Page 27 of Meet Me In The Dark
She smirks as if she didn’t expect me to agree, but is clearly pleased I did. “I’m Cam, by the way.”
“Celeste.”
“Nice to meet you, Celeste.”
Then she leads me through lounges draped in velvet, curtained alcoves, and hallways lined with closed doors. She points out private rooms, themed spaces for every preference imaginable, and even something about sensory deprivation.
It’s a lot.
“And this,” she says, stopping before a tall archway, “is the Elysium Rooms. There’s another entrance by the lounge, depending on what you choose.”
“Choose?” I straighten up and try to fight off the shiver racing down my spine.
“Curious?”
“What is it?”
“It’s a blindfolded experience. One person is led in. They don’t see the other. They don’t touch unless invited. It’s about trust and anticipation and giving up control.”
I gaze at the curtains, but I can’t see through them.
“And the other person?” I ask.
Cam’s eyes glitter. “They guide. They call it The Seeing and The Unseeing.”
My pulse kicks like a drumline in my chest.
She must recognize the intrigue on my face because when she turns to face me, her expression suddenly softens. “You don’t have to go in tonight, but if you do, go in knowing you’re allowed to stop and walk out at any time.”
I nod, unsure if I’m agreeing or just trying not to faint.
Reaching out, she tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. It’s both gentle and unexpected, and a tingle shoots down my spine. “You don’t strike me as someone who does things like this often.”
I laugh, too tightly. “I don’t.”
“Then let me give you the best advice I can.” Her voice lowers. “You don’t have to be the boldest person in the room. You just have to be the one who shows up for herself.”
I blink away something that feels suspiciously like emotion before she moves away, leaving only a wiggle of her fingers. “Enjoy your night, Celeste.”
∞∞∞
I’m just going to walk.
That’s what I tell myself.
One hallway, one foot in front of the other.
At some point, a server hands me another vodka cranberry. I don’t question it. Honestly, if anyone knows what I need right now, it’s probably the bartender at an exclusive sex club.
My hand touches the wall, steadying myself as I continue walking.
That’s when I hear a soft moan followed by a ripple of laughter, and then a hum of approval.
I round the corner and stop dead.
A crowd has gathered near a wide archway, pressed close but leaving enough space to be spectators, not participants. I pause at the edge and plaster myself against the wall.
My brain screams at me to turn around and run, but my feet are traitors that are cemented to the floor, and worse yet, inching closer.
