Page 37 of No Sweeter Poison

Like the rest of the club, the style is opulent but not modern, instead employing the use of art deco pieces to enhance the building’s early twentieth century features. It feels slightly Edwardian, slightly Roaring Twenties, with a dash of modern lighting to create an ambience that’s at once enticing and awe inspiring.

Alejandro has taste. I’ll give him that at least.

There’s music but it isn’t the kind that was playing downstairs—loud, exuberant, and heart-pounding tunes to get the adrenaline running. No, up here it’s synthetic beats, a woman’s voice edited to echo as she sings, seductive and elusive all at once. The bass is deep without being loud and the people here seem to be enjoying themselves.

As I make my way through, the scent of bourbon and cigar smoke fills my lungs and I’m starting to get the feeling that this floor is off limits for a reason.

Dancers in elaborate but tasteful costumes take their place at the poles. There must’ve been a show earlier in the evening because there’s glitter and confetti everywhere, especially on the stage. Maybe I arrived in time for the after party.

A couple on a long chaise are shamelessly shoving their tongues down each other’s throats as a waiter sets down their drinks. Another couple disappears into one of the private booths where curtains hang from above. The woman draws hers back and as I continue my surveillance of the room, I hear it.

Sounds.

The sounds they’re making, deep sighs and guttural moans, clothes rustling and zippers being pulled down—

My entire body flushes with heat. I spin on the balls of my feet and try to find my way out but end up going down a long hall filled with rooms that I don’t recognize. I’m way out of my depth here. This place is obviously for sex and I’d very much like to find my way out before I get pulled into a ménage à trois.

Not like anyone could get me out of this damned latex dress anyway. I swear, I think they’d have to tear it off my body with a pair of scissors and a pocketknife.

I reach the end of one hall and open a door, thinking it’s an exit. Instead, a group of four people all swing their heads around and I close my eyes, profusely muttering my apologies, before I stumble back into the hall. Without looking, I turn the corner and crash into someone.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Whoa!” the man reaches out and grips me by the upper arms. “Lost, honey?”

I recognize him as the American man I met downstairs. Behind him, his wife is giggling, champagne flute in her hand, as an Eastern European looking man kisses his way down her neck. The wife has her free arm thrown around the waist of an elegantly dressed Asian woman.

Swingers.

Interesting.

“Um…yeah.” I admit. “A little.”

“We were just heading out.” He’s a little drunk but harmless. His hand falls to my hip but the touch is light as he sways back and forth, heading towards the stairwell. “Follow us to the promised land.”

We make our way down a flight of stairs and the husband reaches into his suit pocket, producing a little packet of white powder. He waves it me. “Want some?”

Before I can reject his offer, the wife says, “We have to be up early, Ron! Enough of that shit.”

She says it with laughter in her voice, like she’s used to her husband being high and reckless when they’re on vacation together.

“It’s just a little bit.” He winks at me and dips his pinky into the baggie before dragging the substance across his teeth. “The jet’s leaving first thing in the morning. We have our niece’s birthday party tomorrow.”

I nod but this entire interaction feels so strange.

“So, where are you from?” the husband, Ron, asks.

“New York,” I answer.

He takes us down another flight of stairs, cutting through long halls and rooms I’ve never seen. Then again, it’s only my first time here. Judging by their familiarity with El Rey, they must frequent this place often enough to know their way around.

“Here on vacation?”

“Something like that.”

We make our way down one last flight of stairs and pass under a rounded archway which leads us back to the main foyer. I can’t believe he was able to get us out so quickly.

The group stops at the valet where the women pick up their purses and Ron settles his bill. The wife wanders over to me, eyes roaming up and down my figure appraisingly. “Here with anyone?”