Page 27 of Mr. Perfect
Rocky gave the bruiser a brief nod, so Felix did the same.
“Mr. Kent and Mr. Wayne?” Felix asked once they were out of earshot.
Rocky winked. “Told you I was Batman.”
The interior of the club was where Felix’s imagination had steered him wrong. He’d expected hard-thumping music and sex acts everywhere his eyes landed. Instead, the atmosphere was mellow and surprisingly elegant. Felix tried not to gawk as his gaze roamed around the room. The posh black motif was only broken by green ambient lighting. Behind the bar was an enormous glass mosaic featuring the jack of clubs. Nearly every table was full, and there weren’t many vacant barstools.
A statuesque blonde holding a tablet approached them. She wore a short black skirt, a white dress shirt unbuttoned far enough to show a tantalizing amount of cleavage, and a million-dollar smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Mercedes. May I see your cards?”
She accepted Rocky’s card first and inserted the black plastic into a reader built into the tablet. It brought up his fake name, photo, and a list of preferences. When and how had he provided them? When could Felix get a closer look at what made the private investigator tick?
Mercedes handed Rocky’s back to him, then accepted Felix’s. He briefly wondered if Rocky had given him weird preferences as a joke, but this woman would be trained not to react if he had. She smiled at Felix when she returned the black plastic to him.
“Since this is your first time visiting, I need to go over a few rules and have you sign some documents.”
“Documents?” Felix asked. Like some kind of medical waiver? Was he ensuring them that his heart was healthy enough to witness the proclivities in the club?
“A simple non-disclosure form,” Mercedes said. “Guaranteeing our members’ privacy is of utmost importance.”
“Yes, of course,” Felix said.
Felix understood why the vibe in this part of the club was calmer. This was more like an anteroom. The wickedly good stuff happened deeper inside the building. Anticipation thrummed through Felix as he and Rocky followed Mercedes to a booth. She placed the tablet in front of them, and Rocky took advantage of the moment to slip his eyeglasses on.
Mercedes went through the club rules, which covered things like no touching without consent, no filming or taking photos, which were things Felix expected to hear.
“We have four sections in the club, and you’ll need to scan your cards to enter each one,” she said. “This, as you can see, is the jack of clubs. The next section is the jack of diamonds, followed by the jack of hearts and ending with the jack of spades.”
She described the services they could expect in each. Felix noticed the place started off mild and got wilder with each progression.
“Now, I need to explain something important,” Mercedes continued. “Your invitations are for observing only. We can’t allow anyone to engage with the club staff until they’ve been fully vetted. While you will be given full menus at each location, you’ll only be able to partake in the activities that won’t bring you into full contact with a staff member. To ensure your compliance, the cards we issued to you will not open any of the doors to private rooms.”
“Fair enough,” Rocky said. Felix nodded.
Both men signed the disclosure. Felix was so flustered that he nearly signed his real name instead of the fake identity Rocky had given him.
“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” Mercedes said silkily, slipping from the table and leaving Felix and Rocky to their own devices.
“Do you want a drink before we get started?” Rocky asked, gesturing to the small square kiosk on the table.
Felix shook his head. He preferred to keep a clear head. “Go ahead if you want one.”
Rocky swiped his card in the reader to wake it up and scrolled through the menu until he found the one he wanted. “A Manhattan sounds perfect.”
“That’s a strong one.”
“To match your will,” Rocky said. The man who brought Rocky’s drink to him was tall, broad-shouldered, and flirtatious. “Thanks, darlin’.”
Felix wondered if the waitstaff was chosen based on the preferences members, or potential members in this case, had provided. Rocky seemed to have a tough time tearing his eyes off the server’s ass when he walked away.
Rocky took a sip, then coughed a little. “They sure as hell don’t water down their drinks.” His voice sounded raspy as if the liquid had left a trail of fire in its wake. “Good stuff.”
“Sounds like it,” Felix said as he discreetly scanned the room. He watched as a leggy blonde led a man at least twice her age through a door in the back of the room with a glowing cobalt diamond on the wall above it. “How much do they charge for a drink around here?”
“This cost me twenty-five bucks.”
“Wow.”
Rocky leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and studied Felix’s face. “Do you know your eyes are the color of the Manhattan I just drunk?” He scrunched up his face. “Or is it drank?”