Through a set of double doors, there’s a pink-hued bar. If we were anywhere else I’d be happy to linger here, nursing a scotch and sizing up my options. But this is a sex club. I don’t need to hang out at the bar to pull. I neck a shot and, with a nod of thanks to the two brutes on security, head through the next set of double doors.

The Playroom.

The space I’ve been itching to experience ever since my bloody brother got a membership. And on this Saturday night, it doesn’t disappoint. My first impression is of high ceilings, white pillars, white drapes, pink lighting and naked bodies. I feel like I’m at an orgy in Ancient Greece, and I’m fucking here for it.

The heavy beat of the dance music thrums in my veins. This is more like it. I’m restless and feverish, burning up with the need to make mischief. To cause carnage. I reckon I’ve spent more evenings at home since Marlowe started working for me than I have in my entire thirties. I’ve been in some little fuck bubble with her, and that ends now. I’m a sought-after guy with real needs, and just because my otherwise perfect assistant has gone all frigid and left me in the lurch, that doesn’t sentence me to a life of celibacy. My brother may have gone without sex for a decade, but there was only ever going to be one priest in this family, and it was never, ever going to be yours truly.

I strip off my jacket and fling it over my shoulder, holding onto it with a crooked finger and surveying the debauchery in front of me. Where to start? The woman at reception told me that the female hosts wear little white dresses and the male hosts all-black. I can see one brunette mounted on one of the St Andrew’s crosses, a little white scrap of fabric banded around her middle. Her tits are out and her cunt is on full display and she’s being ravished by several gentleman. She looks like she’s having the time of her life.

I look to my left and catch the eye of a gorgeous young Black woman who has to be a model. Her scarlet dress is sinfully sexy and matches her lips to perfection. She gives me a coquettish smile, but something about her immaculate appearance puts me off approaching her. I’ve already put one flawless woman in a car tonight. I’m not convinced these model types know how to let loose and have a good time.