As I’d expected, neither of my mates looked up as I stood, moved around the back of our group of plush leather chairs, and slid first to the back of the room before moving to the far side wall. Even if they weren’t looking, I still didn’t need to provoke their attention by making a beeline for the private hallway.

I moved along the wall to the front, where a man almost my height stood, wearing a black suit and an earpiece. With a nod, he unlatched the heavy silk rope and let me pass through the thick velvet curtain.

I had full access. None of my partners in crime were to be allowed back here, however, no matter how influential or smooth-talking the Ryan brothers were. I’d made Johnny promise they would not accidentally stumble upon me and Sara.

I’d been in Red Moon so many times with her now that I didn’t need to see inside any of the other rooms to know what I’d find there.

In the Red Room, a naked woman being whipped by one man while another dripped hot candle wax over her breasts.

In the White Room, a man’s hand up to the wrist disappearing inside a woman lying spread eagle on a table.

In the Pink Room, I caught a glimpse of three women, all making love to the same man.

The carpet was thick, silencing my steps. Here, unlike at Red Moon, the one-way windows looking in on each room were smaller, though there were more of them. It gave the feeling of seeing a different show through each one, a different view of the same scene: standard voyeuristic fare. I’d learned in the past few months that the performers—while fetish-driven and daring—rarely portrayed anything beyond graphic, emotionless fucking. Which was fine; according to Johnny, most patrons wanted only to see the extreme sex acts, things they wouldn’t find on television or—in-deed—their own bedroom.

But there were the few, our unknown regulars at Red Moon, who came on Wednesdays specifically to watch me with Sara. Our nights there came above almost any other obligation, whether it was work or friends or family; Red Moon let us express something we both needed. In the past months, we had fully embraced our shared exhibitionist fetish, discussing it for hours afterward in her bed or mine.

There wasn’t anyone watching our room yet when I approached, so I could slip in unnoticed. As I knew it would be, the door to the Green Room was unlocked. No patron allowed back here other than me would dare try a stray doorknob in one of Johnny’s clubs.