Chapter 33 #2
The Blue Room is your typical tawdry strip club.
Half-naked people dancing on raised platforms to sultry music while people catcall from the floor and fling bills at their feet.
Us members only like to think we’re better than the usual peep show clientele because we belong to the upper echelons of society.
But in reality, the debauchery only becomes more lewd the higher one climbs.
Once again, we find a secluded spot in a corner where we have a perfect view of the busty brunette currently displaying her mostly nude acrobatic skills suspended in blue silks.
Behind her is a muscled blond guy who looks straight from a Chippendales show that draws Miles’ rapt attention as he defies gravity, climbing a pole upside down in nothing but a pair of tiny briefs.
A shirtless waiter in skintight leather pants stops by our lounge, and Miles orders a couple seltzer waters with lemon. He must be intent on having a good time tonight, or else he would keep drinking.
“Who’s it going to be tonight, Fritz?” Miles asks as I watch the ass on perfect display when the waiter walks away.
I scan the room. I pick out of few more of my favorite waiters and dancers weaving through the room.
The Blue Room is much more crowded than the main lounge.
Not surprising for a sex club. There are a number of places to go for a quiet drink in an exclusive setting in this city, but the draw of The Club is the other activities.
And apparently, the Fabio doppelganger is drawing the majority of the attention, from both women and men.
His long hair undulates like waves of golden wheat in the wind as he rolls his upper body seductively. He’s literally humping the air, and the crowd is losing their shit.
“Fritz?” Miles catches me still staring across the room.
“What?” I shake my head. “Oh, right. I don’t know, man. I told you, I don’t think I’m in a playing kind of mood tonight.”
I don’t always participate when we come to The Club. It’s not abnormal for me to sit on the sidelines, but Miles stares at me like he’s not buying it. I can’t pick out anyone who I’d want to satisfy me. I’m not even feeling particularly in need of satisfaction tonight.
“Fritz, come on, mate,” Miles groans.
“What?”
“Tonight is about getting her out of your system. Have some fun, enjoy some beautiful naked bodies, and get off a few times so you can start to move on.”
“I’m moving on,” I grumble.
My friend shakes his head and takes a long drink of his sparkling water, frowning at it as if he’s angry at the water for being just water. “Dude, you said this was just for fun, and now look at you. You’re a mess, and everyone is worried about you.”
“It was just for fun.” I rub a hand down my face. “It really was. Until it wasn’t. But it’s done now, okay? And I’ll work harder at doing better. Promise.”
“Then why can’t you have a good time tonight?”
“I am having a good time, I just.” I shrug. “I don’t know, no one is really jumping out at me tonight, is all.”
“Well, Adonis over there,” Miles gestures to the hunky pole guy who is now leaving the stage to much cheering. “Has been shooting eyes over here this whole fucking time, and if you won’t let that fine piece of man bend you over the nearest surface, then I will.”
“You are so not a bottom, Miles,” I snort.
“I’ll be whatever he asks me to be, man.”
With that, he finishes off his offensive nonalcoholic beverage and stands, straightening his trousers and popping open a button at the top of his shirt, giving a hint at wisps of curly black chest hair barely visible against his dark skin.
Saunter is the only word for the way Miles moves across the room.
There’s a slight sway to his hips that’s normally not there.
He holds his head high, making him appear even taller than usual.
The Chippendale lookalike is about to slip behind the curtain, but turns to look out over the room again.
I can barely see the Cheshire cat grin spreading across his chiseled face as he looks in the direction of my best friend.
He’s hard to miss in a crowd. I watch Miles talk with him, seeing the other man’s mouth move, but I’m no good at lip reading.
I can read body language, though, and that guy is giving off major fuck me vibes.
He’s standing with a hip cocked, curving his body in a rolling S of muscles that could have been carved by a master.
His sultry grin turns to a full-blown smile, and he throws his head back in a roar of laughter I can hear all the way over here.
He trails a hand down my friend’s arm until he finds his hand.
I raise my glass to Miles as he shoots a glance at me over his shoulder before he’s pulled through the curtain to the backstage area.
I sit alone for a few minutes, enjoying the luxury of people watching I’m seldom afforded.
Two men are tucked in an opposite corner from me.
Their suits are finely tailored grey wool, just a few shades different from each other.
Neither wear ties but instead have the top button open on their collared shirts.
A much smaller man, wearing no shirt, kneels at their feet, his gaze cast down at the floor.
The man on the left, a bit older than the other by ten years or so if I had to guess, gives the younger man on the floor an occasional touch on the head.
The smaller man leans into his hand like a pet looking for affection.
My attention moves to a woman sitting in front of the stage where Miles’s beau had performed earlier.
There’s a man with her now, tall and handsome like the one who left with my best friend, but not quite as built.
The woman’s cheeks are flushed, rosy-pink as the man kneels before her and begins stroking his hands along exposed skin: cheeks and neck, then arms and hands.
He runs the backs of his fingers up from her ankles to her knees before moving his hands to the insides of her thighs and sliding between her legs.
Her head lolls back, causing her hair to drag along the floor.
I’m interrupted from watching a group of men who are entranced by the contortionist in the silks by a tap on my shoulder. It’s Valerie, one of the floor managers for this portion of The Club.
“Severin is asking for you,” she whispers in my ear.
I nod. I have an idea who Severin is.
Valerie leads me through the curtain that Miles disappeared through minutes ago. It’s a typical backstage prep area, complete with mirrors surrounded by lights, racks of what could barely be considered clothing, hordes of makeup and accessories strewn across every surface.
Brenton appears by my side. Club security is tight, and most of the time he keeps to the shadows on my trips here, but this Severin is new, and my protection officer doesn’t like new.
Valerie holds up a hand. “Before you start, Captain Mercer, Severin has gone through all the usual vetting processes and has signed an ironclad nondisclosure agreement, same as all our employees.”
“And the private dressing room?” Brenton presses.
“Free of all but his personal bag, which was searched on arrival,” Val assures him.
Brenton grunts but steps back, removing himself to the shadows once again.
Valerie turns to me. “Severin asked me to tell you that he heard you like to watch and that he is pleased because he likes to be watched.”
“Shocking, an exhibitionist stripper.”
Val huffs a laugh and opens the door a tiny crack.
The unmistakable slap of flesh on flesh reverberates through the opening, and I slip inside.
If anything can put me in the right mindset to begin my post-Aurelia comeback, it’s seeing my best friend balls deep in a beautiful man whose face is currently fashioned in a mask of pure ecstasy. Fuck they are a sight to behold.