The bar was beautiful, dimly lit, with dark wood paneled walls, black lacquered tables, low music, and a hushed buzz of conversation.
The bartender nodded at me as I walked the length of the bar. His muscles rippled as he shook a chrome mixer of ice and some delicious cocktail.
I passed couples sitting close, whispering and smiling, a few kissing over their drinks. I passed it all though, going to the back of the place, then through French doors to a silent hallway, then down stairs to a metal door with a slit that slid open sharply as I approached.
Serious brown eyes met mine and studied me for a moment. I nodded at him and then pulled up my lapel to show my pin. His eyes fell to the gold bunch of grapes which held the letters O and D. He nodded again before the slit closed and the door opened.
A tall man in a black suit with a black shirt and a black tie led me into a parlor with identical furnishing as the bar. It even had the same music.
The difference was that along one wall were a row of nude legs and hips. Nine pairs of legs, attached to people who were bent over, with their heads and torsos swallowed up by some kind of enclosure in the wall, like medieval stocks but far more beautifully designed.
I had heard about this place many times, but had been hesitant to visit. The Order had many palaces of entertainment in the city, each unique and complicated. This was one of the most secret.