*𝘖𝘕 𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘋. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 May*
𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐰𝐨 | 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
There's a place downtown where frosty pints of beer overflow, and wine stains the lips of whispering lovers under flickering c...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
My life is far from a movie, and I’m definitely not some prince charming. Yet, as I stand at the bottom of the grand staircase at Penthouse like Leonardo Di Caprio waiting for Kate Winslet in Titanic, I want to take Hazel’s hand just like Leo did.
After last night, I didn’t think I’d see her again, so Hazel’s presence is a welcomed surprise. She was beautiful in her sparkly black dress, but today she’s more casual with jeans tucked into tan lug boots and a chunky knit sweater. Some might prefer the glammed-up version, but I find her more gorgeous like this.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.” She flashes a quick smile and adjusts the strap of her purse. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I was in here last night, and I think I lost my necklace in the bathroom.”
“Of course, I remember you.”
“Oh, well, um…” She fusses with her purse strap again as her eyes search the vast, empty dancefloor. “I remember wearing the necklace before going into the bathroom, but when I got home, it was gone. Is there somewhere I can ask about it?”
“Follow me,” I say.
And this time, as I lead her to the manager's office, I decide I’m not letting her leave without figuring out a way to see her again.
The management office is located past the private rooms, so I take us through the oak double doors and into the corridor people rarely see since only a few can afford this area. I walk through here all the time, so it’s just an ordinary hallway to me, with several doors on each side leading to rooms where rumors are born. But when I look over my shoulder, Hazel is sizing up the walls with their black, velvety textured pattern and the oil paintings of half-naked men and women as if this were a gallery show. Most people are shocked by the sexually suggestive art, while others realize it’s a glimpse into what their night will entail in the private rooms.
“What is this?” Hazel asks.
“What’s what?”
She motions to the walls. “This.”
“You don’t like it?” I grin and begin walking backward to face her.
“It’s just… it’s a very different vibe from the rest of the club.”
“That’s the point.” I wink. “What happens in these private rooms stays in these private rooms.”
“And what happens in these private rooms?”
“I can’t tell you. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
What our guests don’t know is that at Penthouse, we have cameras everywhere. And I mean everywhere, including the bathrooms. Of course, we’d never tell a soul since we’d get in too much trouble for doing that. However, with the number of high rollers we have gracing us with their presence, it’s easier to track down thieves if we have eyes everywhere. It’s also easier to catch assholes who attempt to lure vulnerable drunk women into dark corners. Most importantly, it comes in handy when we need to stop drug trading.
