We finished cleaning up from the night—or rather, the day—before. The sun had already begun to set on the hours we had spent together. It has been some time since I spent an entire day wrapped up in something that fun, all in one room. Why is it that the more enjoyable the sex, the longer it takes to restore order once the affair is over?
knock-knock.
Chad knocked at the open door before leaning his upper body into the room. His eyes swept around until they met mine. He tapped his wrist, a silent signal that the girls needed to get over to the club before he could join the door crew.
I always wondered how he managed that job without speaking. It's not that he can't talk; he simply chooses not to. I know he can. The three days following a human's death, when they are turned into a vampire, are agonizing. The body must adjust. Much of the change is invisible to humans, and even to other vampires, but the shift is profoundly painful. It rearranges one's entire personality. The psychological realignment is akin to traumatic physical abuse. This is why so many vampires carry such a palpable darkness; it emerges easily because we are dead, and a darkness now occupies the space where a soul once resided. The true dark energy, however, originates from the transformation into our new undead selves.
Kara has more free time than the other girls most days, but tax season is the exception. She logs ten or more hours a day handling payroll and bookkeeping. The events of the last few days put her work on the back burner, and she will need to catch up. She will spend most of her time in her office on the second floor of the club, or in the library next door.
Jade manages security for both the club and the funeral home. The funeral home security runs on autopilot, unless an alarm needs upgrading or something requires her personal attention. The club, on the other hand, is the complete opposite.
The club has many regulars and private stalls available for rent by the hour. We operate a bondage bar. People can come as they are, but most prefer to dress in their favorite kink or bondage gear. If they find someone they connect with, they can rent a stall for an hour or more to enjoy themselves freely. Each person wears a wireless ring that, if activated, trips a red light outside the room. If things escalate too far, Jade is responsible for intervention. Everyone signs a comprehensive waiver before they are allowed to play, but we rarely have issues with genuine participants.
The trouble usually comes from the "tourists"—those curious about what's inside. Sometimes, what they witness triggers a sensitive reaction, and they try to stop people from enjoying their pleasures. A form of fascism, really. The offense can also go the other way: if a tourist appears to be a poser, someone who is only there to watch, a regular may take offense and try to "show them what the life is really like" against their will. That's when Jade is called. She is extremely good at what she does. If someone persists after Jade steps in, there is a good chance that person will end up next door—or in our sub-basement.
Sonya works the bar. She isn't the greatest bartender in the world, but she's in the right place. The things she understands about kink and bondage would make the most seasoned BDSM guru blush. She has an impressive grasp of pain and pleasure, and she has the ability to get most people off within seconds. The fact that she's built like a six-foot Dolly Parton and wears revealing bondage gear only adds to the mental stimulation.
Jade is the only one who ever uses the stalls after hours, operating as a dominatrix. She says it helps relieve stress and keeps her dialed into the pain threshold of the average human. Humans are, after all, very breakable, and public accidents are difficult to cover up. I am very supportive of her work, both on and off the clock.
I maintain a private chair on the second floor, cut off from the public. I allow a few select women to join me, purely to keep people curious about who and what I am. Jade's team guards the access points, so people cannot simply wander up. In fact, the entire second floor is set aside for VIPs only. Sometimes people pay top dollar just to engage in public sex up there. I can see the attraction, but it's not high on my personal list of kinks. Flesh has so many amazing uses, don't you find?
I noticed a man enter the club wearing denim and cotton. He wasn't looking around like a tourist; he headed straight for the bar. I have a switch at my table: one button summons Jade and her team, and the other signals the bar that someone of interest has entered the club. I pressed the latter, alerting Sonya.
Sonya sent a lackey upstairs to inform me that the man claiming to be Kara's brother had returned and wished to speak with her again. I told the lackey to relay the message to Sonya: have him sent to my office.
I took the back hallway and entered my office from the rear. My office looks more like a museum than the workspace of a club owner. I unlocked the door and took a seat behind my desk to await his arrival.
The supposed brother entered the room, moving with the reluctant anxiety of someone forced into a situation and about to be questioned about a crime. He wore cowboy boots that looked far too old to be his, jeans, a flannel shirt, and a white undershirt—looking like he walked straight out of a cowboy grunge video. His hair was perfect: short, with a hint of wave, and dirty blonde, just like Kara's.
I spoke calmly. "Take it easy. You came to this place on your own, as far as I can tell. We had no hand in your arrival. But if you like, we can certainly have a hand in your removal."
He winced, as if I had struck a nerve. "I asked to see Kara. Where is she?"
"I know what you told my girls at the bar," I said. "I also know that after the last time you were here, Kara told me she has no wish to see you again." I tried my best to deliver the news as "man to man" as possible.
"Who the fuck are you anyway?" He tried to posture, attempting to make himself look capable of attacking me and surviving.
"I am the owner of this place, and the custodian of the lovely Kara. If she tells me she does not wish to see someone, I find I have an obligation to take those wishes with a level of importance." I was being as clear and honest as I could.
"Well, I am not moving until I get to see my sister." He spoke as if the choice were his to make.
I moved with the speed of a thought, snapping my fingers against his forehead. He dropped to the floor, instantly void of consciousness.
I pulled his ID from his back pocket and called for Chad. When Chad entered the room, I handed him the man's ID. The identification suggested this truly was Kara's brother. This meant I would have to make room for this new element on my plate.
For the moment, I had Chad load Kyle into a car and drive him home. One of our lackeys would follow to retrieve his car, and we would watch his house for a bit to see how deep this thing had gotten before it appeared on our radar.
When Chad returned to our little trinity compound, his lackey reported back: there appeared to be no outside threat beyond this man, Kyle, the brother of Kara.
He lives in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with his girlfriend, Seraphina (or Sera), and they are due to be married in less than seven months. Sera was not home when Chad dropped Kyle off. However, signs pointed to the fact that she is very unhappy with Kyle's current situation and his rekindled obsession with finding his sister. They found notes around the house and in the garbage that suggest the original search had been ongoing, but four months earlier, his obsession had grown to consume him completely.
I realized that now that he knows he has found her, this obsession will only intensify. I can see only one path to slow him down, or perhaps even put an end to this distraction once and for all.