We’re on the third-floor lounge—it’s one of the more spacious lounges with a private balcony. A perk from knowing Christian Giordano, one of the club owners.
We go way back and our families are close. Friends like me get certain privileges. A good view and a great place to chill out are just a few of the perks.
The guys and I tend to meet here first before we head to the Playboy Lounge
Where we sit is perfect to see everything around us. From the stunning Venetian décor that envelopes you from the second you walk in, to the people on the dance floor dancing in some wild sexual frenzy with their bodies clashing together with each beat. All the women are in their finest lingerie, and everybody’s wearing masquerade masks.
It’s the thing here. The Dark Odyssey is a sex club that caters to the wild like me. They hold nightly masquerade lingerie parties where you can either lose yourself, or your soul.
I swear to God the type of sin these people get up to every night would definitely allow passage into hell. I’m one to talk. I was raised Catholic, and look at me. I’ve been here more times than I’ve been to mass.
I don’t think I’m as bad as some though. I just like sex. Doing it and watching. I won’t bother denying that I’m a voyeur. I am in every sense of the word.
So, watching the people fucking in the cubicles on the sidelines of the dance floor and the floors above and below me is nothing new to me.
Tonight, they’ve gone wild with the Chicago heat, and all around me there’s every kind of pairing. Couples, threesomes, and lots of group sex. Men with women, women with women, men with men, and all of them together. You name it, I’m looking at it, and in the middle of it all are the devils who dance like they’re possessed.
It’s all a thrill, and that’s what I’m here for.
By the end of the night, I’ll most likely be no different to anybody else here. Tonight might very likely see me ending my day balls deep in some helpless waitress in an attempt to forget a woman who’s plagued my thoughts for the last two years.
I don’t know what kind of loser I am, but it’s certainly the kind who’s not acting very smart.
Wade returns with our drinks, and I see he’s opted for whiskey instead of the beer he said he was going to get.
“Thought you’d appreciate this more,” he says with a wild smirk and hands me my drink.
“Yes. You know me too well.” I chuckle.
“I certainly do,” Wade answers.
I nod as I take it. I need a whiskey, for sure. I take a good swig and set the glass on the little table in front of us that holds the ashtray.
It’s times like these when I’m glad I have him. I have two best friends. Paul and Wade. Paul got married two years ago and only comes to the club with his wife. That’s understandable. Wade comes with me for the reasons every single guy who’s looking for a wild sexual thrill comes here.
We tend to go crazy when Chad and Mike; our other friends, join us. I’m hoping for a night like that in the Playboy Lounge.
Wade looks me over with scrutiny as he lowers to sit in the chair opposite me. “Rough day?”
“Rough week,” I clarify, and he raises his brows.
That’s all I’ll be saying to him, though, by way of explanation, which I know isn’t much. There’s a good reason for that. The differences between Wade and Paul are vast.
Paul is the level-headed friend, and he’s probably the only reason why I still have a job. He was able to stop me in my tracks before I fell over the edge of reason over Paige.
Wade would have told me to keep seeing her. Wade would have told me to sleep with her. Wade would have told me I wouldn’t be the first college professor to sleep with one of his students and I certainly wouldn’t be the last.
So, I’m not saying shit to Wade, because he would tell me it’s my second chance to get the fucking goods.
“It’s just Monday,” he points out, shaking his head with slanted eyes.
I take a draw on my cigar and chuckle. “Yeah, rough week. Be glad you’re a banker.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t trade careers with you, I’m afraid.”
Bastard.He loves money too much. Like Paul, I met him in elementary school, and he’s always been the same crazy guy.
“What’s with you, James?” he asks. “Not that I’m not happy for the impromptu visit here, but shit, it’s Monday night. Even you still class that as a school night.”