SAPPHIRE
Four hours later I wave Raphe off and step into Chicago’s second sacred location.
Club Sin.
The one place where your sexual fantasies can come true.
Numerous lavish locations for the club span the continent from New York City to Los Angeles with a few select cities in between. If what Belle tells me is true—and she should know—there are plans in the works for a Club Sin: Paris with other exotic locations in mind.
I turn on my heel. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.” A short woman with silver hair and wise eyes stumbles a little, her purse falling to the ground. I catch her elbow and we somehow manage not to topple over.
“I am so sorry. I should have looked before I just started walking. Are you okay?”
I kneel and start gathering the fallen pieces of paper that escaped the lady’s purse when I pause.
“The death card,” I say. I turn my gaze to hers when she comes to her knees beside me.
“Seems your guardian angels are working late tonight.”
A set of warm hands gathers mine for a quick squeeze before releasing me.
“You’re a tarot reader?” I shouldn’t sound surprised, but getting this card on a day like this one knocks the wind out of me.
My heart isn’t in my chest for long after she nods and says, “And I guess I just did a reading for you, hon.” She plucks the death card from my hand and raises it with a side glance at Club Sin. “And something tells me you’re about to find out what this card means for you.”
She collects her belongings and with another smile she disappears around the corner.
I gather the ends of my evening gown and thank the doorman as he swings the large polished door wide for me. I take one last look behind me, but the older woman is gone.
The converted hotel from days gone by reminds me of the Waldorf Astoria with its limestone and brick in various shades of gray, weathered by time and the changing seasons. I let those thoughts trickle through my mind instead of what just happened.
A canopied entryway leads to a luxurious interior. Cool, floral-scented air wraps around my heated skin and I sigh with welcomed relief. Not only from the heat outside but from the events of my day. Remnants of adrenaline cause my fingers to tremble and my knees are not doing all that well. They wobble as though I took a power walk through hell and survived.
The entrance is barren of people so I take a moment, close my eyes and find my inner calm. Fallout from my father’s actions isn’t new. And today is just a taste of what I am facing if I continue with Genesis.
I roll one shoulder and then the other. Finishing with Riot took longer than expected. Seconds after hitting send on the contract runners started phoning in with sightings—most false but a couple held promise. Riot insisted on sitting through every single minute until the runners grew quiet. A bottle of vodka and some smooth-talking from Harlon helped convince the tortured man to let the runners do their jobs while Riot got some sleep.
Behind me the doors snick closed, locking out the sounds of evening traffic. Silence wraps around me. Here I allow the tension of the day to unwind from my shoulders. One muscle at a time I can feel the stress of Genesis leech from my body and into the ethers beneath my feet.
I open my eyes at the sound of feminine footfalls on marble.
“Welcome to Club Sin, Ms. Constantine. It’s good to see you are enjoying your new membership.”
What she means is, wow, you’re back again?
The elegantly dressed hostess greets me with a smile and hands me a fountain pen. Rich black ink glides over thick, eggshell-colored paper as I sign my name in the club’s ledger with gold leaf and finished edges.
“Is Belle Constantine in her dressing room?”
The hostess is already shaking her head and gesturing for me to follow. “She’s waiting for you in the private viewing room for a drink before her show.”
Just like Belle. A little pre-party before the real deal.
I follow the hostess out of the reception area with its high chandeliers and large floral arrangements. The clack-clack of our heels on the marble floors is the only sound until we reach the lounge. Notes of low-tempo music pipe into the spacious atmosphere and each vibration works to free the remaining tension in my body. My gaze draws to one side where a long bar is backdropped by a wall of multi-colored bottles. You would think the first thing you see walking into a sex club is sex, but not so much. They leave that for the specialty rooms on the levels above.
Members spread out along the expansive black marble, some standing while others enjoying the lavishly cushioned leather stools with their top-shelf liquor. All speak in soft voices and give off a mellow vibe in the contemporary setting.
All of this is in stark contrast to Genesis. To me anyway. My cousin and his friends seem right at home in their mobster club, but to me, my senses are always on high alert for lurking danger.
Where on the flip side, the clean lines, muted lights, and golden elegance of Club Sin work together to wrap its members in sensual acceptance. No chance of meeting people like Snake Eyes here.
I follow the hostess past the bar and through a black door with a simple, elegant golden plaque that reads Mirror Room in smooth black. It’s one of many showrooms, according to Belle. I haven’t ventured outside of this room much so I am sure there are delights to be discovered for the adventurous types on the other levels.
I pause before stepping inside the room. Every cell in my body is on high alert. Clashing desires send my heart racing. I want to see them, but at the same time, I’m afraid tonight I might be the one to approach them.
Or they could not be here at all.
That thought is killed off the moment I cross over the threshold into the soft-lit room.
Their presence is felt before I lay eyes on them.
They sit in the same booth with the same bottle of vodka. Same dire expressions on their stoic faces. There’s a problem and the solution isn’t obvious. Why that thought enters my mind is probably due to dealing with issues all day long and noticing the signs.
But their problems are not mine to solve.
Out of habit, I note the members already gathering in other various booths. The square ones along the outer wall feature lavish velvet curtains and removable tables that sink into the floor. Two booths away is where I spot Belle waving me over.
Toward the center of the room are various sized settees in black leather that circle the low stage in the center of the room. No walls. No curtains. Those are reversed for the members who find sharing their passions with others just as much of a turn-on as the act of sex itself. Above us is a ceiling of reflective glass.
I have to admit, it’s not my style, but I love watching others find what makes them happy. It’s addictive.
My attention falls to the group of men and their tattooed hands again. I don’t know why I feel shocked when the one facing me raises his eyes.
A shiver runs up my back.