But I couldn't get Richie out of my head from when he came in earlier, so I had to come down and find him,” she explained, glancing up at him with big doe eyes and an even bigger smile. “Lucky for me, no one else had snatched him up yet.”
“I think I'm the lucky one,” he replied, picking up a glass off the table and toasting it towards her.
“I think you're the one that's full of shit,” Derrick snorted, then laughed at his own comment. Valentine grabbed the glass out of Richard's hand and downed its contents in one shot.
“And I think you're the one that I'm not going to be seeing in here again,” she countered, and the other guys at the table oohed and laughed at Derrick.
Except for Derrick's friend, the man in the suit. He was sitting the farthest away from her, casually leaning back against the plush booth seating. He seemed to be watching her. Between the creepy mask, the shadows, and the cloak, she could barely see anything above his neck.
Yet still, I know he's watching me.
“Val, these are the guys,” Richard said. “That's Lenny, Bruce, Derrick, and Aaron.”
Aaron, huh. Such a plain name for such a seemingly interesting person. Maybe when he lost the mask, Aaron would be just as boring as everyone else. She smiled at the group of men.
“Hey, guys. Now, I know Derrick seems to think fraternizing with the help is beneath him, but it does come with perks. Anyone feel like a free bottle?”
Everyone cheered – except for Derrick – and she waved a waitress over. A bottle of whiskey was quickly produced, and along with it two go-go dancers, who promptly began shimmying and gyrating around the table. While the guys hooted and hollered, Valentine squeezed Richard close again and stretched up to talk into his ear.
“Wanna go to the moon?” she whispered.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
She led him away from his friends and around the corner. There was a door on the wall behind it, and she took him through it, into the room behind his booth. His friends were now vague, shadowy outlines through the frosted glass. The go-go dancers were giving lap dances, and Derrick seemed to be standing on his seat and throwing out money.
The man in the suit – Aaron – hadn't moved at all.
“Whoa, this place is ...” Richard's voice drifted away as they walked into the Moon Room.
The blue and red lights were flashing directly above the frosted glass. Across the room, the opposite wall was entirely covered in LED panels, and across their screens, fireworks were going off, large as life. A plushly padded bench skirted the glass wall and the back wall, but none of those things were the most interesting part of the room.
No, it was the fact that the floor was made out of water beds. They were covered in a thick, durable, military grade rubber canvas – almost impossible to rip – which was in turn covered by the softest calfskin leather, all dyed a pastel turquoise. Walking across the floor felt a little bit like walking on the moon, and with all the walls painted the same color as the floor, it only added to the effect. It was a great room for VIP parties, or dropping acid, or sometimes even more private moments.
Valentine led Richard to the bench and sat him with his back against the same wall his friends were sitting against. Then she hiked up her skirt and straddled his lap.
“We get this room all to ourselves?” he whispered, his hands splaying across the back of her hips. She laughed softly, then reached for a panel behind the bench. A push of a button, and the lighting in the room changed to crimson red.
“No,” she whispered back. “It's early. Give it time, and you'll see things happen in here you never saw happen in the light of day.”
“Jesus,” he breathed as she took one long, slow, lick up the side of his face.
“No,” she sighed. “Just Saint Valentine.”
2
The next morning, Valentine woke up on her face. She'd crashed into bed at six in the morning. She was still wearing her neon club outfit, and she could tell her hair was a rat's nest on her head. Groaning, she slowly pushed herself upright.
“Goddammit, Charice.”
After the club had shut down, she'd stayed behind for a while to shoot the shit with the plus sized queen of the night. Shooting the shit had turned into actual shots,