I understood there was a real world. I knew it existed beyond the bounds of the world in which I lived. But the boundaries of my world, or more aptly put, the bonds, meant it seemed alien to me. There but not there. On the cusp of my existence but as unattainable as Mars.

This meant the club—what I did there, what I saw, what it made me feel, the time I spent, everything there—was mine. Just mine.

I didn’t have that. Not in any other part of my life. In truth, my father had only just four years ago stopped approving every clothing and accessory item I bought to wear in the pursuit of Shade business. Although I was now free to clothe myself, that freedom was significantly lacking in every other aspect of my life.

Further, I liked watching. There were some scenes that did nothing for me, like the current one playing out. There were other times nothing caught my attention.

And there were times when a scene or a player did catch my attention.

But the bottom line was that the club still was a place I could be that was my own. I could enjoy a drink, relax, and for a few hours be away from everything and just be…me.

And if there was a scene I liked, it would set me up for much more pleasurable things later.

Of course, I was giving myself these pleasurable things. But pleasure was pleasure and I didn’t have a lot of that either so I was happy to take what I could get.

As the cunnilingus was unfortunately reciprocated, making the scene last longer than expected, I discovered I didn’t have much email and therefore enjoyed the mindlessness of several games of solitaire on my phone when the dimness of the window and the lack of sounds caught my notice.

I looked to the window to see they’d darkened it in preparation for the next scene just as I heard the door behind me open.

I sighed.

I preferred a private salon simply because it was private. I knew many used those salons for a variety of purposes, alone or bringing a partner or partners. But when we’d owned protection, I was made aware they had cameras everywhere, including in the viewing rooms. This was for security purposes and VIPs were assured that staff very much understood discretion and that all tapes were wiped when the club closed at three in the morning (something I knew they did in our time—during Valenzuela’s time, anything could be happening).

I might like to watch but I didn’t fancy anyone watching me.

I also enjoyed prolonging it. If a scene worked and I enjoyed it, waiting to take care of the need it ignited was half the fun.

So that wasn’t why I didn’t wish to have company.

I simply didn’t wish to have company.