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  Hot Cop 1 clears his throat again and responds with a no. Hot Cop 2 declines with a shake of his head.

  “Alright, well would you like to see… the rodent?” I ask them, already heading back towards the bedroom. The two cops trail after me like ducklings, glancing around the apartment as we walk.

  An hour or so later I finish with the police report and the Hot Cops state that it appears to be some sort of prank. They encourage me to try to think of anyone that would do this, but while they’re writing the report I draw a blank. Thinking through the short list of people that know where I live, I can’t imaging one of them would think that gutting a rat and leaving it on my bed while I’m at work is a joke. The Hot Cops close out the report process with a statement advising me to call again if anything further occurs, or if I can think of any other details I left out.

  After letting the Hot Cops out of the apartment, I head back to my bedroom. I stand on the side of the bed for a few minutes, sickened by the sight before me. I can’t think of anyone that would want to do this, or why they left it in my bed. I gather myself and create a plan of attack to clean up the mess so that I can finally get some rest.

  I decide the easiest way to handle this is just to roll up the duvet and dump it out back into the dumpster. The duvet is neither expensive, nor important, enough to attempt to salvage after this incident.

  After dumping the duvet, I check to make sure the blood didn’t seep through onto the other layers of the bed, then go through the process of remaking the entire bed anyways. With fresh bedding finally on the bed, I collapse face down. Within minutes I fall into a deep sleep without setting an alarm.

  A loud banging on my front door jolts me from a deep sleep. I groggily run my hands over my face, then slowly sit up, and move out of my bed. I meander over to the door and check the peephole. I see Katia’s peppy, smiling face on the other side and pry the door open to let her in.

  “Whyareyouhererightnow?” I mumble towards her in the doorway, mashing all of my words together. I wander back into the kitchen without waiting to hear her answer. My sleep addled brain seeking a cup of coffee, and the time.

  Katia follows me into the kitchen, then pushes past me to start opening the cupboards and pulling things out. Prepping the coffee before I have a chance, all while humming to herself.

  Katia is happy all the time in the morning. She can get an hour of sleep and be chipper, unlike me. I need at least seven hours of sleep and three cups of coffee before I start feeling human.

  Katia responds to my earlier question, entirely too energetic for… whatever time it is now, “We are supposed to get the rest of the supplies for Vice’s anniversary celebration today! I already called and the masks are ready!”

  I drag my hands down my face again, attempting to wake up. Hoping I can clear the fuzzy haze of sleep from my eyes and brain with my palms. Giving up after the third attempt, I let my hands rest by my sides and respond to Katia, “I’ll go get dressed, if you finish up the coffee and bring me a cup, as soon as possible.” She utters a quick agreeance and carries on making the elixir of life.

  I amble back to my room and snag my phone of the night stand, glancing at the front screen. A small groan escapes when I see the time lit up on the screen. I only slept about four hours after everything that happened earlier. Resigned, I set my phone down to get dressed for the day. I’m thankful that at least it’s Sunday afternoon, so the Club is closed today and I have the next few days off as well.

  Vice is only open Wednesday evening through Sunday morning.

  Even the wicked need a rest.

  We have, on occasion, opened the Club on a non-standard business day. If a particularly wealthy Patron is interested in sponsoring an event, we do our best to accommodate their needs. It does require a hefty deposit and a month or more of notice to make sure I have the staff available. Luckily, these requests don’t happen all that often, only two or three times so far since the Club has been open. So more often than not we get to keep our typical days off.

  I tame my hip-length raven-colored hair into a sleek ponytail, throw on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, add a pair of low heeled-sandals, and a loose pale pink tank then I’m good to go. I’m more than ready for coffee, and getting excited for a bit of shopping with my girl.

  Today, Katia and I have a few errands mixed in with our shopping. I still need to pick-up the masks for our girls to wear at Vice’s Masquerade celebrating the Club’s One Year Anniversary. Masks are required for all in attendance and the overall theme of the night is decadence. The Masquerade event is the first of its kind for the Club, with the evening promising to be sultry and mysterious.

  In addition to picking up the masks for the Club, I still need to purchase a dress to wear to the event. We only have five days left, but I still haven’t found my dress yet. The hype surrounding the event means that the Escorts and I all need to bring our A-game, with both our attitudes and our appearances. I can’t just select a random dress and throw it on a few hours before the event, I need to find a showstopper. Our Patrons would be disappointed if the girls and I didn’t live up to the theme of the event.

  Although I’m exhausted this morning, I’m also grateful Katia woke me up so early so that we could have plenty of time to shop. I’ve been stressed about organizing the details involved with the event and haven’t dedicated enough time to finding my dress, but I’m confident Katia will be able to help me choose one today.

  We start our shopping trip at a local costume store where Vice often purchases attire for the Escorts. We placed a custom order months ago to make masks for the girls for the event. The masks vary in style, but are all a vibrant garnet or a deep plum. Katia and I chose the two colors together, with the intent of finding matching dresses for the Escorts to wear for the event as well. Last week, racks of dresses in garnet and plum, which we ordered following the masks, were delivered. The dresses are now prepped and ready, sitting in the back of the dressing room for the night of the Masquerade, each assigned to a specific girl based on their role for the night.

  The owner of the Costume Shop, James, greets us at the door as we walk in, “Ladies, looking wonderful as always!” He offers each of us a quick hug before leading us to the back. On the floor there are a few large bags filled with rectangular boxes. He stops by each bag and pulls out a single box, placing them on the work table before us.

  James makes a show of opening each box in front of us and unfolding the tissue inside to present us the masks one by one. He shows us a few to make sure that we are satisfied with the color and quality. We ooh and ahh over the beautiful creations, enjoying hyping up the drama that James has created with the mask viewing.

  Our masks are guaranteed by James as exclusive looks for Vice, so that the Escorts will be easy to identify and not be mistaken for a guest of a Patron. Or vice versa. James owns one of the few local costume shops that can put together a custom mask and the one closest to the Club, so his exclusivity on our chosen colors will help to ensure that our themed colors stay exclusive.

  My mask is a custom made piece as well, and James pulls it from its own bag on the floor, presenting it last, to Katia and I. It’s a gold mask with a delicate green inlay, the same shade as my eyes, James insists. The green winds its way throughout the mask like a vine. I try it on for James and Katia, who wolf whistle and catcall in response. James hands me a mirror and I hold it up to my face, making a pout at my reflection. The mask is amazing, decadent, perfect.

  My mask is everything that I expected and more. Now I need to find the dress that also screams DECADENCE. I’m hoping to find a sultry gold number to match my mask and to help me stand out the night of the Masquerade. Gold is my color. It makes my olive skin radiant, my raven hair shine, and my green eyes pop.

  Katia and I gather up our bags of masks from the back. We each give James a kiss on the cheek and thank him profusely for his incredible work, as always. Before we can leave the shop, James has one last surprise, he presents Katia with
her own separate box. She opens it up with a gasp. I peek over her shoulder to see inside. Resting on the tissue paper is an onyx colored mask with three large, garnet colored flowers on the left side. “I love it!’ Katia exclaims, throwing her arms around James for a hug, after gazing at it for a moment.

  James beams at both of us, then tells us to call him if we need anything else. We say our goodbyes again, then head out to find my dress.

  After three hours of boutique shopping, I’m about to give up hope. I’ve seen a few dresses that I like, but none in gold or colors that complement the gold mask that James made for me. “This is the last stop,” I inform Katia as we head into yet another Boutique, “If I can’t find anything, I’ll just have to go back to one of the other options that I’ve tried on.”

  The owner of the Boutique, Marla, walks to the front and greets us by name as we enter. We’ve frequented her Boutique in the past, successfully finding dresses for either the Escorts of myself for various events. Marla also helped us to find the dresses that we use on rotation in the Main Bar at the Club. Her Boutique is the most expensive on the block, but the price of her dresses usually ends up being worth it.

  The three of us chat for a few minutes to catch up, then I tell Marla about the upcoming Masquerade at the Club. Marla listens intently to my details about the theme, nodding her head when I ask if she’d like to see my mask. After fawning over the design, Marla jumps into what she does best: finding dresses for me to try on.

  “Do you have an idea in mind of the look you want?” Marla inquires.

  I throw out a few adjectives: sultry, gold, showstopper.

  Marla nods and walks to the back, after a few minutes she ushers me into a changing room, placing six gold dresses on the hooks inside with me.

  The first one is… too much. Long and sequined, low cut round neck with a slit up the side. It doesn’t show off my small and slender body well. I look like I’m a kid wearing my mom’s dress, with the fabric puddling around my feet on the ground. With the length, I imagine this dress would look excellent on Katia. She is much taller and curvier than I am.

  I try on two more dresses that aren’t the right fit for me or suited for the occasion. Finally I slip a shimmery gold, silk sheath dress over my head. When I turn to the mirror, I know. This is the one.

  The straps are round and thin. The neck line is rounded with the slightest hint of a cowl droop to it. The dress is straight and clings to my small curves, ending just under my bottom. It showcases my legs, which are one of my best assets. Paired with my mask, and some beautiful heels, this will look killer.

  I step out of the room to show off the dress to Katia, but she’s not waiting for me on any of the couches outside the changing rooms. I glance around before calling out her name.

  The door to the changing room next to mine opens, and Katia steps out in an equally gorgeous dress. Thick straps with a deep v-neck that shows off her assets. The waist cuts in and the dress flares back out over her hips and ends at the top of her thighs. Her pale skin and blonde hair are the perfect backdrop for the beautiful garnet color and the dress showcases her curves perfectly.

  I laugh while admiring her and the dress she found, “It looks like we both found the one here.”

  Hearing my voice, Marla rounds the corner to check on us and lets out a small gasp. “Ladies, you look stunning. I wish that I could dress you both every day.”

  She asks if she can snap a few photos of us to place on her new website. Katia and I both eventually agree and pose around the store. We end up trying on a few more dresses, for Marla to take photos of different looks. We’re even able to encourage her to join us in a couple selfies.

  We are all giggling like maniacs and making crazy faces at the camera when Marla finally calls a wrap to our photo session. Katia and I decide it’s probably time to leave, and promise to send some of the Escorts to the shop later this week, for Marla to have more models for her website. We make our way out of the boutique having satisfied out goal and laden down with bags.

  Katia and I decide to stop and grab lunch before heading back to my apartment with our haul. We choose a local café with a small menu, but great food and a nice outdoor patio that looks out onto the street. As we finish up our lunch, enjoying the last bit of our coffee prior to leaving, I finally tell Katia about the events that happened earlier this morning, when I returned home from work. She listens quietly, but lets out a noise of disgust when I tell her about the guts left on my bed.

  After I finish talking about the rat, Katia starts in with a barrage of questions, “Is there anything you need? New bedding?” She pauses for a brief second, but continues again as I open my mouth to respond, “Are you going to get a security system? Hire a personal body guard?”

  I let out a small laugh at her last question, skipping to answer that one first, “It was gross, but I don’t think it was serious enough to hire myself a full time body guard.” Pausing to think for a second, I reply “Honestly I think it may have been a gross prank. I should probably look at getting some cameras to cover my apartment though.”

  Now that she mentioned it, I’m seriously considering getting a security system. The rat was disgusting, but it also freaks me out that someone broke into my home and touched my stuff. I have a little shiver at the thought of people in my house, going through all my things.

  “It’s not like you have anything naughty ever happen in that apartment, so you don’t have to worry about what’s caught on camera.” Katia jokes. For almost a year now, she has been referring to my apartment as ‘the nunnery’, which I find completely unfair. I almost never date and I know that’s what Katia is referring to, but honestly I don’t really have the time to date… Plus the only men I interact with are Patrons, with the exclusion Hot Cop 1 and Hot Cop 2 from this morning.

  Katia continues with her teasing, “All the scandal in your building happens downstairs.”

  I’m about to respond with a comeback referencing Katia’s own distinct lack of action outside of the club, when I see a police cruiser pull up to parallel park at the sidewalk just ahead of the café we’re at. I’m reminded that I haven’t told Katia about the cops that came to my apartment yet, I start to tell her the next part of my story involving two of Chicago’s finest, but the words die on my tongue. Hot Cop 1 and Hot Cop 2 from this morning exit the cruiser that just pulled up to the curb and walk towards the café.

  “Oh my god, those are the cops that responded to my call from this morning,” I hush out to Katia, discretely gesturing to the sidewalk behind her.

  She turns. In. The. Most. Obvious. Way.

  She looks them both up and down. Then turns back to raise her eyebrows at me and lets out a quiet whistle, “I can’t believe you didn’t start with that part of the story. You’ve probably been obsessing about them all morning, ever since they left the nunnery.”

  I don’t bother to correct her, I have NOT been obsessing about them. They barely crossed my mind.

  Instead of responding, I remain silent so we can both enjoy the view. We sip quietly on our coffee, watching the pair walk towards the café in their uniforms. Hot Cop 1 is dark, with dark hair shaved short, a skin tone slightly darker than my olive, and deep brown eyes (which you can’t really tell from here, but it’s NOT creepy that I remember them). He is slightly shorter than his partner, but has to be over six foot. Hot Cop 2 is lighter with paler skin, sandy blonde hair, and light hazel-eyes (repeat, not creepy to remember). Both look to be in their late twenties. They’re broad shouldered and muscular, which is only accentuated by the cut of their police uniforms.

  The two of them walking side by side is a picture of contrast. Likely one similar to what Katia and I look like when we walk around together, just without as much of a height difference. With Katia’s pale features and my darker ones. Katia looks like a Russian princess, while I look more like a sultry Egyptian seductress.

  “Stop staring,” I whisper-yell at Katia, while still staring myself. “I don’t wan
t them to notice me.”

  My warning turns out to be unnecessary, however, as the two cops appear to be engaged in a deep discussion and never even glance our way. They keep talking and enter the café.

  Once they’re in the building and out of sight, Katia finally turns back to face me. She scoops up an ad from the table and uses it to fan herself. Her theatrics cause me to laugh and I shake my head at her while I chuckle.

  We finish up our coffee and gather our mounds of bags in preparation of heading back to my apartment. There’s still plenty of prep work to do prior to the Masquerade and thankfully Katia has agreed to help me with most of it.

  I’m nervous about the event, but planning and hosting a good party has been something that I’ve wanted to do for a while. I’m excited for the Patrons and the Escorts to experience the Masquerade. Not only that, but it’s a momentous occasion for my business. Vice has made it through the first year and is turning a profit. This event will be another good source of revenue and provides an opportunity to acquire new Patrons.

  Chapter 3

  Jenna

  The next few days fly by and suddenly it’s time for The Event of The Year.

  Tonight, Vice’s one year anniversary is being celebrated with a Masquerade Ball. It’s all that anyone has been talking about behind the scenes in the club for almost a month, everyone is hyped up for the event.

  The invitations were sent out to all Members of the club, each Patron is allowed to bring a guest to the Masquerade, even ones that may not normally qualify for membership. It’s anticipated that we’ll have the largest turnout in a single night, since the club opened.

  To show my appreciation to the staff for their hard work this past year, the small percentage I normally keep from their tips, will not be withheld tonight. For our guests, the first two hours of the evening offers complimentary champagne and appetizers. Although our Patrons aren’t the type that need free handouts, it’s more about the spirit of appreciation than anything else. It’s like Christmas in August for all involved.