Ethan walked the familiar path down Prince Street and considered, for a fifth time, whether he should go to the club. He’d only recently broken up with the dancer, Ella, and everything felt a bit raw. Still, it was Saturday. It was the first Saturday of the month, specifically, which meant it was Members Only night at Under the Roses.
He’d been a member of the speakeasy for just over five years, and in that time, he’d been in and out of love a few times, but nothing like Ella: six months of intensity he didn’t know if he could handle. In the end, it turned out he couldn’t.
“Fuck it,” he said into the chill autumn air.
The florist’s shop stood at the corner of the street, its plate glass windows showing a rainbow of roses and lilies and flowers he didn’t know the names of. Gold letters across the spotless glass read “Gold’s Roses & Exotic Flowers.”
The novelty of a nightclub hidden under a florist hadn’t really lost its appeal, although it had become “hip” and more and more people were becoming aware of it.
Ethan pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted the bouncer. In a moment, he saw a light deep in the shop, and then the familiar face of Antony, the tall, thick-necked, and remarkably broad doorman who had been there since the club opened.
“Hey, Ethan,” he said, and the two shared a handshake that ended in a hug.
Then it was through the closed store, through the back room with the buckets of cut flowers and their overwhelming perfume, and down the stairs to the red door.
Ethan paused for a moment.
“You okay, man?” Antony asked in his deep calm voice. “I heard about you and…”
Ethan looked up at him. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Antony nodded sympathetically.
Walking through the door reminded Ethan of that scene in The Wizard of Oz where everything is suddenly Technicolor: the warm light of the club and its vivid red and gold wallpaper. A slow walking bassline and the horns of the band rang out, cutting through the tipsy buzz of the crowd.
There were, perhaps, forty people packed into the club, plus five more in the band, a bartender, and a single woman on the stage in front of the shimmering red curtains pulling off one of her elbow-length gloves to the music. A couple kissed at a table in front of the stage, and another couple was pressed together against a pillar. Just another night at Under the Roses.
Ethan went to the bar and ordered a Manhattan, and the bartender, Matt, nodded. Matt was known as “Arms” because of his massive, muscular biceps that were covered in tattoos. It was impressive to see him shake a cocktail.
Ethan held the chilled glass to his lips as he turned to scan the crowd, the darkness of the evening feeling like it was lifting. Maybe a night out was just what he needed. Just as his heartbeat started to settle, he caught sight of something that made it spike again: a dark bob cut, dramatic red lips, and sharp-edged eye makeup. He recognized Lucia from the office instantly.
It had happened before, once or twice. He’d run into people from various jobs, from “real life,” at the club. It was one of the trendiest places in the city; but that was on a regular night, not a Members Only night. He turned and went around to the side of the bar, behind a pillar, and collected himself.
Lucia didn’t work directly with Ethan; she was in finance or something, and he was in marketing, but they occasionally crossed paths. She was a bit of a gossip, and he didn’t want to be the target of unsavory office chatter. He could do without, Did you hear Ethan likes to go to sex clubs?
Although, if she was there, then she knew what kind of club it was, or at least what kind of evening a Members Only night was. She must have known that on those nights, the burlesque was a little more risqué, and the dance floor was open for more than just tangos. That meant she was just as vulnerable as he was.
Arms, the bartender, walked over and slipped a napkin to Ethan. The napkin bore a message, written in lipstick, that read, “I saw you already, don’t hide. -L.”
Taking a deep breath and gathering his confidence, Ethan walked out into the open and saw Lucia waiting for him, Champagne in her hand and a smug grin on her face.
“I wondered if I would run into someone I knew at my first Members Only night, but I wouldn’t have guessed it would be you. Hello, Ethan,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.
“Welcome to Under the Roses, Lucia. Yes, I’ve been a member for half a decade,” he said, raising his glass to her. She raised hers back in a silent toast.
The band swelled, and a drumroll announced the first act. They both turned to the stage as the emcee entered.
Alexis was a tall, dark-skinned man with a pronounced Haitian Creole accent. He wore a gold sequined vest, matching slacks, and high-heeled black boots. He was very beautiful, and his makeup was vivid, with purples and golds and greens around his eyes in long, peacock feather-like designs.
“My charming and demanding patrons, I will be brief. I know you want skin. I know you want to be seduced. We at Under the Roses want to give you everything you desire. So for your first course, dig your teeth into the piercing eyes and honeyed thighs of Ms. Sapphire!” he said, raising his thin arms to the sky as the curtains opened behind him and a silk-clad dancer began to sway.
Ethan turned to Lucia and saw she was tense. She watched the dancer with a strange confusion.
“Do you enjoy burlesque?” he asked.
She turned, her eyebrows furled. “What?” she asked with annoyance.
“Sorry, I was just asking if you liked burlesque.”
She seemed embarrassed about snapping at him. “Oh, yes, sorry. I’ve just… I mean, I was hoping for a different dancer. It’s sort of why I became a member. I was hoping to find this one dancer.”
Ethan nodded, impressed by the dedication. Becoming a member was both expensive and difficult. “She must be a hell of a dancer for you to go through all that trouble,” he said with a chuckle.
She didn’t laugh. She moved in closer to him, to whisper. “You’ve been a member for a while. Maybe you know her. I met her at a public show a few months ago. Then we had a drink afterward. Then…” she trailed off. “Well, anyhow, I need to find her. Her name is Ella. Have you ever heard of her?”
Ethan felt the blood drain from his face. He wondered if it could be some kind of trick. “She… uh… she isn’t performing tonight,” he said flatly.
Lucia deflated. “Fuck. Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Yes. We used to date. I don’t come here if she is going to be here.”
Her eyes bulged.
“You dated Ella? Ella Goode?” she asked incredulously.
He looked away from her, into the crowd. He felt a lump in his throat. “Yes, for a few months. It didn’t end particularly well,” he said, his voice tightening.
Lucia finished her drink. “We met at a show,” she said, “and then we went to some afterparty and got to talking, and she looked at me with this… just this wild smile, and said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’ And then we had this night out on the town that I can hardly even remember but, God, I can never forget. And in the back of some bar, she kissed me. It’s like it was the first time I’d ever been kissed. We went back to my apartment…” she started, but Ethan held up his hand.
“I get it. I know Ella. I know how that night goes,” he said, grimly.
“No, you don’t understand!”
Ethan winced. “It was a long night of sex. Every kind of sex. Then you went to breakfast, then you went back to your apartment and spent the whole weekend together. She convinced you to take off that Monday. You told each other everything about each other,” Ethan reeled off robotically.
Lucia’s eyes turned angry. “She told you?”
Ethan laughed a dark and jaded laugh.
“No, that’s just Ella,” he said, draining his own drink.
They both stood there, each in their own kind of shock. The show went on, and the music played.
“This was a bad idea. I’m going home,” Ethan said finally, putting his glass on the closest table and making a beeline for the door.
He was vaguely aware of Lucia following him, tugging on his sleeve, saying something to him, but he kept walking, to the door, through the door, up the stairs, through the flower shop, and out into the brisk autumn night.
He took a deep breath and heard her behind him. “Do you smoke?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head, and she sighed.
“I quit, but I’m reconsidering,” she said.
“Go home, Lucia,” Ethan said, not looking at her.
“No.”
Ethan turned and saw her eyes red, her mouth quivering. “I’ve tried to find her, but I think she’s avoiding me,” Lucia said, looking down at the ground.
Ethan closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “If it seems like someone doesn’t want you to find them, then you should stop looking.”
She glared at him, but then softened. “That’s probably true. I just…” she started, but then gave up.
A yellow cab stopped at a red light in front of them. “I should go,” he said, but she touched his arm.
“Can I… um… can we have a drink? Can you tell me about her?” she asked.
Ethan opened the taxi door and got in the back. He looked at the woman he’d seen for a few years at the office, someone he knew peripherally, who he liked, and who he perhaps at some point even had a crush on. He sat there with the door open for a moment until the driver looked back at him in annoyance. “Fine. One drink,” he said, making room for her.
She slipped in next to him, and they were off.
The ride was short and filled with a tense silence. When they arrived, Lucia followed him up to his apartment and looked around as he made them drinks.
It was a beautiful one bedroom, with a decidedly bohemian Brooklyn feel: a living room filled with overstuffed bookshelves and no television; a well-stocked bar and a collection of three vintage cuckoo clocks, of all things, hanging on the exposed brick wall.
Ethan handed her a scotch, and they clinked glasses. “To Ella,” he said with pained eyes.
She nodded and sipped.
“I met her at the club, and our story was almost the same as yours, only we had another woman with us, another woman named Olivia. It was a wild night with the three of us. Only when Olivia left, Ella stayed. A weekend turned into a week; we saw each other every night. Then it settled into something calmer. Still, we would have these marathon weekends of sex, and just… I don’t know, wild intimacy. Kissing and crying and fucking poetry. I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, draining most of his glass in one gulp. “It was never anything exclusive, just passionate dating. Then one day, I asked her to come over, and she said she was busy. And she was busy the next weekend, too. Then she just stopped answering my texts.”
Lucia paced around the living room. “Yeah, well, at least you got a few months. I guess I was only interesting enough for a three-day weekend.”
Ethan laughed. “It’s just because you weren’t a member. I was around. I was the person she would go home with if she were bored, I think,” Ethan said, going back to refill his glass.
“When she left Tuesday morning, God, my whole house smelled like her,” Lucia said, looking down.
“Yeah, perfume and pussy. That’s how she left my place,” Ethan chuckled darkly.
“She smelled so fucking good. What was that perfume?” Lucia asked.
“Yves Saint Laurent,” he said, picking up a copy of Vanity Fair from his coffee table. “I just saw an ad for it. I didn’t have the stomach to open the sample because the smell does things to me…”
She moved in quickly and took the magazine from him. She eyed him for a moment and paged through the copy of the magazine until she found the ad. She tore out the page and opened the sample, taking a long sniff, then let the magazine fall to the floor. Looking Ethan right in the eyes, she slowly rubbed the paper on her neck and against her wrists. Her eyes seeming angry as she rubbed the perfume down into her cleavage.
Ethan was shocked for a moment, then he moved in, pressing his nose into her neck and breathing in the instantly familiar sent.
She rubbed the perfume on him, too, pulling open his dress shirt and rubbing it onto his chest until it was almost overpowering. The memory of Ella spread all over them as the paper sample fell to the floor. Ethan leaned down, and they kissed for the first time.
It was surreal to Ethan, how similar Lucia’s lips felt to Ella’s. The two women were not dissimilar, though Lucia’s skin was a darker tan, and she had wider hips, which Ethan liked; he pulled her toward him by her hips, and they kissed with a desperate hunger.
Lucia’s mind swam. Her desire for Ella swirled and turned in on itself in her mind. She couldn’t have Ella, but she could be her. She felt the perfume changing her, her lips curling into the teasing smile she remembered on Ella’s lips.
“I want you to kiss me like you kissed her,” she said, pulling at Ethan’s clothes. “I want you to fuck me like you fucked her,” she said into his ear before biting his neck and clawing at his back.
Ethan pushed her away suddenly. They stood apart, eyes wild, and he took off his shirt, kicked off his shoes.
“You should be like her, then,” he said, leaning down and taking the hem of her dress in his hand and pulling it up. “You know she doesn’t wear panties.” He pulled Lucia’s panties off and tossed them aside.
Lucia smiled and laughed, putting her hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. “Oh, I remember,” she said, pushing him to his knees, just the way Ella pushed her down.
Ethan knelt on the floor, and Lucia pushed him farther, until he laid flat on the floor on his back. His eyes were wide as he watched Lucia pull up her dress and straddle his chest.
Lucia had been timid with Ella. She had let Ella lead, and that was part of the wildness of the night. She had become something of Ella’s slave in bed. At that moment, though, she felt possessed by the dancer. She wanted the pleasure she had given to Ella.
She held the hem of her dress up as she moved forward and straddled Ethan’s head, and let out a moan as she pressed herself down on his mouth. She ground her hips down and slipped one hand into his hair.
For Ethan, the world became the smell of Ella’s perfume and the taste of Lucia’s pussy. He was enveloped in the taste. He licked and tried his best to please her, and she guided him, using his hair, to the spot she wanted him to focus on.
Lucia rode his face like that until they were both soaked. As she rose up and heard him gasp for air, she turned around and pressed back down onto his lips again. She was facing his feet and leaning forward to unbuckle his belt, pull at his zipper, and free his cock.
Then they became like a circuit, both connected, giving, and taking pleasure at the same time. As Lucia sucked his cock and pushed her pussy over his mouth again, Ethan felt like his brain was short-circuiting.
It was Lucia who came first, holding his cock as she moaned into his thigh, his tongue never stopping as she squirmed on it.
Then she was up, standing over him and pulling off her skirt. He got up slowly, eyes full of awe. She took Ethan’s excitement in, and it felt invigorating. She felt powerful, standing naked in his apartment, her body still vibrating from her orgasm.
He struggled out of the rest of his clothes, then moved in and kissed her. The perfume was all around them again.
He reached up and pulled her hair as they kissed. Lucia winced and moaned. Their kiss deepened, and then he pushed her toward the bed.
“I’ll give you what you want. I’ll fuck you like I fucked her,” he said, his hard cock bobbing as he walked her to his bed.
He pushed her down, and she got on her hands and knees on the mattress, looking back at him over her shoulder with smoldering eyes and a wicked smile. After sitting on his face for so long, she was aching to get his cock inside of her. She arched her back and stuck her ass in the air, vividly remembering Ella, on stage, lithe like a snake.
There was a pang there for a moment, for both of them, unspoken, a genuine longing for Ella. But looking at each other, they both seemed to simultaneously agree to fully give themselves to the comfort they had found in their sublimation.
He got a condom out of a little box on his bedside, and Lucia smiled. Then he was behind her, his hands on her hips again, and she was panting in need. He teased her, slipping against her, but not into her.
“Please,” she whined, looking back at him again.
She was Ella, the cat in heat, ass in the air, begging for it. Ethan thought of that as he slipped into the heat of her, and they both let out a gasp.
They fucked hard and fast like this at first, then rolling around on the bed, twisting their limbs together. He remembered how Ella particularly liked it. He put Lucia on her side, one leg bent so that he could slip deep into her.
He came and collapsed on top of her, and they both lay panting, sweaty, and wild.
“Jesus,” he mumbled.
She kissed him, turning him over and straddling him. “I want more,” she demanded.
He took a few deep breaths and nodded. “More.”
And that’s just what they gave each other, all night until they both couldn’t take anymore, until they were sore and exhausted.
They kissed as the sun rose. Sometime in the night, Lucia had ceased to be Ella. They had fucked the memories away, and they had become something else. In the golden light, they kissed tenderly, naked in each other’s arms.
“What do we do now?” Lucia whispered, missing the confidence she had found hours before.
He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her softly on the forehead.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.
She looked at him in confusion.
“We sleep for a little and then fuck some more. We fuck all weekend, and we tell each other all of our stories. We take Monday off and spend it in bed,” he explained.
She laughed weakly, though she seemed unsure if he was kidding.
“We make our own wild adventure, and we don’t hurt each other after,” he said thoughtfully.
Her throat tightened. “Promise?” she asked, her voice cracking a little.
“Wherever this goes, I promise. We’ll be straight with each other, and kind and real,” he added.
She closed her eyes and nodded. Then she opened her eyes and kissed him. “Before we go to sleep, though, can we do one thing?” she asked.
He nodded seriously.
“Can we shower off this perfume and just sleep as us?”
He smiled and took her hand. They went off to wash off the bad memories and fall asleep, in fresh sheets and each other’s arms.