Finn's Shot (Eden's Odyssey Book 1) (6 page)

As the night goes on, Tanisha
shows up, and I spend a little time with her at the bar while she sips her gin
and diet coke and attempts to be subtle about her obsession with my head of
security who is standing with his back to the sleek mahogany bar top. The bar
area is full of people happily flirting and chatting while they sip their
drinks, making it easier for her to stare without it being very obvious. The
slow driving beat of the Enigma song in the background helps to keep the mood
sexy and mysterious. A soft complimentary glow typical with an old school
dinner club heightens the intrigue. No harsh fluorescent lighting here.

Although this is a sex club
the only people allowed to participate in sexual acts in the main room are the
performers. Kissing and light touching are no problem but I prefer to keep the
heavy stuff in the dungeon or the rooms. This isn’t a brothel.

“Why don’t you just approach
him? He’s quiet, but he’s not shy. This has been going on for years. He’s not dating
anyone, and if I’m not mistaken you share the same kink. Just go talk to him.” 

“I haven’t ever seen him with
a black woman before, only these little white women who run around here all petite
and stuff.”

I cock an eyebrow at her.

“It’s obvious how long those women
last, right? Not long. He’s been looking for a real woman for a long time. Get
over there. Just don’t distract him too much before he’s off the clock; I need
him to keep the peace.”  

“You never have any trouble
here. His job does itself.”

“That’s because no one wants their
membership revoked. Oh, but Kevin got crazy earlier tonight, so I
did
need him to do his job.”

“Kevin?” Her voice is incredulous.

“Yup. Thought he saw Marie
again. I didn’t want to tell him that Marie is about twenty years older than
that girl, but it’s true. He still remembers the sweet young thing he last
saw.”

“I think that’s sad.”

“Me too. That’s why I refuse
to kick him out for good. I just made him go home.”

She nods like she understands
and turns her attention back to Charles, who happens to be checking her out at
that exact moment. His blank expression hides what I’m guessing is a flurry
thoughts regarding Tanisha. I’ve long since suspected he’s into her, but he’s
never made a move. She’s not subtle about her feelings for him, so I can’t
quite figure out why he hasn’t made a move. Several times I’ve come close to
quizzing him on the subject but backed down for some reason or another.

 I pat her arm in a show
of support and stand to make rounds again. I try to make several rounds
throughout the entire club each evening that I work. It’s not necessary, my
staff is professional and competent. I just like to spend time getting to know
the clientele and on occasion getting a little sexual enjoyment out of the
place. There really isn’t a lot for me to do so I share polite conversation
with a few guests and mosey back to my office to finish some paperwork. At the
end of the night, I return home alone and spend the evening wishing I could
have Finn and this life I love, too. I’ll have to give up one for the other,
and I’m not willing to do that right now.

Luckily, I noticed that he
stopped calling me, so that sort of helps. Of course it also gets my brain
working overtime as I wonder who he’s with tonight. I’m half horny and half
jealous thinking about it. I know he’s not alone. Not a guy like him. His sex drive
is too high to go too long without any companionship.

Almost a month has gone by since
I was with Darcy, and I’m half crazy over it. I’ve checked the local listings,
and she hasn’t had any shows where I could stalk her. I even drove by her place
several times, only to see the lights out in her apartment and her car gone.
It’s like she disappeared into thin air. I should have known pushing her
wouldn’t work. She was adamant from the beginning that she wanted us to be
casual, and I had to freak her out with my possessive shit. I should’ve learned
with Nadia, the ex-fiancé who cheated on me, that if someone doesn’t want to be
yours they won’t be. Darcy’s so different than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s laid
back, funny, creative, beautiful, passionate and giving. Most of the women I’ve
been exposed to are plastic. They are more concerned about what designer they
are wearing or if their makeup is right than they are about truly enjoying life
and giving of their time and money to causes they believe in. Most women I’ve
encountered in the last five years are just looking to be my arm candy. I want
a partner, an equal. Someone whose as smart as she is beautiful. Who’d rather
give than receive and someone who can stand on their own two feet when I’m not
around. Darcy is all those things and more so I couldn’t help myself. My inner
caveman came out ready to claim and mark her as mine. It’s almost as if I lost
control of myself completely when I was with her. I didn’t want to lose her,
especially to some punk I didn’t see coming. Instead, I ruined it myself.

Tonight, my friend and
teammate, Bobby, swears I will quit moping around and get laid. I have doubts
about that since I haven’t been able to look at another woman since I met
Darcy. He doesn’t get it though. He’s the perpetual playboy, forever looking
for a goodtime with no strings attached. Apparently, a friend trying to keep
him out of trouble and the media spot light recommend he join this super-secret
sex club. He visited once before but now that he’s a member he has gotten me a three-day
guest pass. I had to go through a freaking background check, blood work, STD
testing, and sign a nondisclosure agreement with my lawyer present. One thing I
can say for the place though, is they are discreet and clean. But seriously,
it’s not like I’m going to announce I went to this place. I’m not even going
for sex. I’m going out of curiosity and boredom. I have nothing better to do
and never been to one before, so why the hell not? I always thought sex clubs
were urban legends or places that Hollywood types thought up. I want to know if
it’s like an old time whorehouse or if it’s like the Tom Cruise movie where
everyone is wearing masks and people are having sex all over the place. I have
no idea, and Bobby wouldn’t say, so I guess I’ll go and find out for myself.  

I shrug on a black button-up
shirt, the first set of cuff links I ever bought and a grey tailored suit. I
forego the tie and run my fingers through my hair. There’s a strict dress code
to get in to this place, so I had to don the monkey suit tonight. As I exit my
room, my eye catches the splash of red and green on canvas and my heart aches a
little bit. I need to take it down it just makes me think of her more. I sound
like a total pussy. I’m just glad none of the guys from the team can hear the
tragic shit that goes on in my head sometimes. I’d never live it down,
especially since I met Darcy.

I step into my kitchen, take
two shots of whiskey and pop in a piece of mint gum to kill the taste. Then I
head downstairs where Bobby is picking me up. Half an hour later we pull
through the gates into a parking lot of a non-descript, older warehouse
building on the south side of town. There is a black awning over a door on the
far right side of the building. There are several rows of expensive cars parked
here, but if it weren’t for those, no one would look twice at it. In several
places on the building, security cameras are secured, and the red light under
each indicates they’re on. My guess is no one wants to leave these cars out
unattended in this neighborhood. It’s kind of a seedy area, and I wonder if I’m
being punked. There is no way a sex club is housed in this old building and in
this rundown neighborhood.

Bobby slaps his hand on my
back as he encourages,  “Come on, man. I swear this is legit. Doc, referred
me and I came as his guest. Do you really think an old family friend would have
sent me somewhere shady? It’s cool. You’ll be surprised at what you’ll find in
here. It’s not trashy like a lot of the strip clubs we end up in. This is a
classy joint.”

I look from him to the
building and back again, allowing him to see the doubt in my expression. “I
don’t go to trashy strip clubs, Bobby.
You
go to trashy strip clubs.”

“Once upon a time you did,
too. When you were new to the NHL, you went out, you got around. I know for a
fact you hooked up with your fair share of strippers, so don’t act holier than
thou. I’m serious though. This place is sweet. If you hate it, you can leave,
but give it a couple of hours at least.”

“Alright, man. I didn’t jump
through circus hoops and drop a couple of hundred dollars on my lawyer to back out
before I walk in the door. I’ll check it out, but don’t expect me to do back
flips.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I just
want you to quit moping and enjoy life a little. Ever since that chick blew
through your life things have been different.”

“Okay, let’s do this then.”

I can’t imagine what I’m
about to walk into. I duck a little to get through the door. I’m sure there is
some clearance, but it feels like a tight squeeze for a guy who’s six foot six
inches. A reception desk is located inside the doors where an attractive, petite
Asian-American woman no older than twenty-five takes our names and checks our identification.
“Welcome to Eden’s Odyssey, I’m Christine. I’ll be glad to answer any questions
you have. Charles, our head of security, will be here in a moment to give a
tour to your guest and review the rules. I realize you’ve been here before Mr.
Tyler, but now that you’re a full member, we like to review expectations to be
sure nothing was missed.” My curiosity is peaked as this is all very James Bond.

A tall, well almost as tall
as me, wide-shouldered, midnight-skinned, African American man in an expensive
black suit with a deep red shirt underneath meets us in the foyer by the door
that leads to the inner sanctum. He reaches his hand out in greeting and we
take turns shaking.

He looks directly at Bobby
and says, “Mr. Tyler good to see you again.” Then he turns his attention to me
and introduces himself.  “I’m Charles, head of security here at Eden’s
Odyssey. I trust you read the rules? We generally don’t have any issues, but we
like to make our expectations clear. You must be Mr. Thompson?”

Taking a second to assess the
hulking head of security I note the shiny bald head, the no-nonsense expression
and the beefy hands. “Yes, Finn Thompson.” I keep eye contact, trying to get a
read on him, but he’s obviously good at keeping his responses locked up tight.

“I recognize you from Sports Center.”
He gives a little chuckle and continues, “Follow me, and I’ll show you around.
You can ask questions or inform any of our staff of issues or concerns at any
time during the evening. We do our best to make this a pleasurable experience
for everyone. Most of the time there aren’t any issues.”

When we step through the door,
the first thing I notice is the sultry beat of Enigma playing in the
background. The lights are low and candles burn on the tables scattered throughout
the space. The décor is classy. Around the room are paintings depicting the
Garden of Eden. Very fitting. Everything is done in rich red, gold, and navy. Thick,
dark-colored, expensive carpet runs the length of the cavernous room up to the
edges of what looks like a dance floor in the middle. What my mother calls
bunting and heavy draperies line the walls, creating a luxurious indulged vibe.
My mind flashes to Darcy and her love of color. She would love the look of this
place.
Why can’t I get her out of my head?

A variety of people mill
about, from young twenty year olds to early sixty year olds. Everyone is
impeccably dressed and attractive in their own way as far as I can tell. In the
middle of the dance floor are two stripper poles, each with a young tight body
spinning and flipping to the beat of the music.

Charles points out the bar that
runs almost the length of the side wall and explains there is a two-drink
maximum and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks available. Shoving my hands in my
pockets, unsure of what to do with them, I follow Charles down a long, wide hallway.
Down one side are several different rooms which Charles calls ‘The Scene Rooms’
and says can be reserved and used to perform in with any manner of sex act as
long as it’s legal, safe, and consensual. There’re three rooms on the right with
no windows. One can be reserved for private gatherings of more than six people
and has no furniture in it at present. When a person rents the room equipment
and furnishings are added, depending on the use of the room that particular
night. George explained that one room is full of BDSM equipment and the other a
bed and chairs. They’re all in use, so we’re unable to tour them at this time.   

Circulating around the room
are escorts of both the female and male persuasion. Dressed like everyone else,
classy, ready to impress, it’s hard to tell them from the members. To identify
them, they’re all wearing a quarter-sized gold star pin on their chest. Their
fees vary depending on what you want to do with them. He goes on to explain
it’s their right to turn down customers or situations they’re not comfortable
with, although that rarely happens. The escorts are apparently a new addition
in the last six months, since prostitution has only recently been legalized in
this state. The escorts use protection and provide blood test results once a
month and full physical exam results once a year.  

As Charles finishes with his
spiel, a knock-out brunette strolls by, all legs and rocking hips with a sultry
grin, leaving Bobby cross-eyed in an instant. Her long chestnut hair has been
curled on the ends and is bouncing as she walks. She has on more makeup than I
usually find attractive, but she wears it well. Her lush lips are painted candy
apple red and glistening from some kind of gloss, perfect for a lipstick
commercial. She’s wearing a little black dress that blouses at the top, hangs
off one shoulder and has spandex at the bottom just long enough to cover her
ass. It’s just the right amount of cover up and come hither. Sexy and even a
little classy. My friend is gone. Hook. Line. And sinker. Poor guy. Guess I
need to remind him of who she is before his dick leads him into a situation
he’s not expecting. Bobby tends to see the outside package and dig right in.
More than once he’s gotten himself into sticky situations he had no idea how to
extract himself from. In fact, that’s how he ended up at a place like this to
begin with.

“Not a club member, dude.
Escort. You pay that one. She has the gold star by her left breast,” I mutter,
loud enough so he can hear me but not so loud that anyone else can. He nods,
but it doesn’t look like it matters to him.

Charles leads us to an
elevator, and we ride to the second floor. An intricately carved wooden
bannister circles the opening between the first and second levels that
overlooks the dance floor.  I run my hand along the smooth surface as we
follow Charles around to the side and through a set of tall double doors. It’s
a cavernous room with twenty or more people either participating in BDSM play
or watching. It’s the biggest display of this type of thing I’ve ever seen
outside of a movie. It’s both shocking and interesting at the same time. Although
I’ve never been a person who’s into all of this, I still find it arousing as
the low moans from the women echo around the room as I walk by. The sound of
smacking flesh and the scent of sex has my cock rock hard, something I didn’t
expect. My body is reacting like a teenager in throes of puberty. Adjusting
myself as discreetly as I can, I shake my head and turn to Charles and remark, “Wow.
Much different than I expected.”

“You aren’t the first one to
say that. Oh, I forgot to tell you, at eleven o’clock there’s a live sex show on
the main dance floor until Midnight. You may look, but no touching the
performers.”

We both nod our
understanding. Thank goodness Bobby heard all of this on his last visit,
because he’s very distracted watching the scenes play out in front of us. He
reviews the rules of the dungeon as they call it, and I only partially listen,
because I don’t expect to spend any more time in here. It’s just not my thing.
My living is made hitting and being hit; I have no interest in pain off the
ice.

Charles leads us back
downstairs to a hallway near the entrance and shows us six office doors, each
with a name plate on them I don’t bother to read, because, frankly, I’d have no
idea who these people are anyway. He does mention that they belong to the
owner, the manager, Charles and the security team, one is a staff lounge and
changing room and the other is for the custodial staff. At the end of the hall
are two doors marked men and women, which he notes are the bathrooms.

“That’s it for the tour. If
you have any questions, please let me know. The owner will be in a little
later. She likes to meet all of the clientele, and the manager will be
introducing himself, too.”

“A woman owns this place?” I
turn to Bobby and ask a bit surprised.