grin. “And hey, if it’s a kinky place like they say, you can punish me for it.”

“I’ll pass, but dually noted,” Kara drawls, watching the floor numbers tick by. “Besides. The fortieth floor is just a lounge, per what I understand. Only private, paying members can go to the forty-first floor, where the weird shit happens.”

“Ooooh, intriguing,” Bianca purrs as the elevator comes to a halt.

The doors open slowly, revealing a small elevator lobby, dimly lit by exotic lanterns on elegant side tables between each elevator. On the walls hang large portraits of what Kara assumes must be tasteful erotic photography. Naked women, contorted into odd positions, blindfolds, cherries, a woman with her head thrown back, painted lips open in an ‘O’.

Charming,Kara thinks sarcastically as she takes it all in.

As they exit their elevator, they go to the right, facing the lounge. Their eyes open wide in surprise. It isn’t what Kara had expected, not in the least.

The lighting is dim, atmospheric. The space isn’t crowded, not like a normal club, nor is there club music playing. The music is something dark, with undertones of sexuality. Raw and uncomfortable. VeryDepeche Mode.

There are countless sections of lounge furniture, ornate and extremely expensive looking, black with deep gold trims. The feet of the chairs and couches appear to be carved, dark wood, in the shape of lions. Or wolves. Kara can’t tell from the distance.

Women in tasteful (is that possible) lingerie roam the space, providing alcohol and shots of liquor to occupants. All are masked, only their lips and jawlines visible. The far wall is all window, looking out into the dark, high over the skyline of the city. Lights flicker in the distance, like small stars beneath this sinfully secret floor.

Beyond those windows appears to be a large outdoor seating area, firepits heating the night air in the sky.

Everyone is dressed like it’s a gothic gala for the rich and privileged. Floor length obsidian gowns, dark three-piece suits, flashy watches, expensive shoes. A few people are dressed in understated fashion, but despite that, their postures scream elegance. Along with their glittering diamonds and Rolex watches. Those are pretty big giveaways, too.

There’s a large table to the middle of it all, piled high with sparkling glasses of champagne, fruits, meats, cheeses, pastries. In the center of it, lying on her back, is a naked woman. Just lying there, as people idly grab food to put on their plates.What the…? Have a side of vagina with that smoked gouda?

Kara feels her face twist, nose wrinkling. What has she gotten herself into?

“Wow,” Bianca breathes out beside Kara, clearly thrilled by the dark decadence of it all.

A hostess rushes over to them as they come further into the area. She’s wearing a deep midnight dress, floor length, the neckline nonexistent, plunging down beyond her navel. She wears a mask as well, though more slate grey than obsidian. Perhaps denoting that she works here and isn’t a customer.

“Ladies,” she greets them with a low, seductive voice that absolutely has to be practiced. “Please don your masks. I realize you are here on trial, but thosearethe rules.”

As Bianca quickly pulls on her mask, fitting it into place, Kara continues staring past the host podium, into the giant, dark space filled with elegant people clutching their alcoholic drinks. Pure anonymity. A few heads are turned in the direction of Kara and Bianca now, so Kara looks down and fumbles with her mask a bit before pulling it on. “Any other house rules?”

The smooth hostess smiles, her black lipstick ominous as she does so. Her practiced voice is like silk. “Drinks are free. You may go anywhere on this floor. You are not allowed upstairs, as that is a right reserved for our members. You will not be able to accompany any members upstairs until you commit to a membership.”

Sounds nice and normal, though Kara knows the reasoning behind it. Bianca only has heard things, naturally. Playing dumb, Kara plasters a stupid grin on her mouth, asking innocently, “What’s upstairs?”

Those pitch-black lips freeze in a false smile. “Well, that’s where therealfun is, of course. Discretion is paramount here. Enjoy yourselves, ladies.”

Aha. The ‘real’ fun. Likely the actual reason the club is considered an underground, expensive sex lounge. Kara wonders if ‘The Room’ is in this building…or if it’s somewhere else entirely. She eyes the occupants of this floor, wondering how many are high paying premium members, members who know how to get ‘whatever’ they want.

Regardless of the morality.

With their masks in place, Bianca and Kara stroll further into the lounge, taking in the sights while looking for a drink. A few women are perched on the laps of men, whose hands are hidden underneath their dresses suspiciously.

In some cases, it’s very clear that the woman is being publicly pleasured in front of whoever is sitting beside them.

Kara tries to hide her mortification as one woman stifles a loud moan as they pass by.It’s a sex club, Kara, keep it together. What did you expect? PG-13 kissing? Nobody pays money for that. At least, not this much money.

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