electricity onto my arm. “What’s wrong with using a stamp?”
“Regular ink doesn’t show up well in these dim rooms. On a white girl like you, maybe. But we need our crew to stand out at all times. These glow, so there’s no confusion as to who works here. Nobody can sneak in as a worker because they can’t replicate our stamp. Just be sure you cover it up when you leave the club.”
We continued ignoring Flynn, who was still gasping for breath on the floor.
“How the hell did he do it?” I asked.
She wiped off the bar with a clean rag. “Flynn is a Mage of many unique talents. He uses a special ink with liquid fire.”
My eyes widened in horror. “Wait a minute. You said this comes off in a week.”
“It does.”
“Liquid fire is permanent.”
Flynn pulled himself to his feet while rubbing his throat.
“I warned you to stop doing that.” Simone clucked her tongue at him. “You think every woman is graced by your touch.”
He coughed while taking a seat on the stool, not irritated at all by my throat punch. “Liquid fire seals injuries to your skin. When you get a tattoo, the needle penetrates. I don’t.”
Simone chuckled but said nothing.
Flynn opened his right hand to show me an owl tattoo. “When I draw an image on my hand with special ink, I can transfer my light through the liquid fire. It binds my light to your flesh, creating an exact replica of the pattern. Temporarily, of course.”
“Nifty. So you draw that thing on your hand every night?”
“What else have I got to do? Watch reruns of Fantasy Island?”
Simone had the same mark on her inside forearm. I hadn’t noticed before, but she moved around a lot and there were too many distractions.
“Flynn, give her the tour. When you’re done, bring her straight down. We’re about to get busy in the next hour.”
He plucked a pair of orange glasses with round lenses from his shirt collar and made sure they weren’t broken before putting them on. “Whatever you say, my queen.”
Chapter 7
Flynn escorted me through the first floor to show me all the sections. The caged dancers were part of the show but not the main attraction. The White Owl gave people absolute freedom to express themselves without judgment. Some were engaged in intimate conversations while others role-played under the watchful eyes of onlookers.
Flynn gestured toward a door. “That’s the loo.”
The symbol on the door was a man and woman holding hands.
“It’s for everyone,” he explained. “If you want privacy, I suggest using the staff room in the back.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“These don’t have stalls. It’s all very… voyeuristic.”
“That’s the worst first date I could possibly imagine.”
He barked out a laugh. “Nobody comes here to find true love. They come to play and to watch. To fantasize. For some blokes, peeping in the loo is a fantasy.” We passed a long row of black doors with sliding peepholes. “They come to escape. Have a look.”
I leaned forward and slid open the cover.
“The window is mirrored on their side, so they never know when someone’s watching them,” he explained, leaning against the door.
A woman in nothing but candy-red heels was choosing an outfit from a clothes rack. She held a gold dress up and looked at herself in the corner mirror. A red love seat faced the door, and I wondered if this was her fantasy or one she might be playing out for someone else.
“On this floor, we have strict rules. One person per room. Otherwise, it’s hard to keep an eye on them all and things can get messy.”
I slid the latch closed. “What do you do around here?”
He pushed away from the door and led me to the stairs. “I’m part of the cleanup crew.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, smiling at me over his shoulder. “I pick up broken chairs, clean spilled drinks, toss out rule breakers, put people on the naughty list, and keep the place spotless and copasetic. So that means I’ve got my eye on everyone, making sure they follow the rules. The owner doesn’t want his fantasy club turning into a cheap brothel.”
“How the hell do you police that in a place like this?”
We reached the top of the wide, carpeted stairs, and he stopped at the door. “The bartenders keep the peace. They handle the fights on the floor, and my blokes keep everything else in order. We enforce the rules, and most people follow them.