The girl in the beret came to the speakeasy on Mondays and Wednesdays, the quiet days. The somewhat secret bar was at the end of an anonymous alley on the Lower East Side street. Its plain metal door had no markings. You had to know someone to find out about it and they staff seemed to have a knack for keeping the place off the internet. It attracted an unusual mix of cocktail connoisseurs, trendsetters, artists, muses, and those like the girl in the beret who simply liked to people watch.
The girl’s name was Marie, and she didn’t talk much. She usually got one of the fancier cocktails the bartender, who went by the nickname “Arms,” recommended and sat at the end of the bar, reading a book or writing in her little notebook about the characters who came and went.
That evening, like most, she wore tight, high-waisted black jeans; an expensive-looking black and white striped shirt; ballet flats; and the aforementioned black beret. The arch of her eyebrows, the sharp point of her eyeliner, and her overall body language were meant to approximate pictures she had collected of Audry Hepburn. Marie’s mother would disown her if she ever got a pixie cut, though, so her hair was a bit more like Amélie.
There was a code of conduct at the speakeasy that made it very attractive to someone like Marie. The bar rules were that you couldn’t just come up and talk to someone you didn’t know; instead, if you wanted to say hello, you asked the bartender to introduce you. This invitation for an introduction could be accepted or denied by the other party. Marie had seen the man at the other end of the bar many times, and although he looked like he might call for an introduction, he never did… until that night.
He was good-looking, with a certain disheveled charm in his corduroy blazer with leather elbow patches. A periwinkle silk pocket square hinted that there might be something of a dandy in him, as did his stylish oxblood brogues. He looked like someone in their late twenties trying to dress the part of a college professor. Marie would have been more inclined to take an invitation from the college professor he was trying to be, even though she was twenty-five and flirting with a master’s degree.
When the bartender laid the folded napkin in front of her, Marie was admittedly curious. “The gentleman at the end of the bar asked me to give you this note. Would you like to accept it?” Arms asked.
She took a deep breath and took the napkin, despite her better judgment.
“You come here all the time, like me,” the note read. “Are you as curious as I am about what goes on at those ‘Members Only’ nights?”
It was signed, “James.”
She read the letter over a few times and then put it in her notebook for safekeeping.
She wondered if it was some kind of come-on. Indeed, she was curious; she had heard things from some of the members, when they were at the bar, about that Saturday and all the things they were planning; nothing specific, nothing incriminating, but it was apparent that it was something.
She wondered if she should just get back to her book and ignore this James person. She thought it was best to ignore him. Yet she looked up and met his eager eyes across the bar and motioned for him to come over.
He brought over his beer and sat down next to her. Arms watched them out of the corner of his eye while he dried a glass.
“What have you heard? I’ve gotten a few little tidbits over the few months I’ve been coming here,” James said in a conspiratorial whisper.
She put her book away and straightened. “I’m Marie,” she said, offering him her hand.
He looked down, a bit bashful, and shook her hand. “James, of course. Sorry. I’ve been a bit obsessed over the last few days.”
She nodded and sipped her drink. “Well, it’s obviously some kind of sex club,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
He nodded. “I’ve heard all kinds of things happen here. Sex, sure, but kinky stuff, too. Like leather and whips and all of that. Dominatrixes. All kinds of stuff. Especially on those special Saturday night parties,” he said, sipping his beer.
She rolled her eyes a bit. She had guessed it was something like that, but the way he spoke about it made it sound pedestrian. “Dominatrices,” she said simply.
“Pardon?”
“The plural of dominatrix is dominatrices. Like index and indices,” she explained.
His mouth opened and then closed dumbly. “Oh.”
“There are other clubs like that around town,” Marie went on. “I’ve read about them. From what I’ve gathered, though, the difference with the speakeasy is how it is all curated. Each member is vetted, and from those members, each guest is handpicked for each party.”
James mulled that over. “So, how do you become a member? It was hard enough just to figure out how you get into the bar to get a drink,” he asked with a wrinkled brow.
They both sighed. “I enjoy coming here,” Marie said. “There is a sense of being in a secret place. Even if all I do is people watch and sip absinthe-rinsed cocktails and write in my notebook.” She finished her drink and nodded to the bartender for another. “If you want to go to a sex club, then why not just go to a sex club?”
He finished his beer and nodded for another as well. “Well, I have. I was curious and sought one out, and what I found was a lot of leather and posturing, horrible music, a dingy dungeon full of people I wasn’t interested in, and a culture of abuse, infighting, and drama.”
She thought about that as Arms set down another drink for her. “Another Corpse Reviver Number Two and another IPA,” he said dutifully.
“So you want a sex party,” Marie continued, “but you want one with a live jazz band, better-dressed people, in a beautifully decorated space, with the mysterious Mr. Lee making sure everyone there is cool?”
James looked at his beer and thought about that. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess, yes. That’s pretty much exactly what I want.”
They both sat, thinking and smiling.
“Would you want to be a member? What would you want?” he asked.
“I would. I’m not sure if I would participate, but it certainly would be interesting to watch. I’m sure my little notebook would get a workout.”
James eyed her incredulously. “You’d go to a kinky sex party and sit in the corner and write in your notebook?” he asked.
She nodded. “From what I imagine, it might be one of the few sex parties where that would not be frowned upon. Who knows? I might even get the attention of some professor type. Certain men like the mousy innocent girl with the notebook. He might even seduce me into some debauchery,” she said, pleased at the shock in James’s eyes.
“Debauchery, hm? It’s the innocent types who always have secrets. One might wonder why a girl like you knows the ‘proper’ pluralization of dominatrix.”
“Some secrets are between a girl and her notebook,” she said with a grin.
Just then, the band ended a song, and the singer made an announcement.
“I’m afraid the last call is coming early tonight. We will be closing after this round for a special event. Members only, I’m afraid. Have a lovely evening!” she said, and Marie and James shared a look.
Arms, the bartender, came over with their bills and an apologetic frown.
“You think the minute we leave, the sexy professor types and secretaries with the garter belts arrive?” James asked, laying out a few bills on the bar.
“Oh, is that your type?” Marie asked with a smile.
James laughed as they both got up and made their way to the coat check.
About a dozen people left the bar, and a hand full of patrons remained, surely the mysterious “members.” Marie and James locked eyes as they gave the speakeasy one more glance before going up the stairs, into the dark alley that hid the bar, and then out into the autumn night. “I don’t suppose you want another drink?” James asked.
Marie shrugged, buttoning her red peacoat and looking around the barren street.
“Or maybe a walk?” he suggested, and she eyed him before nodding and following him north.
They walked down the dark city street slowly, James with his hands in the pockets of his jacket and Marie looking at the few dead leaves on the sidewalk. After a moment, James brought up the club again.
“So, what do you want it to be? What if it was everything you wanted? What would that look like?” he asked.
She considered that for a minute or two.
“I suppose I just want something different. Something interesting. Something truly elegant and a little dangerous, dangerous but controlled. I don’t know. I guess I want someplace I feel safe letting go.”
He thought about that. “Why can’t you just let go?”
“Why didn’t you like those clubs you went to? I guess we all have different levels of comfort, and if we find a place or people we are comfortable with, then who knows what kind of trouble we will let ourselves get into?”
They stopped at a red light, and he looked at her. “You’re very well-spoken. Very thoughtful answers,” he smiled.
She rolled her eyes. “Is this all a come-on? Fishing for my thoughts on sex parties to try and get us to have our own little party?” she asked, her eyes narrowed and her lips tight.
He faced her and considered. “I guess I’m testing the waters.”
“We’ve been walking in a big circle,” Marie said, looking around.
“Yes, we have.”
He turned and faced a dumpling shop with neon chopsticks flashing to give the impression of motion, feeding a dumpling to a boy with a dumpling-shaped face. “I already ate…” Marie started, but James winked and took her hand.
The place was tiny, just a counter and four stools. Menus were taped to the wall, and a man in a dirty white apron stood behind the counter. When the man behind the counter saw James, he turned and shouted something in Chinese. There was a shout in reply, and in a moment, another man, dressed in fashionable jeans and a designer T-shirt, smiled widely and opened one side of the counter to let Marie and James in.
Marie was confused but intrigued. She followed the two men through the cramped kitchen with its huge pans that held perhaps 100 dumplings each. Marie could feel the flames under each pan.
They entered a back office with boxes piled to the ceiling. In the back of the office was an open door that led to a staircase, which they quickly descended. Marie began to get an idea of what was happening.
The stairs led to a long, wide hallway full of more boxes, as well as bags of wilted scallions and giant sacks of flour. As they neared the end of the hallway, the man guiding them turned around and held out a hand for them to stop.
“One hundred, like you said,” he told James.
James smiled and took out a small wad of bills.
“Here is one-twenty. Thank you, Shen,” James said.
The man smiled wide, taking the money without counting it. “Text me when you’re done,” he said.
James took out his phone and put the flashlight on just as Shen closed the door to the hallway they were in. The single light bulb above them went out.
James led Marie to the end of the hall, where an old calendar was hanging on the wall. “Let me guess: It’s a peep show,” Marie whispered.
James held his phone light up so they could see each other. He pulled down the calendar to reveal not the hole Marie imagined but a large electronic tablet mounted to the wall.
“I’ve been working on this with Shen for a while now. He noticed he could hear the music from the club through this hole, so I got this really long fiber optic cable that ends in a sort of camera. After many attempts, I got the camera snaked into the speakeasy’s air shaft and right at a vent above the dance floor. It took us weeks to figure it out. This will be the first night there is a Members’ event to watch. Are you interested?” he asked, tapping the tablet and entering a long password.
Marie swallowed. She didn’t particularly want to be part of something devious or possibly criminal, but she was very curious. She finally decided that it couldn’t hurt to look. “You’re not recording this, are you?” she asked, watching him open various apps on the tablet.
“No. I don’t want any evidence. I just want to see what’s going on. Shen doesn’t care as long as he gets the money. I pay him every time he lets me down here.”
Marie winced as the screen flashed white and then faded to a wide-angle image of the speakeasy. They both went silent as they watched the screen, able to just barely hear the music in the silence of the hallway. The familiar swing of the house band could be heard, muffled and distant.
On the screen, they could see that the place’s furniture had been shifted around a bit. The tables and chairs were gone, and the couches were moved to the perimeter of the dance floor. In the center of the dance floor was a red rug, and in the center of that was a square platform of some kind.
There were a dozen or so people on the couches, sipping drinks, conversing. Some were kissing, and all seemed to be in a half-dressed state. People were in undershirts and slacks, or lingerie, or what looked like silk robes.
Even the band members were half-naked. The tall, gorgeous singer wore a rather complicated black corset and lingerie set with several straps and belts, black stockings, and a magnificent, diaphanous black robe with feathered fringe. The rest of the band members wore tuxedo slacks and suspenders with no shirts.
Marie and James were struck speechless as they watched. James could control the camera with his phone; he panned around a bit, zooming in on different people. The crowd seemed to be waiting for something.
It soon became clear what they were waiting for. A woman wearing a red kimono and carrying a black flag walked onto the dance floor and stepped up on the platform.
Marie moved a little closer to the screen, and James followed. She was acutely aware of the heat of his body near her. His hand brushed her arm in the dark, and she jumped a little.
As they watched, the woman slipped off her kimono and stood nude before everyone. The music stopped, and they heard, very vaguely, the sound of the woman’s voice. She must have been speaking very loudly.
Indeed, they could see her with her arms raised as if she were acting out some kind of scene. She spoke for a minute or two more, then knelt down on the platform and took something out of her bag.
James zoomed in even more. He and Marie both squinted at the screen. It was hard to make out at first, but it seemed like she had some kind of dildo that she was attaching to the platform in the center. She knelt on top of the dildo and took out a book from her bag, then began to read, slowly moving up and down as she did.
James panned around to the couches and saw the people, now at about twenty, all lounging against each other, listening to the reading, watching the woman perform for them, and touching each other. Groups of two or three or more kissed and groped each other.
Marie was aware of her breath getting louder and a bit ragged. She was aware of James standing even closer to her. She moved forward a little more, leaning in to see a man sucking another man’s cock on the couch, the bare breasts of a woman being fondled by two people.
James was suddenly closer, his leg pressing against hers. He moved, stepping back a bit, and then he was behind her. Her body tensed.
They said nothing as he slipped an arm around her waist. She put her hand over his and held him there, fingers tight on his forearm.
His hungry lips found her neck, and she gasped, though her eyes never left the screen. His other hand slid up her body and cupped her breast, and she pressed herself back against him.
As they watched, the people on the couch started getting up and moving toward the woman performing for them. They circled her as she rode her toy and read. Their hands reached out and touched her. Someone pulled her hair; others grabbed her breasts, and a woman lay in front of her and put her head between her legs.
Marie’s breath caught. She pulled at James’s hand and pushed it down between her legs. He growled in her ear as he pulled at the buttons of her jeans. She pulled at them with him until finally they were open, and his hand slipped under her silk panties into hot wetness.
As he fingered her, she reached behind and pulled at his belt with her other hand, reached up and pulled his hair, and pulled his mouth to her neck. She refused to look away from the screen to kiss him.
When she finally got his cock in her hand, she felt a wave of satisfaction. She stroked him slowly as they watched the people in the club descend into an orgy.
His hands were eager, and he pulled at her jeans, pushing them down and trying to get more of her. She wriggled against him, helping him until her jeans were at her knees, along with her panties. The cool air touched her wet pussy, and she whined and moaned for James’s fingers.
Her orgasm surprised her. It seemed to come out of nowhere; electricity burst from inside of her, and she was squeezing his hand between her thighs.
The sounds she made, whimpers and moans, and a low mantra of “fuck” brought James to the edge, too, and she felt his hot cum on her ass.
When they finally did kiss, their mouths were cold and dry from labored breathing. Still, they needed the kiss, and soon she turned to face him. He pushed her against the wall, and they kissed deeply and hungrily.
As they parted, panting, they saw the figures on the screen, now a pile of flesh, writhing and humping.
He took out his pretty silk pocket square and wiped his cum off Marie’s ass, like a true gentleman, and for the first time, she laughed.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she pulled up her jeans and straightened herself up.
“That was some show,” he said, still a little breathless.
He shut down the tablet and hung the calendar back over it, then took Marie’s hand and guided her down the hallways and through the door.
“Are you a vegetarian?” he asked as they made their way through the back of the dumpling house.
“Yes,” she said in confusion.
“Shen, two veggies, please,” he said, and the man smiled and nodded.
As they got to the counter and ducked under it, Shen handed James a bag.
Outside, the cold night air felt merciful and healing.
“Vegetable dumplings, if you like,” James said, holding up a small container and a pair of chopsticks.
She smiled and took them as they walked uptown again.
Sitting on a bench in the Minetta Triangle Park, they sat close and ate their excellent dumplings in silence. When they were done, Marie turned to James, put her hand on his cheek, and kissed him sweetly, like a first kiss. He swooned a bit at her tenderness.
“You should take me on a date,” she said.
“I’d like that. We should go somewhere uptown, far away from things,” he suggested.
Marie nodded. “Then we should go somewhere and figure out how our members-only night goes,” she said, her hand on his knee.
He smiled and swallowed. “I have some ideas,” he said.
She nodded again. “Me, too. A whole notebook full,” she said, taking the little leatherbound book out of her bag and placing it in his hands. “And you have a lot of catching up to do.”
She kissed him again.