“You’ve been there?” Mark asked.
“I told you, it’s amazing. Listen, you said your fifth anniversary’s coming up, and you’ve been looking for something special to do with her, right? Well, here you go.”
Mark looked at the card again.
“Keep it,” Tony said.
Mark sat at his desk, absently tapping the card in his fingers. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea for Anna’s anniversary surprise. Provided, of course, he could talk Anna into doing something like this.
But would it really take that much effort? One of the things that originally attracted him to Anna, and kept him attracted to her after all these years, was her sense of sexual adventure. The escapade at the boat pond was proof of that, and it wasn’t the only time.
It was only their second date, with both of them drunk at a local bar, when she went down on him in the women’s bathroom, her mouth wet and cold from all the beer. Angry patrons banged on the door, trying to get in, demanding to know what was taking so long, and neither Mark nor Anna cared. She let him come in her mouth, and then she spat it into the sink. Their second date, for God’s sake! How could he not have fallen in love with her?
Just then, Arianna walked past his desk, flashing him a bright smile. She wore a tight black outfit, clearly defining that gorgeous body underneath. It was too tight for her to be wearing a bra, and Mark was sure he could see her erect nipples poking against the tight black top.
He smiled back, and when she was gone he let his breath out slowly. He didn’t want to cheat on Anna. He didn’t want to hurt her, or lose her. But the fantasy of Arianna’s head tapping against the Xerox machine was turning him on again.
Maybe the Aphrodite Club would be just the thing he needed to simultaneously appease and exorcise the feelings that fought inside him. Maybe the thought of Arianna sucking him off in the copy room would pale in comparison to what he and Anna would see and do at the club.
He picked up the telephone, and pressed nine for an outside line.
Mark worked from home the next day. Anna was away at her office, and Mark was checking his work e-mail when the doorman buzzed from downstairs to say a messenger was coming up.
Mark opened the door, expecting to see some kid with dreadlocks and a bicycle helmet standing in the hallway, holding a battered manila envelope. Instead, Mark found himself almost unable to speak, his jaw frozen open for an eternal moment.
She stood in the outside hallway with the luminous poise of some ancient Greek statue of a goddess, carved with care and grace from a single slab of marble. Long dark hair framed a face of finely etched features and piercing dark eyes, then continued cascading down to touch the spaghetti straps of the tight red dress that hugged the generous curves of her slender body.
She held out a brown leather folder sealed with a gold magnetic snap.
“Thanks,” Mark said, finally finding his voice. Her finger grazed his hand as he took the folder from her, and it was like electricity running through his body, sizzling through every limb until it ultimately surged into his loins and stayed there.
She smiled and turned wordlessly to walk away. Mark’s eyes traveled down the creamy skin exposed by her open-back dress, down to the provocative swell of her ass.
“Wait,” Mark called after her. He couldn’t let her go, not yet. He just needed one more look. “Do I have to sign for this?”
She turned back to him, her exquisite lips parting to draw breath. “No, Mr Wagner,” she said in a silky voice. “That won’t be necessary.”
Back at his desk, Mark ignored the waiting e-mails on his computer screen, and opened the folder. The leather was soft in his hands, and the gold snap came apart with a satisfying click. Inside was a thin, perfectly bound booklet with crisp white covers, announcing:
WELCOME TO THE WORLD’S LONGEST
CONTINUING ADULT CELEBRATION
WELCOME TO THE APHRODITE CLUB
The booklet offered a brief history of the club, with large black text and plenty of pictures of the club’s interior and the various important people who visited throughout its history; impressive names like Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, Hugh Hefner, Marilyn Chambers.
The Aphrodite Club has been continuously open for business and attended by maximum capacity crowds since its inception in 1866.
Founded by a small group of anonymous Greek investors interested in exploring the sensual side of adult life in a safe and responsible environment, and without interference from society’s stifling rules, the Aphrodite Club instantly became Quick City’s best-kept secret.
Today, the club continues in that same spirit.
The Aphrodite Club is designed for couples – or more – only. All are welcome in our luxurious and sanitary surroundings. The rules of society do not apply here, but rest assured, the Aphrodite Club maintains the strictest policies of safety and privacy.
Call soon to make your reservations!
Mark looked in the folder again. There was nothing else, no certificates of age verification, no questionnaires, not even directions on how to get to the club.
He checked his watch. Anna would be coming home in about twenty minutes. Mark took a deep breath, then called the Aphrodite Club.
The woman on the phone said they didn’t have any reservations available for the next two months. Mark’s heart practically sank out of his body. He’d gotten so excited by the prospect of taking Anna to the club on their anniversary that he hadn’t even considered they might be fully booked that night.
And there was something else feeding his disappointment, something unexpected: the woman who delivered the package. She didn’t look like an ordinary messenger; no, she was involved in the club somehow. He wanted to see her again, and the thought of laying eyes on her once more in the erotically charged environs of the club was almost more than he could handle.
“I was really hoping we could get in,” Mark explained, trying to remain calm. “It’s our fifth wedding anniversary, and -”
“Please hold,” the woman interrupted.
A moment later, another woman’s voice came on, a familiar silky voice that said, “No problem, Mr Wagner. We’ll see you then.”
Mark’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s you,” he breathed into the phone before he could think better of it. “You came by my apartment.”
How did she get back there so fast? he wondered.
“Will you be there?” he continued. “At the club, that night?”
“I’m always here, Mr Wagner.”
“Mark, call me Mark.” He couldn’t believe what he was saying, but he didn’t want to stop himself, either. This was all too exciting to be checked.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Mark.”
“Me, too.” In the reflection of his computer monitor, Mark could see the stupid grin on his face. “What’s your name?”
“I’m called Priestess.”
“Priestess,” Mark said. “I like that.” His mind flooded with fantasies of ancient cults of women-priests in sheer flowing robes, naked women tied to stone altars and struggling against their bonds, frenzied lesbian orgies in honour of their goddess…
“Admission is paid at the door,” Priestess continued. “Three hundred dollars, cash. A copy of the directions to the club will be faxed to you right away.”
“Let me give you my fax number,” Mark said.
“That won’t be necessary, Mark. Have a pleasant evening.”
A moment after Mark hung up the phone, the fax machine started ringing.
That night, with Anna sweating and grinding on top of him in bed, Mark closed his eyes and pictured Priestess.