Absolute Silence

1 CAMILLA My fingers self-consciously tugged at the hem of my dress. I’d agonized for hours over what to wear. What exactly was appropriate attire at a s*x club? Showing up in a slutty dress seemed a bit cliché—I didn’t exactly need to advertise what I was after—but I didn’t want to be too casual. The Lion’s Den was the most exclusive club in New York. I’d done my research. It was a members-only, highly secretive club hosting ticketed events and nightly entertainment for those able to pay the hundreds of thousands to join. If I liked what I saw tonight, I would pay the hefty price and join the inner circle of its members. Wardrobe planning for such an occasion was challenging, to say the least. In the end, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with an LBD. The little black dress was a classic for a reason. My chosen LBD, however, was suddenly feeling microscopic. Maybe it was the subzero January temps, but I was starting to suspect my ass was hanging out the back. Did it matter? For all I knew, everyone stripped naked as soon as they walked in the place. My stomach dipped as though it contained a swerving bait ball of fish. This was either going to be the best day of my life or an unforgettable disaster—it could go either way. My guess was as good as anyone’s. I could have walked away, but the unknowns would have haunted me forever. Living a lie simply wasn’t an option. I’d agonized over my decision for months. Debated and analyzed. Waffled and wavered in an unending horror show of indecisiveness. That wasn’t like me. I was normally logical and grounded, making decisions with the cool detachment of a sharpshooter picking off a target. However, I eventually realized I had to take the risk if I ever wanted to move forward. I’d been staring at this fork in the road for long enough, attempting to divine where each path led, but the only way to know was to follow the bumpy, rocky trail to its end. Enough stalling. I took one last look at the austere façade housing the club that would change my life forever. I couldn’t fathom an outcome where my life wasn’t profoundly affected by what I’d find inside. Either I’d embark on a new form of self-expression and embrace my sexuality, or I’d discover that my intuition had been wrong, and I’d need to reassess what I was looking for in life. The innocuous three-story dark-stone building nestled discreetly in the middle of Manhattan was a compass that would illuminate the direction my life would take next. For some, it was just a club. For me, it was so much more. Even the golden lion emblazoned on the crest over the door eyed me in warning. Do not enter if you are not ready. Well, Mr. McJudgy Lionface, I’m ready. I took in a lungful of the crisp evening air and pulled open the heavy metal door. No pictures from within the club were posted online, so I’d had no idea what to expect. Opulence? Vulgarity? Would they utilize the sleek lines of contemporary décor to aid in sanitization? For the cost of membership, I expected exemplary hygiene regardless of the aesthetic design. The front entry encompassed a modest space that felt surprisingly comfortable. Soft lighting from a series of wall sconces gave a feeling of warmth. An elegant rug eased the harshness of the stately marble floors in a plush seating area across from a modest hostess station. Low ceilings crafted an intimate setting rife with understated elegance. A wave of reassurance helped calm my erratic heartbeat. A small part of me had worried I’d find one giant hedonistic orgy when I walked inside. I blamed television for my overactive imagination. This place was classy. Respectable. At least, that was my initial impression. I’d not seen the main club yet, but the reception area alone was enough to put me more at ease. I smiled at the woman rounding the desk to greet me. She wore a floorlength black gown with her hair expertly pinned atop her head, a gracious smile polishing the ensemble. “Welcome. You must be Camilla. I’m Beth. We spoke on the phone.” She shook my hand and led me to a leather armchair. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us this evening. If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll get Dante to show you around. He’s the owner and prefers to greet all new members personally. Would you like a water or champagne before I grab him?” “I’m fine, thank you.” Alcohol would only tighten the knot in my stomach. “I’ll only be a moment.” The kind older woman was even more elegant than I’d given her credit for over the phone. She’d helped me through the application process, which was more extensive than I’d expected. The onboarding process required health screenings and a mandatory nondisclosure agreement before I was allowed through the door. I had to agree to confidentiality before I was even given the address. The strict requirements were reassuring. Deciding to apply for membership had been risky, and I preferred that the other members were equally as vested in the sensitive nature of such a club. If my family ever found out … I couldn’t bear the thought. My devout Catholic mother, regardless of her own past indiscretions, would s**t herself. My strict mafia father would probably lock me away until I was fifty. And my sisters? I couldn’t even imagine what they’d think.Joining the club was something I was doing for myself. I wasn’t doing it with a partner or because some friend had urged me to give it a try. I didn’t know a single person inside those walls, and I preferred it that way. The Lion’s Den would be my dirty little secret, assuming I liked the place and finalized my membership after orientation. After signing on the dotted line, would I participate in the evening’s activities? Would I even want to be intimate when my nerves were a jumbled mess? I wasn’t sure about the protocol. They might require payment to have cleared in their bank before a new member was allowed to play.