Club Paradiso

“Thank you, Mister Webster.” “Call me Nick.” Nick reached across the desk and shook Mr. Edmund Hawthorne’s hand, noting it was a firm, manly handshake and one that had, no doubt, closed many deals over the years. “I’ll have my secretary email you the completed copies once I’ve finished with them. Now I have all the information I need, it won’t take me long to draw up the papers.” Nick got up from his chair and buttoned his suit jacket. “Ah, before you go Mr…Nick, I didn’t notice a wedding band.” Nick hoisted his briefcase off the chair next to him. “No.” He felt a slight frown materialise. “Why do you ask?” Hawthorne, dressed in Armani from his tanned neck to his Gucci shoes, walked to the other side of the desk, holding something in his hand. “I want you to take this. I think you might find it…amusing.” He passed Nick a small white card, embossed in silver lettering. “I must ask you not to disclose any information contained on the card to anyone, nor any details of the venue itself.” His curiosity more than piqued, Nick looked first at Hawthorne, then at the card. CLUB PARADISO The Old Port Warehouses Chessingham Lane “I don’t understand,” said Nick as he was escorted to the door of the impeccably decorated office. “It’s a gentleman’s club,” explained Hawthorne, placing his hand in the small of Nick’s back. “Of sorts. Very exclusive and therefore requiring the utmost discretion. I have a feeling you’ll fit in rather well.” “I’m still not sure I understand,” said Nick, glancing once again at the card as if it would reveal more information a second time. Hawthorne smiled, and there was a glint in his eyes. “Go to that address this coming Friday. Be there promptly at eight. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Lie if necessary.” “It doesn’t sound…” Hawthorne gently guided Nick through the door and into the reception area. “I’ll be expecting you.” The door closed. Nick stared ahead at an invisible point on the wall, trying to get his mind around what had just taken place. Was attending the “venue” to be part of the business deal? Would the agreement they’d reached depend upon his attendance? And what if he refused to go? Would that mean the months of research, planning, and negotiations had been wasted? He was suddenly quite annoyed he’d been put in such a position. He had half a mind to turn around, march back into the office and— “Will that be all, Mr. Webster?” asked the well-groomed, middle-aged receptionist. Nick glanced back at the closed office door. “I think so. Yes.” “Let me get the lift for you, then,” she said, emerging from behind her desk. “Thank you,” Nick mumbled. The receptionist pressed the button, smiled warmly, then returned to her seat. When the metal doors slid open, Nick stepped into the lift and, after they had closed, he looked at the card he realised he was still holding. The elevator light caught something he’d previously missed. As he examined the card more closely, he realised he could see a tiny figure pressed into the card beneath the address. The figure of a naked male torso. * * * * Friday had been a killer day. One thing after another had gone wrong. It seemed there was only one solution. The gym. It was on the way home and the perfect antidote for a shitty day. He could work out his aggression with the weights. En route to the showers, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He smiled. At least he had one thing going for him. Thanks to genetics, his blue-eyed, dark-haired Irish good looks would never let him down. The gym had been responsible for the rest. His tanned, toned body had almost zero body fat, but it came at a price. He’d had to give up everything he enjoyed eating—burgers, pizza, anything with sugar, anything with fat—in order to maintain the kind of body that would make a model green with envy. It was hard work, constant and often punishing, but he thrived on all that. It had got him to where he was today—a nominee for partner at one of the most prestigious marketing firms in the city. After showering and changing, Nick collected his briefcase and headed to the car park. It had been raining and the small puddles of water caught the electric lights of the city, creating a fantasy montage of ghostly hues. People were hurrying along the streets with bags of groceries, or briefcases, or cheap fabric bags from chain stores, designed to stop the scourge of plastic that was currently menacing the planet. Everyone was eager to be somewhere else. As he got into his car, Nick’s mind turned to dinner. He did a mental checklist of the contents of his refrigerator and didn’t like what he found. Perhaps a quick visit to Vegie Mama, a restaurant that specialised in plate-lickingly delicious vegan food. He opened his briefcase and located his wallet. Twenty bucks. That would be enough. He wasn’t all that hungry. He tossed the wallet back in amongst the papers and folders, then noticed the embossed card Hawthorne had given him three days earlier. Chessingham Lane. Not too far from here. His heartbeat quickened at the fleeting thought he might pay Club Paradiso a visit. He brought a finger to his mouth, but managed to stop himself before he bit down on the nail and ruined his manicurist’s hard work. A gentleman’s club, he remembered Hawthorne saying. Nick turned the key in the ignition, and before he could talk himself out of it, he drove to Chessingham Lane. He wasn’t a big fan of gentleman’s clubs. The only one he’d ever been to had been full of over-stuffed suits with thinning hair and thinner personalities, throwing back malt whiskeys and smoking cigars that could barely fit into their tight little mouths. But there had been something about Hawthorne that gave Nick the impression this club would be nothing like that. The old warehouse was a nondescript monstrosity that had definitely seen better days. Graffiti decorated the outside and weeds struggled up from the gaps between the footpath and the edge of the building. The blue paint on the large wooden door was chipped and peeling, and several panes of glass in the windows high up in the walls were missing or broken. Nick knocked on the door, waited, and slowly it opened. “Yeah,” asked a thickset man with a strong jaw and emerald green eyes. “Club Paradiso?” Nick asked, holding up the card Hawthorne had given him. A nod of the head from the thickset man obviously meant he’d found the right place. “Name?” asked the man, whose tone immediately alerted Nick to the fact this was a person who took his job seriously. “Nicholas Webster.” The man punched a couple of keys on his palmtop before opening the door. The bouncer nodded to the left. “Through that door.” Nick presented him with a weak smile, then hurried into the building. He looked in the direction the bouncer had indicated and saw a black door, which glistened as he pushed it open. Freshly painted, he thought as he caught a whiff of paint. Behind the door was a spacious area, carpeted in deep red with red flocked wallpaper. A counter split the room in half, and behind it lay a large space filled with racks containing long, clear plastic bags, some of which contained clothing. “Over here,” called a thin, effete male. “New, are we?” Nick had almost missed the angelic-faced young man sitting in the corner by the telephone on the wall. Although upon reflection, it seemed impossible anyone could overlook such a pale creature, wearing full make-up and not much else. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he said, approaching the counter. “Yes, I’m easy to miss,” said the young man with a hint of sarcasm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Nick wondered if it was too late to bolt for the door. “Never mind. I don’t blame you for being nervous. No one knows what to expect the first time they come here. Then they can’t wait to come back. You’ll be no different.” He thrust out a slender arm. “I’m Toby.” “Hello, Toby.” He shook the young man’s hand. “I’m Nick. I hope you’re right. I really am as nervous as hell.” Toby smiled and waved away his doubts. “Don’t be silly. Nothing to be afraid of here. Now, take off your clothes.” For a split second, Nick had felt relieved. He’d even been about to smile and was, therefore, unsure he’d heard Toby correctly. “I’m sorry. What was that? Did you say—” “Strip? Yes, I did. I’ll take your clothes, assign you a number, and you can pick them up when you’ve finished. You’d better be smart about it, too, because I think they’re about ready to go in.” Nick’s head was spinning. They? Ready to go in? Go in where? “Um. You want me to strip—” he lowered his voice “—out here? You want me to strip out here?” Toby nodded, his expression telling Nick he was in no way joking. “‘Modesty’ is a dirty word at Paradiso. Since I started, I’ve seen more goddamned c**k than a chicken farmer. So get your gear off and stop being so precious.” Toby turned and took one of the empty clothes bags off the rack. “Come on!” he said, glancing over his shoulder, his tone adopting a note of impatience. “Where do I put—” “On the counter.” Nick removed his tie and shirt and laid them on the counter. He then removed his shoes and socks, stuffing a sock into each shoe before placing them neatly beside his other clothing. After a deep breath, he undid his belt and removed his trousers and underpants in one fell swoop and likewise deposited them on the counter. “Your watch,” said Toby, who had returned to the counter with the empty clothes bag. “My watch?” “Yes. And any other jewellery. And don’t worry, I’ll guard it with my life.” He reluctantly handed Toby his watch and the young man nodded towards a pair of red doors with gold handles behind him. “Through there,” he said, thrusting his thumb towards the doors. “Though I think you’ve missed cocktails. And your number is eighty-three. Don’t forget it or you might not get your gear back.” Nick thanked Toby and walked towards the doors, feeling vulnerable and exposed. As his hand touched the gilded handle, he sucked in a deep breath. “Here we go,” he mumbled. He pushed the door open and was greeted immediately by another blaze of red—plush red carpet and flocked red wallpaper—along with a mass of naked male flesh. At the back of the room, past the dozens of very good-looking, gym-fit men, he spied a bar, painted black and decorated with mirrors. Behind it, a vision of perfect manhood mixed drinks, the muscles in his arms making his tattoo dance as he shook the hell out of a silver cocktail shaker. Nick slipped into the room and let the door close behind him. Every eye acknowledged him, but only a few lingered to give him the once-over. A smile flickered on his lips as his hands dropped to cover his c**k and balls, but when he saw how comfortable everyone else was in their naked state, a handful even sporting erections, he was able to relax a little. “Glad you could make it.” The voice was Edmund Hawthorne’s and Nick was glad to hear it. Naked, Edmund looked younger than his fifty-four years. His tanned, toned torso and muscular thighs were gym-honed to perfection and his c**k, which was thick and uncut, hung from a neatly manicured pubic bush. “I guess I did make it,” Nick replied, forcing his lips into a weak smile. “Come,” Edmund said as his hand came to rest in the small of Nick’s back, as it had that day in the office. “I’ll introduce you around. I know what it’s like to be the new guy.” The names seemed to go in one ear and come out the other. So many perfect smiles, hot bodies, and beautiful c***s. It soon got confusing. But all the while his eyes were on the man behind the bar. If ever a wet dream had come to life, then the man pouring drinks was it. From his position at the side of the bar, Nick could see behind it and was able to drink in the vision more fully. With a square jaw, a perfect smile, and eyes that seemed to sparkle, the bartender could have been a model—and probably was, for all Nick knew. He had shaved his head, but sported a trimmed moustache and goatee, dark with perhaps a few flecks of grey. His body was a solid wall of muscle. His torso had a light covering of dark hair, which thickened into a line that led to a wild tangle of black pubic hair. Jutting, semi-erect from his bush, was a thick, veiny c**k whose head was only just covered by foreskin. Beneath his impressive organ was an equally impressive set of low-hanging balls, which Nick noticed swung every time he moved. “That’s Bruno,” said Edmund. “He’s a particularly fine specimen of a man, isn’t he? I’ll introduce you if you like.” Nick baulked at the idea. “No,” he snapped, then more calmly, “Could I get a drink, though?” Edmund laughed. “Course you can. It’s an open bar. Have whatever you like, but we’re nearly ready to go in. Perhaps I can introduce you to Bruno later.” As they walked up to the bar, Nick asked Edmund what he’d meant by ‘go in’. “I thought this was the club.” “No, no, no,” said Edmund, grinning. “This is merely the reception area. This is where we assemble and catch up with each other. ‘Get into the mood,’ as they say. Those doors over there lead into the club proper, and once they’ve been opened, the doors you just came through are locked—for the first hour, at least. That’s why it’s important to be prompt.” “Bourbon and Coke,” Nick said as the handsome bartender approached him. He smiled his broadest smile and was momentarily rendered speechless since the man was even more perfect up close. Realising he was staring, he forced himself to refocus. “But, er, who pays for all this? The alcohol, the decor? The upkeep alone must be phenomenal.” “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Edmund said. “But you’re about to.” Nick thanked the bartender and took a great gulp of his drink. The men were beginning to inch towards the large double doors and the myriad conversations died down to a low murmur. “Come with me,” said Edmund. “It’s time to go in.” Nick shadowed Edmund as he wove his way through the throng of men towards the doors, above which hung a sign that read, EDEN. Edmund pushed the doors open. “Eden awaits!” he shouted. The doors swung open in one smooth movement to reveal a sight that took Nick’s breath away. “How is this possible?” he gasped. Before him lay an enormous swimming pool made to resemble a lake and fed by an equally impressive waterfall at the far end. Surrounding the lake were tall palm trees, ferns and flowering hibiscus trees, which gave the space a tropical feel. A brightly coloured parrot, surprised by the sudden infusion of naked men, flew squawking from a tree by the door to one further away, drawing Nick’s eyes upwards to a ceiling that was slightly domed and composed entirely of panes of frosted glass; though as it was dark outside, Eden was illuminated not by the sun, but by electric light. As Nick walked further into the cavernous space, he noticed banks of cushions and elaborately carved, wooden daybeds hidden behind thickets of vegetation. There were also bamboo huts with thatched rooves dotted throughout the complex to add to the fantasy that he had somehow been transported to a beautiful tropical island. “Go and explore,” said Edmund. “Enjoy my Eden!” Nick thanked the man and meandered down to the swimming pool lake, which was surrounded by lush, green grass that was soft underfoot. He stepped into the water and found it was cool without being cold. Two men, who’d been kissing, looked at him and smiled. Their gaze made him feel uncomfortable. It was both welcoming and lascivious in equal measure. He returned to the grass and began to walk a circuit around the swimming pool lake, where other couples and trios cavorted, engaging in all manner of s****l activity, most of which remained hidden beneath the surface of the water. It was exciting; there could be no denying that. His erection was standing up tall and proud against his neatly clipped pubic bush. And while it was tempting to join in, he decided he wanted to explore a little more before recklessly indulging. Moans of pleasure and whispered commands filled the air, and it seemed no place was free of the s****l energy that charged the atmosphere. He gave his c**k a couple of tugs and turned to face the bushes, wondering what delights the leafy fronds hid. Near the back of the cavernous hall, he watched a man being led up the rocks, which, he later discovered, formed rudimentary steps. As the man disappeared behind the waterfall, he glanced back. His expression, troubling. It boggled Nick’s mind as to what could possibly take place behind the rush of cascading water. And seeing as how there was only one way to find out, he marched purposefully to the base of the rocks. As he lifted a foot to begin ascending the small pile of granite, a naked man, beefy and hairy, and wearing a black armband, appeared. “No entry, mate.” He wore a stern expression that defied anyone to disobey him. “But I saw someone—” “Must’ve been mistaken,” said the man, spreading his legs a little as if to anchor himself to the spot. “It’s off limits.” Nick tried to peer around the man, tried to catch a glimpse of what lay behind the waterfall, but the man was so bulky and the gap between the wall and the water so narrow that all he could see was a dark space. Frustrated, he frowned and returned the way he’d come, glancing over his shoulder to find the man watching him. It annoyed him that he’d been lied to. Not only that, but the lie had created in him a burning desire to know what lay unseen in the darkness. It was probably nothing of any consequence, and had he seen whatever it was, he might have only been a little impressed, but the fact he could not enter meant all he wanted to do now was exactly that—enter. And one way or another, he would. His mind was soon taken off the waterfall incident by a group of five men, each buried to the balls in the man in front. They lay like co-joined quintuplets, each man moving just enough to pleasure the man in front of him without the c**k of the man behind him slipping out. And while the man at the front of the group m*********d, the man at the back, pleasured his own arsehole with two of his fingers. Nick’s hand automatically went to his erection, which he noted was now leaking pre-c*m. He gave his c**k a couple of strokes, then stopped. He was not yet comfortable enough to publicly masturbate, let alone do what these five men were doing. In an attempt to take a break from the overload of sensory stimuli surrounding him, he pushed his way through a pair of lush ferns to find a small clearing where a muscular man sat, his head back, and his attention on the ceiling. After glancing up and finding nothing of any interest, Nick realised it was the man from the bar. “Brutus?” he said. He had the man’s attention. “Bruno.” Nick swallowed hard. “Sorry. I’m new. It’s all a bit overwhelming.” Bruno nodded. “You look like you’ve found a nice, quiet spot,” said Nick, trying not to sound intimidated by the man’s otherworldly beauty. “It’s not really my scene,” he said coolly. “I get paid to be here. That’s all.” “Look but not touch, hey?” Nick laughed. A small crease appeared between Bruno’s brows. “Something like that,” he said, getting up from the seat. “Wait,” said Nick, holding out a hand. “Look, I’m sorry. I really just want to talk if that’s all right.” Bruno looked him up and down, and gave a half-nod. “Okay,” he said, sitting back down. “Let’s talk.” Nick groaned inwardly. What the hell am I going to talk about? “How long have you worked here?” He took a seat beside Bruno. “Three years.” Nick nodded. “Never been interested in…partaking?” Bruno shrugged. “I did a bit at the beginning. I find it all a bit soul-destroying. Same dudes come every Friday, sow their oats far and wide, but never develop any real relationships. Sad, really.” With that one statement, Bruno had captured Nick’s interest. It often took months to get to the core of a person, but with those few words, Nick had the feeling he had reached the true essence of the man who served drinks to the orgy of lost souls surrounding him. “Anyway,” said Bruno. “Why aren’t you…partaking? You’re new? Most newbies flutter from c**k to c**k to arse like manic bees in a field of poppies.” Nick chuckled. “I really only came to have a look. I didn’t know what to expect.” “And you’re disappointed?” “I’m…I don’t actually know what I am. Glad I found someone to talk to, though.” Bruno laughed, his full lips stretching apart to reveal perfect teeth. “If talking’s what you’re after, you’re in the minority.” Nick nodded, then c****d his head. “I suppose I am.” Bruno grabbed Nick’s thigh and squeezed. “Perhaps I could persuade you to do more than talk?” Nick’s c**k, which had grown flaccid, sprang to life. It was going to be difficult to lie convincingly with a massive erection jutting up from between his legs. “I think you’ve already persua—” Before he could finish his sentence, Bruno’s lips were upon his. They tasted sweet, like wine. No, more like liqueur. And they were soft. His moustache lightly scratched the skin of Nick’s upper lip, but it was a pleasurable sensation. They kissed hungrily, their tongues sliding one over the other, their hot breath mingling. Breathing each other in. Nick was tingling all over. At one point, Bruno’s thick forearm brushed against his erect n****e, and Nick shuddered. A small moan escaped his throat, the sound seeming to urge Bruno on. Soon Nick was leaning back against the arm of the seat with Bruno’s large, muscular body bearing down on him, swamping him and making him feel totally under the man’s control. It was a new and exciting experience. “You’re a good kisser,” said Bruno. Nick gladly accepted the compliment. If anyone should know, it would be Bruno. Who knew how many mouths his luxurious lips had connected with? He went to respond but Bruno’s mouth was once more on his, hungrily devouring him. Bruno’s arms enfolded him and Nick felt himself slowly slipping towards the soft grass underneath. He landed not with a sharp thud, but delicately as Bruno’s arms gently lowered him down. Bruno’s bulk was pressing against him. Somehow Bruno had managed to manoeuvre himself between Nick’s legs, and he was grinding his thick uncut c**k against Nick’s groin. Nick spread his legs wider, inviting Bruno to enter him. But Bruno didn’t even attempt to. Instead, he kept rocking his hips against Nick, his lubrication being smeared over Nick’s arsehole and his belly massaging Nick’s rigid c**k. Nick’s hands gripped Bruno’s muscular back, pulling him closer. More than anything, he wanted to feel Bruno inside him. In business, he was the aggressor, the dominant, high-achiever, but here amongst the ferns and palms of Eden, he thrilled at not being in control and found himself craving domination. And as he thought about it, focused on the sensation of being the passive one, on Bruno’s bulky mass grinding against him, he climaxed. “You c*m?” Nick closed his eyes and nodded, and felt Bruno’s weight lift from him. “How do you feel?” Nick opened his eyes and turned to face Bruno, lying beside him. “I feel blessed to have met you.” Bruno laughed. “It was that good?” Nick nodded again. “I needed that. I needed you.” Bruno kissed him quickly on the lips. “I needed it, too.” They lay together, Nick bathed in the afterglow of their encounter, and in his thoughts of Bruno on top of him. The weight of his body. The smell of him. The feel of him. His iron-hard muscles. His soft lips. And his gentleness, his tenderness. He revelled in the feelings they produced because he wanted to ensure he remembered this moment for a long time afterwards. Nick exhaled, and smiled. “I feel incredible. Thank you.” “We should do it again.” Nick was taken aback. The hottest guy in the club, a man who had his pick of probably a hundred men, wanted to see him again. Little fireworks went off inside his chest. “I’d like that,” he replied. Bruno kissed him once more, then stood. “Don’t leave it too long,” he said before disappearing through the ferns and palms. Nick lay staring at the ceiling. He was floating on a cloud and wanted to enjoy the sensation a while longer, before he got up. When he closed his eyes, he thought he could feel his body radiating a warm glow. His soul was at peace and his mind, calm. He was interrupted by two men bursting through the foliage, their hard c***s slapping against their thighs as they ran. “Sorry,” said one as they disappeared on the other side of the clearing. Nick got to his feet, yawned and stretched, and realised he needed the toilet. Locating one was easy. The huts where they were housed were easy to see as their thatched rooves peeked over the tops of the ferns and hibiscus trees. And there was one only a few metres away. The interior was dimly lit. There were other men inside, and as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he noticed dark figures engaged in all manner of s****l activity. He stepped up to the urinal and relived himself, feeling someone reach around and grab his c**k. He gently pushed the hand away. He was ready to go home.