By 7:45 that night I’m a bundle of nerves. I check the mirror for a final time and then head out, but when I get down to the lobby, the doorman stops me.
“Your cab is here.”
I pause. “I didn’t order one.” Yet. The address in the text is way across town, and mama doesn’t take the subway in heels.
The doorman shrugs. “He said you would be expecting him.”
I follow him outside and cautiously approach the cab.
“Miss Jenkins?” the driver asks. I nod. “Right on time.”
He holds the door open for me. I check the car, but it looks legit: a regular yellow New York cab with a driver ID number on the back of the partition. I get in.
“It’s an address uptown,” I start to say, but the guy just starts the engine and turns the radio up. We drive away.
I sit back, and decide to relax. The neon lights of the city are passing by outside the window, and I’m on my way to meet a sexy stranger for a night I’m sure I’ll never forget.
Still, safety first.
I dig my phone out of my purse and call Keely.
“What’s up, babe?” she answers on the first ring.
“I’m going on a blind date,” I tell her.
“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?”
“I don’t know, that’s why it’s a blind date,” I smile. “I’m texting you the address, so if you don’t hear from me tomorrow…”
“I’ll have every police officer in the state on alert,” Keely laughs. “So how do you know him, anyway?”
“It’s a friend of a friend,” I lie. I haven’t told her about the invitations yet. I like that they’re just my naughty secret right now.
“Have fun,” she tells me. “I want to hear everything!”
I hang up, and try to collect myself. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into here. I barely know where we’re going. I tried to google the address, but it brought up nothing. I’m going in blind: I don’t know whether it’s going to be a fancy restaurant, or a trendy club.
Or a hotel room.
Since I didn’t know where I’m going, it took forever to pick an outfit. In the end, I went with one of my favorite dresses, a deep fuchsia wraparound dress that can be opened with just a strong pull of the sash. I always feel so sexy and daring in it – a strong breeze could flip my skirt and reveal the sinful scrap of black lace thong panties I’m wearing underneath.
After a few more minutes, the cab pulls to a stop. I look around. We’re on a deserted industrial street – the kind that will probably be hip in another year or two, but right now just looks sketchy. There are no restaurants or bars nearby, just old warehouses and a run-down dry-cleaners with a ‘closed’ sign out front.
“We’re here,” the driver tells me. I gulp.
“How much is the fare?” I ask, reaching for my purse, but he shakes his head.
“All taken care of. I’ll be waiting here whenever you’re done.”
I take a breath. That makes me feel better: knowing I can leave anytime I want. Still, this is seriously weird.
As I try and work up the nerve to get out of the cab, a black limo pulls up just ahead of us. A couple slide out of the limo and walk over to the warehouse building. They’re dressed in a suit and cocktail dress, and the woman has a fur wrap thrown over her shoulder. They step inside and disappear.
Seeing them out here makes me feel reassured, like I’m not going to wind up dead in a ditch before morning.
“Well?” The cab driver asks. “Are you gonna sit there all night?”
I make a decision. “No.”
I get out of the car and walk over to where the other coupled entered the building. My heels tap on the cobblestones. They’re not so much fuck-me heels as fuck-you heels: black peep-toe stilettos with leather straps that criss-cross up my calves. I always feel invincible and bad-ass wearing them, and I figured I could use the jolt of confidence tonight.
As I approach the door, my pulse kicks with excitement. I’m taking a step into the unknown with this guy tonight. And I can’t wait.
I turn the handle and step inside.
Inside is a small lobby area, dim and classy with marble floors and a sleek antique desk. I let out a breath of relief. It looks nothing like the building exterior, which makes this even more intriguing. A large man wearing a suit and an earpiece guards a staircase cordoned off by a velvet rope.
“May I help you?” The voice comes from a dark-haired woman in a lace dress, waiting behind the desk.
I clear my throat and look at the bouncer again. I still have no clue what this place is. Exclusive restaurant? Members-only club? “I’m not sure. I got an invitation…” I trail off.
“Do you have a key?”
“A key?” I repeat, confused.
“Yes. To access the club, you must have a key.”
I stop, my mind racing. So far Mr. X has planned everything about our encounters with perfect precision. He wouldn’t have sent me here unless…
Wait. The key pendant he sent me as his very first gift. The diamonds were too stunning to resist, and I’m wearing it around my neck tonight. The pendant nestles in my cleavage, hands-down the most gorgeous piece of jewelry I’ve ever owned.
“Do you mean this?” I ask, pulling it over my head. I hand it to the woman, and she smiles.
Bingo.
I watch as she inserts the key into a small box connected to her laptop. She reads the screen and her eyes widen. “Ah, yes. Hello, Ms. Jenkins. We’ve been expecting you.”
She hands the diamond key back to me. “We suggest you keep your key handy while you’re here. It can be used to pay for anything you like - drinks, dinner, or any of the more... exotic amenities,” she adds with a knowing smile.
“Do you know who it belongs to?” I ask hopefully. “Who set this up for me, I mean.”
Her smile turns bland. “I’m sorry. We’re very discreet about our members’ privacy.”
No go.
I slip the necklace back around my throat and turn towards the stairs. The bouncer unlatches the rope, and stands aside for me to pass.
“Wait,” I pause, glancing up the stairwell. It’s dark, and I can’t see more than a few feet ahead. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.
“What is this place?” I ask, feeling a tremor of nerves.
“It’s fantasy made into reality,” he replies with a wink. “Welcome to the Underground.”