I spend more time than I expected picking out an outfit for this party. I have a few high-end dresses, but nothing feels elegant enough for the kind of event that Hannah described. Finally, I settle on a deep blue evening gown. I take a long, hot shower, scrubbing every inch of my skin. Hannah told me to wear something sexy. While the dress may be a little too formal to qualify, I make sure to pick out the most over-the-top bra and panty set that I own. The most expensive, too. I don’t know why the smallest amount of fabric has to come with the highest price tag, but these cover only the bare minimum of my assets. Not that I’m planning on showing them to anyone. In fact, nobody has seen me in these since I bought them six months ago. But, I have found that wearing something sexy underneath helps me to feel sexy and powerful. And tonight, I need all the help I can get.

My makeup is nearly finished when I get a text from Hannah saying she’s almost here. I add a few last-minute touches and then grab my bag and head downstairs. Hannah pops out of the cab just as it pulls up to the curb and waves me over.

“You look amazing!” she says, as if she is unaware of how dramatically she outshines me. I feel good about how I look, but it is hard not to have some self-doubt when standing next to her, but Hannah’s enthusiasm is genuine and it makes me feel a touch more confident.

That confidence disappears when the cab pulls up to the address.

It is a warehouse.

An abandoned warehouse.

I’m about to walk into a horror movie.

“Are you ladies sure this is the right place?” the cab driver asks with some concern in his voice. The concern isn’t misplaced, this looks like anything but the location of a swanky party. But Hannah is entirely unperturbed.

“Yes, this is it,” she says breezily. She turns to me and says quietly, “It was similar last month. Different place, but same thing – totally unmarked, underground. Just wait, you won’t be disappointed.”

She pays the cabbie and steps out of the car. I follow. I have been friends with Hannah for a long time and I think I would know if she had joined some crazy cult and was bringing me along to be a human sacrifice, so I am pretty sure there is nothing to worry about. That doesn’t stop me from worrying, though.

I follow Hannah into the warehouse. Our high heels ring against the pitted concrete, echoing in the cavernous space. An arrow on the floor points out the path. It is painted in the same purple color as the invitation. That is some relief, at least we are in the right place. A series of arrow-marked winding turns leads us to a wall of curtains. They are heavy, like stage curtains, and block the entire hallway.

The fabric rustles and a tall, broad man in a black suit steps into the hall. He is wearing an earpiece and carrying a clipboard, must be a security guard.

“Names?”

Hannah answers for both of us and hands the impassive doorman/security guard our invitations. He looks them over carefully. He seems to be looking for hidden marks or some other authentication that was not readily apparent. Finally satisfied, he steps aside and pulls the curtain apart, waving us forward. I stay on Hannah’s hip as we walk through a tunnel of velvet curtains. It is dark, lit only by a few strands of soft lights. The tunnel turns left and opens up into a huge space. I come to a stop, shocked and dumbfounded.

I can’t believe this is in the dingy, broken-down warehouse we just entered. I am standing in one of the most elegant rooms I have ever been in. The same purple drapery surrounds an area at least one hundred feet on each side. Crystal chandeliers hang down from the ceiling far above. The ceiling itself, which I’m sure was, at one point, raw concrete, is covered in hanging white fabric. A fully stocked bar is surrounded by a small crowd on one side and everywhere there are tall tables, little groups of couches, even chaise lounges big enough to serve as beds.

The center of the room is dominated by a round stage. It is chest high and surrounded by high-backed chairs. There must be some kind of performance later on. I notice speakers hanging in the corners of the room, so maybe there will be music. I am not much of a dancer, and I am pretty sure I can’t even attempt to while I’m wearing these heels, but music would be fun.

The room is not full, but Hannah and I are far from the first ones here. I stay close to Hannah and take a look at the other guests. I wonder how many of them got strange invitations laid against their door. I have to admit, Hannah did not exaggerate. Everyone here is really hot. The crowd is mostly men. They are all dressed alike, some version of a tailored suit in gray or blue. Most look to be in their thirties, though the few with gray in their hair are still fit and good looking. There are a number of other women, too. Some are clearly part of a couple, but others seem to be on their own. They are all dressed in evening gowns. I am happy to see that I have chosen an appropriate outfit. I hate being over or underdressed for an event.

I am just starting to feel comfortable and building up my courage to go join in a conversation when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to find a large, muscular man in the same black suit and earpiece as the man at the door.

“Ms. Taylor?”

I nod.

“Please come with me.”