Page 2 of Wicked Dares
“Nothing more than what we used to get up to in the past.” Alexis laughs and tugs me closer. “Come on, you’ll be fine. I can’t wait until we get inside and see the lounge.”
I chuckle, deciding to relax and allow myself the reprieve of a stress-free night. God knows I need it. Haven’t had one of those in a long time.
We continue down the path and join the fast line when we reach the club. Alexis was fortunate enough to get VIP passes from a friend who works here.
We don’t have to wait long. The doorman's eyes skim us once when we reach the front of the line. One flash of our passes, and the velvet rope lifts without a word.
We climb a set of wide stone steps, and the moment we step into the foyer, we’re wrapped in the electric ambiance of the place.
The walls gleam in glossy black, almost mirror-like, dusted with fine specks that catch the light like scattered diamonds.
The air smells heavily of expensive perfume, liquor, and the earthy scent of money.
People move around us in designer dresses, tailored suits, and masked faces, some laughing, others speaking in low, excited voices that blend with the muted bass of the music.
Alexis guides me forward toward a sleek reception desk. Behind it, attendants dressed in black hand out masquerade masks. Tonight is a Venetian Masquerade-themed night.
When we reach the desk, a tall, willowy woman with a purple pixie cut greets us.
“Welcome to Wicked Dares.” Her gaze flicks between us and her smile widens. “Is it your first time here?”
Alexis answers for both of us, pointing at me. “For her.”
The woman grins, then gestures to the tray in front of her. Sleek black wristbands rest on the velvet surface.
“Once you put this on, you’re part of the game,” she explains, her tone smooth. “Do you accept the club rules?”
“Yes,” Alexis and I answer.
The woman hands us each a wristband.
When we put them on, she holds out two black silk masks with silver feathers on the edges.
We put them on and look at each other, smiling.
“Enjoy,” the woman chants.
“Thanks,” I answer.
We turn and head toward the main room.
Alexis opens the door, and we walk out to the dance floor.
Vibrant music swells as the space opens up into a crowd already lost in it.
The room is huge with multilevel tiers, each ringed by velvet booths. At the corner is a staircase leading to a bar built on a platform with more dancing bodies.
I look around, admiring the décor. The room has a classical-meets-contemporary vibe about it that intrigues me.
“This place is amazing,” I say, taking it all in.
“Told you.” Alexis giggles.
“You certainly did.”
“Let’s grab some drinks.”
She pulls me through the crowd, then past several couples pressed close in the alcoves.
