The envelope was black as sin.
It arrived two days ago, slid under my apartment door without a knock or a courier's footsteps in the hall. No return address, no postage mark, nothing to explain how it knew exactly where I lived. I left it on the kitchen counter unopened, glaring at it while I ate cold ramen straight from the pot. By the third night I couldn't ignore it anymore. My pulse was already racing before I even touched it.
My hands shook as I slit the seal with a butter knife.
“Club Noir cordially invites you to the Annual Auction of Submission. January 15th. Mask required.”
I read it four times before the words actually sank in. Then I read it a fifth time, and a sixth, until the elegant script blurred. My stomach twisted so hard I had to sit down on the floor, back against th
