Friday’s colorful dusk gave way to the deep black of night. Nina stood at the ornate door of the address provided to her.

The Wilson building. A former hotel in the heart of Shawnee. Although not on Main Street, the building sat between 9th and Broadway, the very heart of the city’s ribcage. The building was historic, eerie and beautiful, with its ornate columns and wrought-iron balconies. It stood out among the more modern buildings, a testament to a bygone era of opulence and extravagance.

Nina chastised herself. How long was she familiar with the Wilson building? The news of its renovation had reached her, but it had not caught her attention. As she drove down Broadway, she remembered seeing it. Its grandeur and elegance had never failed to impress her. Yet she never ventured inside. Nor contemplated the secrets it might hold. Never paid it the attention it deserved.

The cool breeze slipped through the fabric of her dress, sending shivers down her spine. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and rang the bell.

The chime echoed through the grand foyer. The sound resonated like a funeral dirge. She shivered, her hands clammy with nervous sweat. The door creaked open, revealing a tall, slender man with dark hair slicked back and a thin mustache. He wore a tailored, impeccable black suit, his eyes cold and calculating as they swept over Nina.

“Nina, I presume,” the man said, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the doorway. “I’m Victor. Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing Nina to enter. She took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumroll.

The interior of the house was opulent. Rich tones of gold and crimson decorated the windows. Ornate sculptures and paintings adorned the walls. A grand staircase curled upwards to the second floor. A crystal chandelier cast a dazzling array of light and shadow throughout the foyer.

Nina’s breath hitched as she took in the place’s grandeur. The air was thick with the odor of expensive cologne, stale cigars, and something else, something darker. Secrecy and danger laced the atmosphere.

Victor closed the door behind her. The sound of the latch clicked into place echoing through the grand foyer. “Welcome to the Wilson building, Nina.” His voice was a low rumble, almost a purr, sending a shiver down Nina’s spine despite the warmth of the room.

“You’re looking divine, Nina. I must say, you wear that black dress well.”

Flattery and an uncomfortableness overcame Nina. She never received such direct compliments, not from a man she just met. “Thank you, Victor,” she murmured, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress as if to emphasize the point. The fabric clung to her curves, its embedded sequins shimmering in the light. Its hem length would have been risque to Nina a mere week ago.

He led Nina through the grand foyer and into a large, opulent hallway. “Strange. I fancy myself quite familiar with the working-class. It is rare for someone of your status to accept offers from someone like young Rachel.” Victor said in a businesslike tone. “I’m surprised, and a tad disappointed, you became indebted to her.” 

Nina kept pace, scoffing. “All working-class people are indebted to someone, Victor. At least I chose someone I know and trust.”

Victor nodded with an affirming curl to his lip. “I have to concede that point is hard to dispute.”

“Do I need to sign something? A contract for my membership into this little club of yours?” Nina ventured, her voice filled with trepidation.

Victor chuckled, a low sound that sent another shiver down her spine. “So eager, Nina. I like that. You needn’t sign anything. Not yet, at least.”

He paused at a set of huge double doors, the wood with intricate carvings, the brass handles worn smooth by time. “As you are a mere guest.”

“Guest? I thought... Rachel invited...” Nina said, her voice trailing off as she realized what Victor implied.

Victor bowed his head in a solemn nod. “Indeed, invited you as a guest. Take heart, Nina. There are many guests, but few members. You cannot buy membership, nor can anyone invite you into it. It is... earned.” Victor placed his hand on the door handle, his eyes never leaving Nina’s. She could see a dark glint in them, a hunger that made her feel both excited and terrified.

“Earned? What do you mean?” She noticed the weight of Victor’s gaze, the sense of power that radiated from him.

Victor pushed open the door, revealing a grand ballroom.

The fragrance of expensive perfumes and colognes, the sound of laughter and quiet whispers, filled the room. The room held an eclectic mix of people, dressed in finery that rivaled Nina’s own. She felt a pang of self-consciousness, her hands trembling as she clutched her purse to her side.

Rachel sat at the table’s head. Rachel waved at Nina, her face breaking into a wide smile as she beckoned her over. Liam, beside Rachel, offered encouraging eyes.

Nina let out a quiet gasp of epiphany as she entered the room with ginger steps. “Liam is not a member either.”

Victor closed the door. The clunk of the latch echoed through the grand ballroom. “Indeed, Liam is a guest as well. Membership is a privilege not granted with light consideration.” His voice, a low rumble, dominated the room’s noise.

“Although, the young Liam has been most... productive. After he marries young Rachel, Liam will be one step closer to earning his membership. It is a trial by fire, so to speak.” Victor measured his words, his gaze fixed on Nina as if awaiting her reaction.

Nina’s eyes widened in shock. She had not expected such a revelation. “But... he’s engaged to Rachel. Doesn’t that mean something?” She asked.

Victor’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Ah, Nina. You are still so naïve. Engagements mean nothing in this world. It centers on pursuit and victory.”

“Then the purpose of this club is...?” Nina asked, struggling to form the question.

Victor’s gaze swept the room, his eyes taking in the dancers, the spectators, the quiet whispers and hidden smiles. “This club is about many things, Nina. But at its core, it is about desire. The desire to possess, to be possessed, to witness, to be witnessed. Here, people push boundaries, bend rules, and make the forbidden the norm.”

He turned his gaze back to Nina, his eyes piercing, intense, as it swept over her curvaceous form, accentuated by the dress that adorned it.

Nina’s chuckle shocked even herself. “Could you be any more cryptic?”

Victor cocked an eyebrow and curled his mustache. “Intriguing. Very well then. Every member has their own reason for participating. On the lowest rung, you have those interested in power, wealth, or status. However, at its heart, watchers and observers populate this club. I consider myself a searcher.” Victor’s gaze was distant, seeming to see far beyond. “I seek paradise, Nina. And I believe that this club, this place, is a step towards finding it.”

Nina furrowed her brow. Her mind raced to decipher Victor’s words. Instead, she found herself led to where Rachel and Liam sat.

“And here is our last guest. Late, but of the fashionable kind, and ravishing, as one would expect from young Liam and Rachel. Well done. You two never cease to impress.” Victor said, his voice booming throughout the room, silencing the murmurs and whispers that began filling the room. He then turned to Nina, a warm smile on his face. “Nina, darling, you look radiant. A vision in black.”

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Thank you, Victor. You’re too kind.”

Rachel patted the empty seat next to her. “Sit, sit, Nina. The night is young. I’m giddy with anticipation.”

Nina sat down, acutely aware of the situation surrounding her. She took a sip of the wine that was already poured for her. The liquid giving her a much-needed courage boost.

Victor sat at the table’s head, his gaze stern, sweeping the room. After a welcoming speech, the night began. It was cordial for Nina. The influential people greeted her with warmth, which surprised her. They made her feel somewhat special, wanted even. She took another sip of her wine, her nerves calming as the alcohol warmer her insides.

Nina sampled each of the various foods that people passed around. Her eyes widened with astonishment. Everything tasted so exquisite. A multitude of flavors danced on her tongue. She felt like royalty.

As the dinner progressed, the conversation flowed with ease. The guests spoke of art, literature, politics, and business, their words laced with intelligence and wit. Nina sensed she didn’t belong. Instead, her mind raced with thoughts of Gerald and Rosa, of Rachel and Liam. But she tried to focus on the conversation, to engage with the surrounding others.

Liam chatted with hosts and guests, making them laugh and relaxed. He possessed a social skill that surprised Nina. His eyes would light up when he spoke about his passions, which seemed to include everything from classical music to experimental film. Liam was a whirlwind. He captivated everyone, making them understand their importance and acknowledged their presence.

Rachel, however, was more reserved, but no less captivating. She listened more than she spoke, her eyes sharp and observant. When she spoke, her choice of words was meticulous, her voice a low, sultry purr. Her presence commanded attention, even when she wasn’t at its center.