Vice

by Nicole Marsh

  As pumped as I am for the event, I’m also at the point where I can’t wait for it to be over. Maybe then I can catch up on a bit of the sleep that I’ve missed during all the time I’ve spent prepping. This week has been fast-paced and Hectic with a capital H.

  Every staff member is required to work tonight, to manage the volume of attendees anticipated. We’ve also doubled down our security, bar tenders, and kitchen staff. Unlike a regular night in the club, every Escort is expected to be on the floor tonight from the time the doors open.

  We had a small staffing issue earlier in the week when four of our most senior bartenders all came down with some sort of flu virus. On top of everything else that need to be prepared for the event, I also had to find a few new staff members to fill the gaps. After hiring a few temporary bartenders, I had to rearrange my current staff to make sure all the newbies weren’t working in the same area.

  I was able to handle everything rather quickly, but interviewing more staff members wasn’t in my timeline so I ended up having to cut sleep to make sure the Club was ready, on schedule. Even after sacrificing sleep, I was still concerned that everything wasn’t going to come together by tonight. I’m grateful for all of the extra time that Katia put in at the Club with me this week, she saved me from a meltdown at least three times with her optimism and advice.

  I’d anticipated that every member would show up tonight, likely with a guest in tow, but I didn’t expect a line down the sidewalk outside the club. Majority of our Patrons enjoy the club, not only for the services offered, but also for our discretion and privacy. We’ve never before had Patrons queue outside of the door on the sidewalk.

  It’s possible that wearing masks is helping the Patrons to feel more lenient and free. Lending them a willingness to stand in a small queue outside the door, expecting not to be recognized. I take a bracing breath before unlocking the door to the foyer, wondering what other changes wearing masks will bring to the Patrons.

  After helping the girls at the front door check-in the line at the start of the night, I end up on drink running duty. Even with all of our Escorts working the floor, we are still slammed. I want to make sure to free up as many Escorts as possible to entertain the Patrons and their guests. The ambience in the club is boisterous, but with a hint of the sultry decadence built by the theme and masks.

  Everyone in attendance is dressed to impress, taking the idea of decadence into full consideration. I see dozens of men in full tuxedos, with their female companions in slinky, but decadent cocktail dresses. Walking between the tables I see some faces that I recognize, despite their masks. At other tables Patrons that have gone all out, virtually unrecognizable in incredibly elaborate masks. Unlike a usual night in the Club, Patrons have been walking between tables. Mingling and joining conversations with Patrons from outside their own group. The masks are releasing them of all their inhibitions.

  It’s truly an event that attendees will speak about for ages.

  Pausing my drink running duties I take a few minutes to watch the room. I’m pleased that all of our hard work has paid off. I watch as our guests interact, and see the line is growing for photos, it’s beginning to wrap along one of the walls of the Main Bar.

  As a part of the event, we’ve set up a photo booth for attendees to take photos. Typically we don’t allow many photos within the club, to protect the privacy of our Patrons. However, the event has changed the rules for photographs for a night. Per Katia’s suggestion, we’ve set up a backdrop with a rented camera set up. It allows guests to take photos and send them directly to their phones. It’s a relatively low cost way for attendees to create a memento that commemorates the event, their outfits, and the overall vibe of the night, without directly linking it to the Club.

  Eyeing the line, I see that it’s mostly women queued up to take photos. Photos are being taken of guests and Escorts in groups, wanting to show off their elegant masks and dresses. I don’t mind if the girls post photos on their social media, some Patrons actively take an interest in their lives and follow their accounts. The one stipulation for photos is that they can’t directly correlate to the Club or mention the Club. And no Patrons can be present in the background of any photo, without their express permission.

  As I stand near the bar taking in the room, a pair of arms suddenly wrap around me from behind. I can feel hands spreading across my lower belly and starting to wrap around my hips. When I turn my head to see who’s approached me, I can’t tell who it is. Either they’re not a Patron or the mask is doing an excellent job of hiding their identity.

  I won’t downplay my own merits, I can be quite an interesting companion but I won’t enter anything physical with a Patron. It’s not worth the potential drama or cost to Vice, if things ended poorly, or something went awry.

  I’m about to voice these thoughts to the Patron when a woman also in a mask comes up and starts whacking the man behind me with her small clutch. The man quickly lets go of my waist and takes a step back with both of his hands in the air.

  I glance around and catch the eye of a security guard standing between two of the drapes along the wall to my left. He hurries over and steps between the couple, grabbing the elbow of the woman before his body intercepts the next blow of her bag. He bends down and says something in her ear before he escorts her out the door towards the Foyer. The man follows behind them silently, with his head bent down, his night is likely ending sooner than he anticipated.

  I shake my head and let out a low chuckle. I’m thankful that the drama was short lived. The masks really are changing the normal vibe of the club. I decide that this is probably a sign that my break to survey the room is over and it’s time to go back to running drinks. I continue to walk around checking on tables, distributing drinks, shimmying through groups of people.

  As I walk past one of the tables, Sira reaches up and grabs my arm. “J! We need to get some photos with you!”

  Her entire table cheers, Patrons and Escorts alike. I smile and giggle at their enthusiasm. “Okay, let’s get in line.”

  The girls and I join the line, with the entire table of Patrons in tow. We laugh as they joke around and tell us stories from a recent business trip they took together. Everyone seems to be having a great time except for one gentleman in a gray mask. He looks like he wishes he were anywhere else but the Club. You can’t please everyone I guess.

  Our group finally makes it to the front of the line and we let Sira coordinate our photos. We have a few that are Escorts sitting on Patron’s laps or being dipped into deep kisses. A couple that are all of the Patrons together alone, and then Sira kicks them all out of the frame to get a few girls only pictures. The girls have me laughing with their antics, we take at least fifteen photos, including one of us all trying to jump. I’m excited to see how they turn out later, after the girls post them.

  After I finish with the girls at the photo booth, I head back to the bar, refilling my tray with various bottles of champagne and glasses. Before I can head back out to the tables, another Escort approaches me at the bar. “Richardson just arrived and he’s looking for Katia… No one can find her though. We haven’t seen her for at least an hour.”

  Her words set my heart racing. It’s abnormal for Katia to disappear or not be available for one of the Patrons that have chosen her as their favorite Escort. Not all of the girls that work at my bar as an Escort have had the best lives before coming to Vice, much like Katia and myself. I try to foster a family environment rather than a place of employment, where we all look out for each other and help each other when we can. I’m trying not to get myself worked up with worry over Katia’s disappearance, but any of my girls being unaccounted for is not something that I take lightly. Especially tonight, with all the changes in Patron behavior.

  “Where was she seen last?” I ask. Trying to appear relaxed and not as concerned about Katia’s whereabouts as I actually am.

  One of the other Escorts, that just walked up to the bar, chimes in, “I saw Katia whe
n was in the Viewing Room, about twenty minutes ago.”

  I leave my tray for the bartender to continue loading and ask one of the Escorts nearby if she can visit the few tables I was servicing. Noting for her the ones needing the additional libations being added to my tray. After she agrees, I quickly strut towards the viewing room.

  I round the last corner in the Club at a brisk pace and enter the Viewing Room. I breathe a small sigh of relief upon entering the room, Katia’s lithe, long limbed form adorned in her garnet colored dress is immediately visible on the stage.

  Katia turns my way and lets out a happy exclamation I can hear from across the room. She then announces, “The fabulous Miss Stone has arrived,” She pauses for a few scattered claps from the Patrons. “Tonight is a special night, not only is it the One Year Anniversary of this fabulous Club,” Another pause for cheers, Katia is great at working a crowd and building anticipation. “We are also about to be graced with a dance from Vice’s owner herself.” She pauses again to allow for a few claps and cheers, “Better grab your seat boys, you won’t want to miss this.”

  After her announcement, I know that I’ve been set up. “Missing Katia” was a ruse set up by Katia herself to get me into the Viewing Room and up on stage. Many of the Patrons in the room turn their heads after Katia’s announcement to look at me standing in the entrance of the room. A few cheer their encouragement for me to join Katia on stage.

  Due to the success of the club and the number of Escorts on staff, it is rare that I perform anymore. I prefer to leave the stage to the Escorts that are hungrier for the tips they can earn by dancing. However, some of our Patrons know me from my previous bars, where I used to work and perform, in many ways.

  I paste a smile on my face and give a small princess wave as I trot up the steps to another round of cheers, joining Katia on stage. I turn to her and whisper under my breath, “You’re so dead”. Then address our audience, beaming. “Katia has underplayed what we’ve arranged for you tonight.” I pause to add anticipation, I can work the crowd just as well as Katia. “We’ll be dancing together for you tonight.”

  I shoot a wink to Katia, as the beginning sultry beats of “Bad Guy” by Billie Eillish start to pump out of the speakers and float into the room. She doesn’t appear to be surprised, I’m sure she was expecting my announcement. Anticipating that after she set me up and called me out to dance on stage, she would have to dance with me.

  Facing the couches in front of the stage, I take a few steps backwards on the platform until the center pole hits the middle of my back. I throw my hands up in the air, wrap them around the pole, and slowly dip down, spreading my legs and letting my dress slide up my thighs. I swivel my hips a few times and slowly ascend the pole. I repeat the move again, looking to my left during my ascent, I see Katia on the pole further back working her stuff.

  I throw in a few more shimmies and dips, but I know soon it’ll be time to get a bit more serious to keep the audience entertained. I reach to my side, making seductive eye contact with the attractive, younger gentleman in front of me, slowly lowering the zipper of my dress while swaying side to side with the beat. Just as the bass picks up, I shrug my shoulders, letting the straps of my dress fall down to the sides of my arms. A few strategic moves later and my shimmery, gold, silk sheath dress slips down, landing in a puddle upon the floor at my feet.

  Without my dress, I stand on stage in my lacy gold strapless bra with a matching g-string, and a pair of five-inch heels. My gold mask making me feel bold, my hair flowing down my back in loose curls making me feel sultry. I survey the audience with a seductive look, to see how engaged the audience appears.

  I turn back towards the pole, placing my hands forward and bending over, keeping my legs straight. The move earns a few whistles of appreciation from the crowd. After a few more moves, I strut over to Katia, who’s also lost her dress to the dance. Together we tease our Patrons with a few images of what it would look like if my dark features joined with Katia’s light. We dance in sync, lightly touching, and sharing the pole for a bit. She starts to pull down on of the cups of my bra, teasing the crowd with a glimpse of my nipples. The song ends and she fixes my bra back into place, while a few groans ring out in the crowd.

  I give Katia a chaste peck on the cheek. She walks over to my dress and picks it off the floor holding it low for me to step into. I place one foot after the other into the dress and allow her to slide it up my body. She places the straps over my arms slides the zipper back up.

  I give Katia another chaste kiss, this time on her lips, using the back of my hand to caress her cheek at the same time. The men in the room cheer and holler, asking for an encore.

  I lean forward near her ear and whisper the reason I was sent here in the first place, confident it was part of the original ruse, but following our dance is probably the truth. “Richardson is likely looking for you now.” I then smile at our audience and strut off the stage to another round of disappointed groans from our Patrons.

  The club is starting to wind down. The Masquerade has been a huge success over the past five hours. Patrons have approached me throughout the night before trickling out, expressing their gratitude and conveying how enjoyable they found the night.

  I’m once again standing at the Main Bar, waiting for the bartender to finish loading my tray up before I head out to the tables. Once he’s finished I check everything over, then head out to the couches to chat with our Patrons and drop off their drinks. In about twenty minutes, I finish my tray. I’m about to restart the cycle, waiting at the bar again, when a blood curdling scream carries across the club from the Backrooms.

  I drop my empty tray heavily onto the bar and start towards the source of the scream, rushing with urgency while trying to maintain a calm face. I snag four security guards along my way to escort me to the back.

  When I pass the entrance for the bottom floor, I nod to the two security guards standing outside the door. Both guards step inside the door and bar it from the inside. As we continue walking by, one of my entourage of security guards breaks away from the group and pulls the heavy purple drapery into place over the door, effectively hiding the entrance.

  The Bottom floor is secured with an additional check-in process that logs when Patrons come and go. The floor has additional security measures to protect the identities of the Patrons and the activities that they partake in. There’s no possible way someone slipped out and wandered back in after causing trouble, they’d still be in the check-in process at the time of the scream. As part of the additional security, and to protect the club and the Patron’s identities, the Bottom floor is hidden and put into a “safe mode” if there’s an incident within the club. No one is allowed in or out until the situation is handled. There’s enough supplies in the Bottom floor to last a few days of a lockdown if necessary, although hopefully that’s never necessary.

  My entourage of security and I continue through the Gambling Room where a small crowd has gathered near the door leading to the back hallway. We push through the crowd and spot three security guards standing with a sobbing Escort, partially down the hall near the Escort’s dressing room.

  In the center of the guards, I spot pale skin and long dark hair like my own, pulled into a ponytail, meaning the escort is likely Sira. I rush towards the group, pushing past the guards with me to find out what’s happening. As I near, I confirm it is Sira standing within the guards. She has her hands over her face to hide tears from the Patrons. I pull up short from reaching the group standing in the hall when I spot something behind them.

  A body is sprawled face down on the ground in front of the dressing room in a pool of blood. The shimmer of a gold, silk dress, not too different from my own, is what caught my eye. A short distance away something else is laying on the ground. It looks like a matted black wig laying on the floor.

  Shocked, I take a few stumbling steps forward and look up at the security guards surrounding Sira, “What happened?”

  Chapter 4


  Alex

  The last thing I expected from today’s shift was to end up as a pseudo body guard for a sexy dark-haired woman that manages a strip club. I replay the events of the last twenty-four hours, while I walk out of my Chief’s office at the precinct.

  Late last night we received a call from the Commissioner. He stated he was at a fundraising masquerade event and an incident occurred. He needed a “discrete” group of officers to show up and investigate. My partner Cooper and I showed up in an unmarked sedan, sans lights, and met two other officers, Smith and Steele, arriving at the scene at the same time.

  We arrive at the address provided by the Commissioner and enter the building. Once inside, the reason for “discrete” becomes abundantly clear. The venue appears to be a Club and is littered with inebriated men and women. The men are dressed well in tuxes, but the women in attendance are scantily clad. Everyone present is wearing a mask. We are guided through the building by a small woman with long black hair and a gold shimmery dress. She introduces herself as the “Jenna Stone”, the owner of the Club.

  Cooper, Smith, Steele, and I take in the scene, walking behind Jenna, listening to her as she explains one of “her girls” found the body, but no one has admitted to seeing anything prior. No one knows how long the body had been there, prior to discovery. Jenna continues recapping the situation, stating to her knowledge no one had touched the body or anything nearby.

  Cooper and I exchange a look. Over the phone the Commissioner stated an incident had occurred, not a dead body appeared. We need to call in a forensics team and start interviewing everyone in the Club to start the investigation.

  Jenna halts suddenly partially down a hallway. I also have to stop short to avoid running into her and knocking her over. Further down the hall a body is laying on the ground in a puddle of blood. Definitely dead, judging by the amount of blood.