I walk into the club. They know me by now, and they know my routine. Drop my things off in a locker, drop my bottle at the bar. Chat with the bartender a bit while she pours my drink, then head to the top floor. I'm so nervous that I feel like everyone must see. After all, tonight's just a bit different. Tonight I'm trying something I've only dreamed about.
I make my way up the stairs, sipping the whiskey with one hand, lifting the edge of my robe with the other, trying to project confidence and surety. Some part of me realizes that I'm probably smiling too much, and I try to calm my nerves. The shadows of the top floor seem to pour onto the landing along with the sounds – music and a distant moaning.
Turning the corner, I notice a couple sitting on one of the couches, tentatively touching each other and shooting glances towards the back. First night, I think. It was hard for me to move past the lounge at first. The playroom is … intense. But maybe I can get them to join me. I'm right on time and it would fit my plan nicely.