Page 44 of Tarek

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” It can only go up from here.

Tarek moves a black curtain to the side and pushes the door open. My senses were not ready. The air feels hot and stuffy, I can feel the bass drums thumping in my chest.

The strobe lights, flickers between bodies that are dancing, in a what looks like an arena. There are cages perched on large columns with women dancing naked in them. A bar to the left of me had people sitting drinking, enjoying the rush of rock music, which was pouring out of the speakers.

I squint, finding bodies on the stage in all sorts of sexual acts, the strobe light making them look like they are thrashing about. My god! The scent of sweat, and expensive perfume permeates the air. Women and men undulate on the dancefloor, with a slow mist that drops over them. Making their wet bodies gleam with sweat.

“Yes!” someone loud screams pierce the air to my left. With a closer look, I see a woman sitting on the bar with a man feasting between her legs.

It was like a scene from the movie Blade.

A tall man, in a speedo, fairy wing and fish net stocking comes to stand next to me. He winks at me, a slow smile creeps on his face. “Welcome to Nowhere. You new here?” He shouts.

Tarek steps behind me, his presence is unmistakable, on cue the man looks above my head, nods and dances into the crowd. As if sensing my sensory overload, Tarek gently guides me out of the room, through two large old school saloon doors.

As we enter a quiet corridor, we stand in front of an ornated birdcage elevator.

“You good?” Tarek asks, as he bends slight to look at my face.

All I could do is nod. Now I consider myself to be a sexual woman, but there is a huge difference between an orgy on Porn Hub and seeing it live.

“Wow,” that was all I can say.

As the elevator door opens instinctively I step in. Tarek follows and closes the gate.

“Why can’t hear moaning or the sound of sex,” I ask puzzled. Soft jazz music surrounds me, a stark contrast to the lively party we just left.

“Rooms are soundproof. Unless a couple wants an audience, they can leave the door open.”

The elevator stops, Tarek drags the gate open. He, steps out, holding the gate back. We walk down the long corridor with dark red padded walls. The light comes from the erotic painting that hangs above them.

I stop in front of an erotic painting of a beautiful pale Chinese woman, with her dress thrown over her legs as her male counterpart is trying to enter her.

“This is interesting,”

Tarek stops to see what caught my attention. “It’s called Chungongtu. Its traditional erotic Chinese art. This was from the Qing dynasty.”

“Chungongtu. Is it an original?” I ask.

“Why the hell will I have a copy?” Tarek turns and continues to walk down the corridor.

He presses his hand against a panel of a door, again a green light flashes under his hand.

The door shuts and the corridor’s calm follows us into the office. Inside, several large monitors display scenes from around the club. I can’t help but wonder if the patrons realize they are being watched.

But I imagine some of them would get off on the idea.

A cute man, with dark brown skin and glasses stands to talk to Tarek. He looks like he could be a superhero. He appears out of place in this setting. His white shirt stretches over his chest, his thighs are pure muscle under his pants.

He pushes up his glasses as he talks to Tarek, pointing to the screen.

The room has a silent hush with a soft flow of cold air.

I can only see the heads of some people behind their desk. Meanwhile six people sit in front of a mountain of monitors. I dig my feet into the lush green carpet, trying to take it all in. Where certain parts of Nowhere exudes sex. This office is strictly business.

Nowhere is turning out to be surprisingly impressive. It’s like an onion that I’m peeling each layer revealing something new. Just like its owner.

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