The Social Club

I had been invited to an exclusive club by my good friend, Brennan Gilbraith, this upcoming Friday. He had mentioned it several times over the past few months, but when pressed answered that only a full member (which he was not) could bring a guest to attend. Brennan had spoken of the exceptionally rare and high-end liquor that was served at the bar, the finest cigars rolled deep in the Amazon, and female company that would have lesser men begging on their knees, groveling for the ladies’ attentions. He was very excited when he told me that he had been granted full membership and had immediately petitioned to invite me to a special event that was coming up. We spoke several times in the days leading up to it, making preparations and describing the strict dress code for attendance. This warranted only the classiest and best tailored of suits, so arrangements had to be made through Brennan’s personal tailor for me to be fitted the day before. As modest as my salary is, I knew I could spare no expense on the evening and was able to afford a well-appointed, double-breasted Italian suit with ostrich leather shoes. Brennan’s tailor was fantastic; I’ve never felt more comfortable in a suit before in my life. I was careful as ever transporting it to my apartment that afternoon and slept fitfully that night, agonizing in anticipation for the next day.

Office hours were a blur, my mind racing at the possibilities and ecstasy that surely awaited me in the approaching evening. I work at a prestigious law firm and Brennan had assured me that the networking I would to be to do with other high-rollers at the club would have a great impact on my client-base, as well as introduce me to some very upper echelon people in the legal and business worlds. By the time I finished my last brief of the day, my body was running on anxious adrenaline; logging off, hailing a cab, entering my apartment. I spent the next couple of hours meticulously preparing my body and my wardrobe for the night ahead. I poured myself a glass of Glennfidditch 15 to calm my nerves after a long shower and carefully shaving my neck and face, attempting in vain to exercise patience since our black car wasn’t to arrive until nearly eleven. By ten forty-five I was dressed, shaved, had applied my best cologne and was waiting outside my building awaiting my transportation to an evening I will never forget.

The sleek, black Chrysler 300C glided to a stop at ten fifty-eight, Gilbraith lounging in the back with a glass of Dalmore King Alexander III waiting for me in his hand. I had it only once before, when he was promoted to partner two years ago to celebrate that fine occasion. The privacy panel was closed, the windows so heavily tinted I couldn’t see the lights of the city as we roared through it. The driver was a professional, my stomach pressing into my spine at the speed of which he carried us to our destination. Gilbraith laughed at my obvious discomfort for I was gripping my tumbler in one hand and the door handle with the other, white-knuckled at every turn. Within what seemed like only minutes, I felt us slow and decline into what I presumed was an underground garage before rolling smoothly to a stop. The doors opened of their own accord and I was greeted by a red velvet curtain the size of double doors that lay before me, guarded by a large gentlemen in a finely tailed black tuxedo. What struck me as odd was not this curtain in place of a traditional door, but that the doorman was wearing a black driver’s cap with a black veil that hid his entire face from view. Gilbraith smiled at him and waved something he had in his hand that I could not see, and the doorman reached across to the center of the curtain to part it and admit us inside.

We walked down a dim hallway lined with exquisite fabrics on the walls, interspersed with elaborate candles mounted every six feet or so before coming to another curtained entryway. Upon pulling it aside ourselves and walking through, the sudden sound of big band music assaulted us after the quiet hallway. Blacks and reds were the theme of the establishment and every surface gleamed with a polished shine. The tables were black obsidian topped over flowing red tablecloths, hiding the legs from view. A long, dark mahogany bar ran the length of the left side and disappeared around the corner. From the end of the bar the floor stepped down to dozens of tables that surrounded and lavish theatre stage set high and back. Several booths run opposite the bar with a line of tables set between the two. Many of the tables were filled with men and women in the finest tailored fashions; glittering, high-end dresses and sleek, well-fitted suits were the standard attire of all present. Gilbraith guided me to the bar to order us a drink, a liquor I had never heard of before that the bartender removed from an ornate cabinet resembling the tabernacle one might find behind the altar in a Catholic church. He presented us with a lavish bottle that had multiple obscure designs etched into the clear glass, the liquid inside a golden brown akin to a rich bourbon or scotch yet seemed to glow as of lighted from within. He poured the heady liquid into two tumblers set before us, Gilbraith nodding in acknowledgment before guiding me towards the stage, drinks in hand.

We sat at a corner table and before I could even scent my drink, he placed his hand palm-down over my glass.

“Not yet, my man! First, a toast to our recent fortune!” he said with a devilish grin, “May fortune favor the bold, and with Izkarah’s blessing, may we never grow old! To Izkarah!” he recited, holding his glass towards mine. I reciprocated the gesture and responded:

“To Izkarah!” not knowing this strange word as I repeated it. Gilbraith’s grin widened even further as he raised his glass to his lips, watching me do the same. The scent of the liquor filled my nostrils before the glass touched my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine and creating an interesting sensation deep in my skull. The taste when it hit my tongue filled me with a sensation not unlike the warmth of being held in the warm embrace of an old familiar lover, all of that heat and excitement and anticipation rolled into one body encompassing feeling. I’ve never imbibed anything quite like it, and I try to be a connoisseur of fine and exotic liquors. The heat and electricity in that one sip coursed through me in a way that is difficult to describe; it made me at ease and at the same time energized all at once, rivaling some of the best sex I have ever had, brushing on orgasmic.

The sudden silence brought me from my reverie and I attempted to look about and see why the club had come to such a hush. The lights had dimmed somewhat and there was a figure I couldn’t quite make out upon the stage. I recalled the stage seeming closer when Gilbraith and I took our table, yet it appeared set further back, although I admit the powerful concoction my have altered my perception in that moment. My eyes tried to focus on the figure that appeared center-stage - an almost impossibly tall woman in a flaming red dress with soft, blonde hair cut in a short bob that did not reach past her chin. Her hands appeared to be clasped at her knees, yet she was not slouching - her posture was near perfect and the discrepancy between her height and the length of her arms I wrote off as a trick of the light and the potency of the drink in my hand. She poke without a microphone and her voice carried throughout the club like the wind, the words meaningless to my mind though I understood that the show was about to begin. The curtains closed before her and the lights went out in their entirety, the sudden darkness leaving a ghostly silhouette of her in my vision.

Three pinpricks of deep-red light appeared to fall from hidden sources in the rafters above, and landed gently upon three figures clad in black cloaks, their faces hidden from view by large hoods. Their lack of even the slightest movement made me think they were statues, until a light ripple of wind stroked the robes on a mesmerizing fashion. The ripples became waves as the figures beneath the heavy cloth moved with a feline grace, swirling and launching folds away to tease a glimpse of flesh under the dark fabric. With a synchronized spin akin to the finest ballet dancers, the cloaks were thrown into the air with such force and precision, they appeared to hang suspended in the air for several moments while holding the illusion of still being worn on the stage. My gaze was brought back to the stage by the lithe movements of the supple dancers, clothed in lustrous ballgowns strategically tailored to allow for their fluid movement.

The rest of the audience is caught in similar rapture, following the enigmatic dancers in their sensuous and striking routine. I didn’t notice the masks they wore as I was enamored by the liquid grace of their dance, flowing through each other and around the stage. They slink down the steps and into the crowd, weaving seductively around the dozens of mesmerized patrons, their bodies communicating carnal promises from one individual to the next, before moving on to yet another. I was in awe of their movements, their lithe bodies affecting me in the way their provocative dances are meant to. I felt detached and warm from the drink that I had been sipping while observing the performance, which only narrowed my focus onto them. My gaze caught the attention of the nearest dancer,, with long silky black hair and an ornate mask of whorls and carvings that spoke of a strange origin. She stalked towards me through the crowd, not one misstep despite other patrons standing up in her way, trying to deflect her towards them. She wove through the obstacles of people and tables with ease before arriving at our table, stopping while placing her right foot sheathed in a leather stiletto heel onto the cushion of my chair between my legs, the long length of her bare to the hip. My pulse quickened as she reached forward to caress her hand from my cheek to my chin, tracing her red-tipped fingers down the front of my body before grabbing my tie and pulling me up her leg and to my feet, straddling her muscular thigh. My face was mere inches from hers, I could see her flawless makeup yet her eyes were lost in the caverns of the of the mask. She gracefully withdrew her leg and led me to the stage, my heart in my throat and my body hot with desire as she led me up the steps and to one of the three stools that had appeared upon the stage.

The two other dancers had found their prey, and led them to the stage alongside myself and my escort, each of us sitting in velvet cushioned stools for the rest of the crowd to see. A devilish handsome man was seated to my left and a strikingly beautiful woman to my right, but we barely noticed each other as the dancers became a blur of flesh, strips of their dazzling gowns being torn away in a most provocative flourish and fluttering to the stage like thin ribbon. My peripheral vision gave me glimpses of parted lips and glistening brows on my fellow participants, their warmth and arousal as contagious as the dancers’ movements. My own breath was quickening in anticipation, of desire and need, my body reacting and my mind had no thought of embarrassment or to hide my growing arousal. Their sensuous contact with my body, fleeting as each touch was, pushed me to a point beyond breaking, although I was restrained by the trance-like movements of their bodies. The one who brought me to the stage spun from the woman to my right onto my lap, her nude legs straddling my waist and draping her bare arms over my shoulders. The heat of her body resonated with mine, the remains of the gown covering only her most delicate places, and my hands reacted on liquor-infused instinct to caress the naked flesh offered to me. My palms and fingertips caressed the smooth, toned skin of her legs, moving to cup her supple backside to draw her hips tighter into mine and feel me pressed against her most intimate places. She tightened her thighs around me, pressing her forehead against mine, the dewiness of her sweat mingling with the heat of mine and her hair cloaking our faces in shadow. She slips the mask away and I feel something soft and wet caress my lips. Breathing heavy, drunk on the exotic concoction given to me by Gilbraith and the unbridled lust coursing through my being, I opened my mouth for a passionate kiss. She pulled me closer and only then did I open my eyes to see the rings of teeth in a gaping maw before she sank her multitudes of teeth around my face to devour me whole.