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MADELINE
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God forbid I have any fun. Or even a life, or even the decency of getting something to eat and drink. Mal had to flip the fuck out when she saw the charges I made. She canceled her debit card. Even if I got my hands on it again, it is useless to me now.
Good thing I still have the eighty dollars in cash that was in her purse; funny how she didn’t say anything about that. If money is so tight that you have to let a family member starve, then you should notice cash missing from your purse. She is such a pretender. Greedy propaganda has latched on to her, I see. Typical for someone who is programed to walk the line.
It didn’t sound like she was pressing charges. She just cried about being taken advantage of and went to bed. I wasn’t dumb enough to show my face while she was in that mood. Once the coast cleared, I came out of my hiding spot—the spare bathroom—and checked myself out in the full-length mirror she has by the front door.
I managed to snag a few outfits from Mal’s closet while she was at work. This chick is one-hundred percent vanilla. There wasn’t much in there that I would wear, but I can make do with almost anything. It’s one of my superpowers.
Now that I am back to limited funds, there will not be any parties where I can look like the hero. Boo!
I will not stick around this tired joint tonight. There has to be someone out here willing to offer me a good time. Mean old Mallory sure isn’t up for entertaining her guest. It is almost like she is trying to push me away. When I leave here for good, I am never coming back. That will show her.
***
An hour into the night, I find myself outside of a very discreet-looking club. Watching people pass through the threshold tells me you need an invitation to get in. I don’t have one of those, but it has never stopped me before.
Most of the people going in are couples, pairs of guys and girls, or even the same gender entering together. Hmm, this is somewhere I want to be. How should I play this? I mean, my outfit is on point, along with the hair and makeup. Now I just need to find someone flying solo and show a little interest.
Not even five minutes go by, and I have found my mark. Look at this guy. All by himself, following behind a beautiful couple showing way too much PDA for a busy street. He looks unsure of himself, but he’s dressed the part. Not short, but not very tall either, maybe around five’ eight. Black suit, spiffy shoes, and thick black hair slicked back and showing off his pale, flawless skin. He’s pretty ordinary and just my type, meaning he might fall for the shit I am about to sling his way.
“Hey, are you going to the party?” I step between him and the Instagram-perfect couple that just passed me, blocking his way to the entrance.
Mr. Bland isn’t paying attention to where he is walking and almost falls over, trying to avoid running right into me. As he stumbles, the little ticket he held in his hand so dearly falls from his grip and flutters to the ground.
I casually lean over—making sure he gets a view of the goods as I do—and pick it up from the soiled concrete. “I think you dropped this.” My voice is seductive as I wave the invitation his way.
He doesn’t know how to react. “Um, yeah, that’s mine.” His hand looks lonely as he holds it out before me, waiting for me to pass said invitation over.
Before handing it back to him, I take my time looking at it, making it seem like I don’t know what the ticket allows him access to.
“Oh, wait!” I plaster shock and excitement all over my face before I look back in his direction. “Are you going in there?” My finger points to the entry behind me. “I am supposed to be in there right now, but my date is a no-show. Serves me right for trusting someone I met online, right?”
He isn’t buying it. Or maybe that’s confusion I see. The man already looked unsure of himself before I even approached. Perhaps he needs a hand. “Sorry.” I fan myself with his invitation. His feet bounce with irritation as he waits. “It’s so hot out here.”
“Yeah, can I have that back so I can go inside? You know, where there is air-conditioning.”
Letting out a soft, feminine chuckle and leaning forward just so he knows how dumb, yet interested, I am. “Oh, my God! Silly me. Say, are you going to the party alone?”
A pause. He needs to think about my question. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
“Well, this is like fate! I am here without a date and no invitation, you know, because my no-show date has it, and you are also here but have no date.” I noted the ticket allows the invited guests and a plus one when I picked it up. “It’s fate or like kismet or something. I’ve never had this happen to me before. Have you?”
His face scrunches up with uncertainty. “Um, no. I don’t think so.”
“Then we must act on it. We would be tempting the universe if we didn’t. You know, butterfly effect and all.”
“What?” This man has no clue.
I take his hand in mine—the one not holding his invitation—and drag him to the entrance. I have to act fast before his head clears and he realizes he is now part of a game he didn’t sign up to play.
Passing the now crumpled and dirty invitation over to the bouncer, I say, “We are together.”
He eyes it wearily, but asks no questions. My mark is still in his trance, so I drag him through the door as soon as it opens for us.
Wow! What the fuck did I just walk into? At first, I thought it was just a high-end strip club. We went through a dark hall, but once we round the first corner, all hell breaks loose. A stage in the middle of the room has a spotlight on it. There is a woman on the stage, half-dressed and eerily still. All the spectators try to remain silent, but you can hear the hushed whispers circling about.
“Hey,” I turn to the guy still attached to my hand. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, Scott?” he answers like it’s a question. Either he is still lost by my earlier derailment, or he is just as mesmerized by the scene in front of him as I am. Scott, like snot, I tell myself, trying to ingrain his name into my memory.
“Okay, Scott. What is this place?”
He suddenly turns to me with a serious expression. “I thought you were coming here with someone. Dressed like that, I figured you were in one of the acts. How do you not know what it is?” He points to my crotch-hugging black skirt and skin-tight halter top, a little something I doctored from Mal’s closet.
Hmm, interesting. “Scott, is this your first time here?”
He lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Uh, no. Why would you ask that?”
“I can just tell when it comes to stuff like this. How did you get an invitation to this place?” He shakes his head, trying to avoid my question. I eye him up and down, letting him know that his demeanor says enough.
“Fine, it was given to a buddy of mine who is married. His wife wasn’t into it, so he passed it on to me. Are you like security or something? Am I getting kicked out now?”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Listen, this place looks super exclusive. Neither one of us is supposed to be here and we don’t want to end up like some Eyes Wide Shut cast-outs or anything. So, let’s try sticking together, act as if we belong, and see where the night takes us. Sound good?”
“Alright, I’m in,” he announces with more confidence.
***
Three hours later, I find myself on a secluded stage. I have no idea where Scott ran off to—so much for trying to stick together—he disappeared almost an hour ago, right about the time I was pulled into a threesome on stage with Alberto and Marcus. Perhaps it was a penis other than his own entering me that scared him away. Who knows? He probably had high hopes.
All I know right now is this place is fucking fantastic and I don’t care who is watching. This is some of the best sex I have had in a long time. Not the best sex ever, but in a while, yeah.
I am repositioned to straddle Marcus while Alberto enters me from the rear. It is so classy. The crowd-watching doesn’t go wild or take pictures like most places would. No, they just stand back and admire the art we exhibit while quietly fondling the person next to them, or in some cases, themselves.
Once Alberto and Marcus are spent, some random person walks up and hands me an envelope. I am still reeling in the night, taking in everything that has just happened. I haven’t even noticed that the crowd dissipated, and my companions are long gone.
Catching my breath, I weigh the envelope in my hand. What is this? I peel back the lip and see a stack of cash inside. What? Okay, chill the fuck out, Madeline. First, I need to get dressed, then I need to get the hell out of here before they realize they just gave a bunch of money to the wrong person.
Slipping back into my clothes, I try to dip out of this joint unnoticed. No luck. Someone stops me at the exit. They aren’t too demanding, and I think talking my way out of this will work better than fighting.
“What was your name?” the security guard asks.
“Uh, Charity,” I answer in an instant. If they are going to come after someone, it won’t be me. Sorry, Charity, whoever you are.
“Here.” He hands me a pass. “We hope to see you next week?”
Wait, what? “You got it!” I take my pass and get the fuck out of here before he can change his mind. Looks like I found myself a job!
When no one is around, I stop to count the cash. A hundred and fifty bucks in tens and twenties. That’s it? For some reason, I feel like the services I was willing to give for free are worth more than this.