9. Enzo
ENZO
“Back again?” The woman on the door of JADED doesn’t even try to hide her amusement now. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?”
“Does my entrance fee get halved every time you ask a question?”
Her lips curve into a distinctive smile in the glow of the flashlight, and I realize that she isn’t as old as she appears to be at first glance.
Her silver hair is still thick, but her skin is unlined, and there’s a steely tension to the set of her jaw.
She’s on the door for a reason: she can take care of herself and anyone who gives her hassle.
“That’s not how it works.” The smile vanishes as quickly as it appears.
I tap the card reader with my credit card. This might go down in history as the most expensive fucking entrance fee to a club ever, and there’s still no guarantee that Nyx will be free tonight. The light above her door has been red for the last three nights.
Maybe another client feels he has the monopoly on her time.
Maybe she’s been sick and the room was empty all along, in which case they could put a fucking sign up or get Ms. Flashlight here to warn visitors before they part with their dollars.
Or maybe this is some sick fucking joke at my expense, and the people behind closed doors are laughing all the way to the bank.
When I dismissed my driver, Luis, and got a taxi here tonight, I told myself this was it. Last try. If the light is still red, I’ll walk out the other side and I won’t come back.
But I lied to myself.
Whatever game this is, whichever one of us is in control, it’s what’s getting me through the day.
The promise of coming here and maybe spending time with her, maybe not.
The thrill of not knowing. The smell of her perfume, and the touch of that almost-garment she was wearing, and the sound of her voice: they all make me feel something.
Standing here in my socks while I hand over my shoes, the blood is pumping around my veins and reminding me that I’m alive.
“Have you had a wager on how many times I’ll come back before I give up?” I ask as she hands over the familiar mask.
She’s good. We’re not alone in the foyer, someone else always fastens the straps at the back of my head, but her eyes never waver from mine.
“You won’t give up, so it would be an easy win for me.”
I smile. I don’t know why I’m delaying the inevitable.
Perhaps a tiny part of me still hopes that if there’s a client with Nyx, they’ll get their fix and move on.
Or maybe I’m already resigned to going back to my apartment and sleeping in the guest room with a bottle of brandy, no closer to figuring out the rules of the game.
I’m about to cover my face with the mask when she says, “You know what I would tell you if you were my son?”
That stings. The ache of losing my parents when I was just a kid dulls sometimes, but it always flares up again when I least expect it. Like now. A hug from my mom could fix everything, and I can almost feel her arms around me as if it were only yesterday I last saw her.
“I love you, son?” I shrug. “Even when you’re making a complete ass of yourself.”
She laughs now, a throaty sound that matches the shadows on her face caused by the flashlight. Then, as if cut off by the sudden realization that she shouldn’t interact with the clients, she stops, and the silence becomes denser than it was before.
“You know she isn’t real, right?” Her eyes bore into mine.
“I know Nyx isn’t real.”
Her hand clamps around my wrist, almost as tightly as the metal bracelet I’m given to wear while I’m here. “Don’t go getting any ideas that you can change that.”
“I won’t.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Maybe it has something to do with the line of work you’re in.”
Her lips twitch again, but it would appear she no longer finds me entertaining. “If you’re looking for more, I’m sure it could be arranged.” She barely pauses before snapping, “Mask!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mask, or I’ll have you removed.” Her expression is stony, and I can’t tell if it’s real or if she knows exactly where to place the flashlight for maximum effect.
I cover my face with the mask, and the fingers behind me fasten them nimbly like they’re on a timer to keep me moving. Get the visitor out or the room will implode.
Curiosity might’ve killed the cat, but it hasn’t stopped me yet and dropping a hint like that is like waving a red flag in front of me. “What did you mean, if I want more. More what? How do I go about getting it arranged?”
I don’t want more women. I don’t even want to take it further with Nyx because the reality will never live up to the illusion.
I simply want to understand what she’s offering, because I get the sense this is what JADED is really all about, and these rooms are little more than a precursor to the main event.
“You don’t get it arranged,” she says as the door clicks open. “Goodbye, Brian.”
I walk through the door and enter the dark corridor where the light above Venus’s door is green. The goodbye sounded final, almost as if she knows we won’t be meeting again. Why? Because I ask too many questions, or because she dared to answer them?
It’s still niggling away at me when I pass several red lights and find myself standing outside the room with the name NYX on the door.
The light is green.
Nyx is here, and no one is with her.
My heart is hammering inside my chest when I open the door and step inside. Her perfume reaches me almost instantly, and adrenaline pumps through my veins.
“Hello, Brian.”
Excitement battles with the disappointment I felt over the last three nights, standing outside that door and seeing the red light.
“Did you miss me?” I ask.
The silence stretches beyond a couple of beats. Then, “Did you want me to miss you?”
The game is back on, but my excitement is holding fire for now, unsettled by the conversation with Ms. Flashlight in the foyer. I could come clean, tell her that I was here every night, that I wasn’t allowed to wait around for the green light, but something is stopping me.
If you want more, it can be arranged.
Was that supposed to entice me away from Nyx? Is every fucker playing a part in the same game, and I’m the only one here without a clue what’s going on?
If I want mind games, I can spend twenty-four hours in the company of my sister. She’d love this place. She’d have them tied up in knots by the end of the first evening; they’d probably pay her not to return.
“Was that part of the game, Nyx? Keeping me waiting?”
“I…” She hesitates. “Yes. It was part of the game. Did it work?”
Something has shifted. She was about to say one thing but changed her mind and said yes instead.
“Depends on the outcome you were hoping for.”
“Well, you’re here now.”
No. This doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it, but she sounds… different.
“I’m sitting on my hands, Nyx. I want you to come closer.”
I understand now that everything we do and say in here is monitored, so I sit on my hands to prove to the assholes behind their screens that I’m not here to break the golden rule.
I hear the faint rustle of clothing and breathe in her perfume.
“Close enough?”
It’s Nyx. But a more somber version of the woman who made herself come for me because I asked her to. Her self-confidence is gone. The real Nyx is hanging out in the background while her echo does the talking.
I want to ask her what happened, but that’s a direct route to getting my ass hauled out of here and reacquainting myself with the external wall of the building next door.
“What are you wearing for me tonight?”
“For you?” I get the faintest hint of a smile behind the question, but it doesn’t make me feel any less uneasy. “I kept it simple. Why don’t you guess?”
I think about how I envisioned her the first time. Blonde hair, white underwear, understated but still fucking sexy.
“You’re wearing white panties trimmed with lace, and a white tank.
There’s a gap between them, revealing your toned stomach and a transparent gem in your belly button.
Some might say you’ve dressed for comfort over commercialized sex appeal, but that’s because you don’t need to dress it up.
” I swallow hard, my erection growing inside my pants.
“Close.” A hint of the real Nyx is shining through.
“What did I get wrong?”
“The gem is purple, like an amethyst.” She’s teasing me now. “And no tank.”
“White panties?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are your nipples hard?”
“So fucking hard.” Her voice is husky.
“Are you touching them?” My erection is busting through my pants.
“Yes. I licked my finger and now they’re wet.”
I slide my right hand out from under me and rearrange my cock inside my boxers. “Can you come any closer?”
“Yes.”
I hear her movements. I couldn’t hear her before, not even when she tried to snatch the robe back from me the last time I was in this room, and an image pops into my head of her chained to the wall like a prisoner to prevent her from getting too close.
What the fuck!
I drag my other hand out from under my thigh and clench my fists. And my jaw. And every other fucking part of me that’s sending warning signals straight down to my rapidly deflating cock. Now that I’ve imagined it, I can’t un-see it.
“I want you to take off your panties, Nyx. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course.” No hesitation.
Maybe I’m so far off-track, I’m ploughing through the bushes on the side of the road, but I lean towards her voice anyway, careful to keep my hands close to my sides.
And there it is, the heavier than usual exhalation as she steps out of her panties.
“Do you want to touch them, Brian?”
Silly question. I’d take them home and sleep with them on my face if I thought I could get away with it, but I’m sure that will break a previously undisclosed JADED rule.
“No. I want you to put them back on.”
She hesitates, but we both know she’ll do it.
I lean closer, sitting on the edge of my seat and squinting into the all-consuming darkness. She takes her time, and maybe my imagination is playing all kinds of psycho tricks on me, but I swear she holds her breath while she steps back into them and then releases it sharply.
“Now take them off again.”
“Is this a new game?”
“You could call it that.”
I feel bad, but I’m playing along for the assholes who made the rules.
I need to know that she’s alright, and I’m fucked if I’ll give them any reason to hurt her again.
Because I’m almost convinced that’s what has happened to her and it’s the reason why the red light was on for the past three nights.
I listen, but I don’t hear anything.
“Where are you?”
“I’m right here, Brian. I’ve taken them off and I’m holding them in my hand.”
“Come back.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere.” She’s lying.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“No.”
“You know what will happen if you lie to me?”
The game is sticking in my throat. But I’ve already shown too much interest in her, and sure, it cost me close to a hundred grand to get my ass kicked out of here three nights in a row, but I get the feeling Nyx suffered the brunt of their dissatisfaction.
“I’ll have to spank you.”
“You know that isn’t allowed.”
“Not in here maybe.” I wait for the door to open and a couple of thugs to drag me out and punish me, but it remains locked. “I want you back where you were, so I can hear you take them off.” Her perfume gets stronger, and I smile. “Good girl.”
“They’re off.” She pauses for a couple of beats. “Let me guess, you want me to put them back on again.”
“You got it.”
She repeats the process a third time without being prompted.
“You can stop now. That’s once for each night you kept your red light on.”
“I… What are you talking about?” Her voice has lowered.
“The last three nights. Every time I came here, your red light was on, and they wouldn’t let me wait for you.”
“No. That can’t be—”
I hear a buzz nearby. “What was that?” I ask. No answer, but I remember hearing it before, maybe during my first session. “Nyx?”
I’m on my feet now. I sense that the session is being cut short because I mentioned not being allowed to see her, and I need to put it right.
“Okay, okay,” I say, talking to the void. “I’ll sit back down, just don’t hurt her.”
“You think I’m hurt?” She sounds distant. “Brian…?”
“Did they hurt you? Is it my fault? Did I get too close to you, Nyx, is that the problem here?”
I don’t know where she is; I can’t hear her, or smell her perfume, and for once the darkness feels suffocating.
“Look, I’ll hold my hands up.” I raise my arms above my head and make sure they can hear me. “She did nothing wrong, this is all down to me. But I want to remind you that this isn’t a fucking prison; we’re not here because we broke the law, so whatever fucking power trip you’re on, you can’t—”
I shut up when some kind of electrical shock travels up my arm and makes my back teeth crack together.
My body jerks, my eyes roll back in my head, and I collapse onto my knees on the floor like a house made of cards.
I taste carpet. I’m vaguely aware of the thugs entering the room, lifting me up by my arms, and dragging me across the floor.
“Nyx…” I mumble, but the sound comes out more like, “Unh…”
They carry me through the building, and I don’t try to stop them. I’m shaking uncontrollably, my teeth chattering like they stripped me of my skin and left behind a skeleton that hasn’t yet realized it’s a corpse.
I’m left face-down on a dusty hardwood floor while they remove the mask and the metal bracelet. Then cool air brushes my face, and I’m outside in the alleyway that I’ve become all too familiar with recently, and rain is pelting the back of my head.
I drag myself to a sitting position and lean back against the wall with my shoes and wallet in my lap while I wait for my pulse to regulate. When I’m steady enough to stand up, I stumble down the alleyway to the street and jump into the first taxi I can find.
This isn’t over.
Nyx is in danger, and I’m going to save her.
And Bianca is going to help me.