Sips of Blood by Mary Ann Mitchell Page B

portion of the
club."
    "So I can get into at least a part of the
club."
    "Anyone can. Regrettably." Garrett expected
the man to sniff, but he didn't. "I should say any male with
forty-five dollars can get in. Females, of course, get in free. But
you look like you'd like that idea."
    Not wanting to antagonize his source of
information, Garrett simply asked again for the location of the
club.
    "You're standing in front of it."
    Garrett turned around and peered at the
restaurant's window.
    "You mean..."
    "It's right above Ernie's."
    "Ernie's. I take it that's the
restaurant."
    "Yes."
    "And the entrance?"
    The man pointed to a fire door nestled in
between the restaurant and a packing house.
    "Hard to find. There's no name on the
place."
    "People usually don't need to see the name to
find it."
    "This is my first time." Brilliant
statement, Garrett. He felt the weight of the dog's paw settle
on the tip of one of his new Ferragamo shoes. If he pulled his foot
away, the leather would definitely be scratched; however, if he
waited, his big toe might fall asleep. Brusquely he pulled his shoe
from under the dog.
    "I'd better get Rin Tin Tin home. He's
getting a bit antsy."
    Garrett laughed. "Rin Tin Tin?"
    "That's right." The man didn't crack a smile,
but he continued. "Perhaps I'll see you later." He winked and
walked off with the dog.
    Garrett went over and knocked on the fire
door. It swung open an inch and then all the way.
    "Good evening." The voice sounded like a bad
impression of Marlon Brando. The body looked like Mr. America on a
double dose of steroids, and instead of glistening with oil his
body neoned in bright-colored tattoos. "Member or a guest?"
    "Guest."
    Immediately the man spun around and lifted a
xeroxed sheet from the table behind him.
    "That will be forty-five dollars,
please."
    Garrett counted out the money.
    "Thank you. We have one request, actually a
list of requests." The man snickered. "We'd like you to read our
rules before climbing the stairs."
    Garrett quickly scanned the short list
containing the typical sex club "do's" and "don't's": No public
intercourse. No forcing someone to play who did not want to. Always
use barriers when touching genitals. No speaking to participants of
a scene. Do not engage in loud talking or laughter when near a
scene. Do not touch members of a scene unless specifically
invited.... The only unusual suggestion indicated that a customer
could enlist a club employee's assistance in finding a willing
partner. This club may have an advantage over the others, Garrett
thought.
    The edges of the cement-block stairs had
rubber grip runners. As Garrett climbed each step, he glanced at
the beige peeling walls. At the top of the staircase, burgundy
velvet drapes blocked the doorway. A thumping rhythm pulsed the
material. Cautiously he pushed the drapes aside.
    Illumination dim, music loud, and a sweet
odor hiding sour sweat, all hit his senses in a flash.
    As his eyes became accustomed to the lights,
he suddenly caught sight of several torture devices. The St.
Andrew's Cross to his right stood ready for a victim. A photograph
of St. Andrew hung on the wall between the two top cross beams. A
plaque next to the cross stated that, "According to Leonardo da
Vinci, the human body displays beautifully with the poser's legs
spread at a seventy-two degree angle. Enjoy!"
    "Like to try it out?"
    Garrett turned to see the man who had been
walking the Great Dane. His leather jacket was unzipped, revealing
a blood-red tattoo of a skull-and-crossbones on his chest. Garrett
marveled how the image looked as if it were carved from a bleeding
open wound. The brushed edges of the design gave the appearance of
bleeding flesh.
    "No!"
    The man moved closer to Garrett. He sniffed
the air.
    "You have the smell of a sub." He pulled
Garrett's chin upward. "The pleading eyes of a submissive. And the
shallow breathing to mark you as victim."
    The man started to undo Garrett's tie, but
Garrett pushed the hand away.