[Alice in Wonderland Retelling]
"Wonderland Incorporations brings to you a lavish escape from reality..."
From across the city, there was a neon red rabbit in the dark of downtown, inviting you to a world of escapism, where no fantasy cannot be fulf...
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The air was hazy, filled with the intoxicating smoke of nicotine, and sweat from the lustful bodies wrapped around each other, lost in their own world of sex and sin, so unaware of their surroundings and eyes on them.
I swirled my drink around in my hand, and watched as a man traced his hand up a woman's thigh, underneath her dress, while the woman in front of her stroked her face and left red stained kisses across her neck.
I wanted to be the one in between them.
The glass windows, tinted from the outside, gave the feeling of forbidden voyeurism, as if the whole city were watching the figures slide against each other under the red hot glow of neon lights. The rabbit-shaped neon sign flashing across the city, enticing those sinful and daring enough through its doors. My last night on leave, I should at least make it worth it.
I tossed back the shot of rum, my only one for tonight.
You don't just come to Wonderland for a taste of the pastries, and the erotic dancing flowers who brush across your lap, petals falling off their breasts, the room swirling around you.
You come for the whole poison.
Masked figures, people of all sexualities and shapes and backgrounds, each beckoning me into an erotic dance of pleasure and pain. Tonight, I wasn't Alice, the FBI agent who should've been fired long ago, who didn't know what she was doing with her life; I was the White Rabbit. Unassuming, innocent, virginal. Feral.
I wanted someone to pull my hair, tug the leash on my collar. Tomorrow, I would be at the submission of gray haired Fueller and paperwork, hungover, starving for touch, and cornered in a cubicle with no hands to roam across my body.
I couldn't tell you how I found this place, this neon hole in the wall, the laced sweets and bitter drinks. A blissful, dizzying dungeon. I knew I wasn't going to remember any of this tomorrow morning, only the soreness between my legs, and the memory of a Cheshire smile from whoever will follow me into the Cage tonight.
And lucky me, I could see the man with the masked dark eyes and the bold top hat watching me from the rail on the platform above me, with silent promises of satiation and torn clothes.
