"Ms. Jones," she said. "Lovely to see you back again. And Mr. Dupont, welcome. I hope you enjoy your time here."
"Oh, I'm sure I will," he said, glancing at me with a smile.
"If you'll follow me, I'll take you up to the main dance area."
She turned and led the way up the long hallway that was all cream-and-gold elegance. It wasn't trying to be sexy, just warm and sophisticated, and in that it succeeded. There were doors to the left and the right, and they all led into private dining rooms. I'd never used them myself, but I knew there was a mix of styles, from bohemian and medieval to ordinary, six-star dining.
"No cameras," Lucian murmured. "Isn't that a little unusual in an establishment that caters to a certain type of clientele?"
"Oh, the cameras are there," Katie answered, before I could. "We have the latest systems installed, be it infrared, heat-activated, or motion, and everything that happens in this establishment is recorded."
"Everything?" he said.
"Of course." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "It protects both our clients and ourselves. But the recordings are scrambled on multiple levels. Without the proper code, they would be useless to anyone."
A gold-and-glass staircase came into view, sweeping up toward two heavily carved oak doors. A grand entrance to a discreet but beautiful dance floor.
We climbed the stairs. At the top, Katie swiped her pass through the slot, then leaned toward the iris scanner. Once that had been checked, one of the massive doors clicked open. She grabbed the handle and opened it wider.
"Have a good time, Ms. Jones and Mr. Dupont."
We walked through the doors. The room was bright, lit by the sunshine filtering in through the glass-and-steel ceiling that soared high above us. Like the glass in our warehouse, the ceiling was electrochromic, so it could be darkened to cut much of the heat, and it was also one-way. The many buildings that looked down on us couldn't actually see anything. The room itself was large, and had kept the industrial feel of its origins. The old brick walls were a feature, and industrial artwork and old bits of machinery decorated the walls. The dance floor dominated, but the old cobblestones were covered by a clear plastic mix that smoothed the stones and provided a nonslip surface. Private rooms lined the west wall, and a large bar dominated the rear of the room. The changing rooms were located on the right.
Music swirled around us, heavy and melodic, filling the room with its sensual and erotic beat. The dance floor was packed, the lunchtime crowd obviously staying late today. My nostrils flared, taking in the rich aroma of lust and sex as I allowed the ambience of the room to soak through my pores, into my very bones. An answering tremor of excitement coursed through me. I loved this place. It had always been something of a refuge for me—a safe retreat in a world that seemed intermittently to go mad.
"This is very civilized," Lucian said, his green eyes holding an unearthly glitter in the brightness of the room. "And totally different in feel from the other clubs I've been to."
"It feels the same once you're on the dance floor," I said, then pointed. "Your changing room is over there. I'll meet you out on the dance floor."