Chapter 20
Maynard
Fuck Fridays.
Since Claire left they were always the worst. We did a lot together most days but it was Fridays that I pulled out all the stops. She didn't have class the following day so we could sleep in and be lazy. And Sundays she dedicated to homework, and her part time job.
I looked over a small mountain of financial printouts. There never seemed to be an end to it. How in the hell did Bianca deal with all this? The sooner I could get her back in as CEO the better.
Getting a hold of Bianca had been like pulling crocodile teeth. She still wouldn't talk to me directly, but I was finally able to schedule an appointment with her through her assistant. It wasn't much but it was a start. The hard part would be convincing Bianca that I wasn't that same selfish, flippant asshole that I had been for the last fifteen years.
How could I convince her that I'd really changed?
“That's it, I'm done looking at this shit for one night.” I pushed myself away from the table. My eyes were beginning to cross from staring at numbers and reports all day. That was the other thing about being a CEO that I couldn't stand. If I wasn't in a goddamn meeting I was reviewing other people’s work.
If I was honest with myself, I would recognize that I didn't have to drown myself in all this bullshit to the degree that I had been. I was punishing myself for Claire. If I stayed busy I could keep her out of my mind.
I checked my watch: it was nearly eleven. I needed to get out of my apartment. I was becoming a social recluse. I had every reason to go to my friend's thirtieth birthday party.
My gut told me that this was a terrible idea, but why did that matter? I splashed some water over my face in the bathroom. I felt older. My blue eyes looked a little dimmer than they had a few months earlier.
Was that even possible?
“One drink.” I warned my reflection in a stern tone. I chuckled realizing how absurd it was to be talking to myself. The familiar mischievous face in the mirror replied, “How much trouble can you really get in?”
That was a dangerous question.
It was half past eleven when I walked past a hideously long line that led to the Valley Chez. I was quickly allowed in with barely a nod. Everyone knew that I was still the prodigal son of NYC. No hotspot in the city had its doors locked to me. It made me feel like the old me again.
Music and neon pummeled my chest just like I remembered. Ant and I used to come here back in its heyday when this was the place for NYC elite. The three-story bar and dance hall had some updated flourishes, but I still knew the place like the back of my hand.
I used to love this place because of its open glass floor design and its offshoot private rooms. While dancing at the top level, I could see all the way down to the first floor entrance. After tearing it up, I used to take a few girls into one of the private rooms and make the party more intimate.
The place was massive: five elevator pillars ringed each level of the dance hall column in the center. Each floor had a bold hedonistic theme that got more intense as you went higher in the building. I stepped into the correct elevator and told the lift operator to take me to the top floor. I hadn't spoken with him before swinging by, but I just knew that's where Ant would be.
It was only after he recognized me that the operator complied with my request. Each level had an additional layer of exclusivity. Very few people were allowed to the top. The glass floor was tinted in a way that you could only see through it if you were looking down. Anyone looking up would see only their reflection; it was designed after the two-way glass in interrogation rooms.
The first floor was called Play, it was set up like most other clubs. There was at least one DJ, pulsing cascades of refracted lights and usually bubbles or confetti that rained down over people. It was the loudest, sweatiest, hottest room in the building and it always had the most people.
The second floor was called Domination. Every night there was a different fetish and they were always wild. They had everything from transvestites and bondage to amputee worship and people that dress up in furry costumes. You really had to know what you were getting into before you stepped foot on that floor.
The last floor went unnamed. It was only rented out to one party a night and was whatever fantasy you wanted it to be. When the elevator doors opened I was greeted by two scantily-clad blond women. They wore nearly see through sheer red lingerie. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what Ant's fantasy was.
My parties were always known for their diversity and extravagance, whereas Ant typically went with a very specialized theme and pushed it to its extreme. He was very meticulous with the details. Not every woman was wearing lingerie; some of them went topless, and others wore outfits you'd expect to see in overly produced porn films. Most of them had the college-girl-gone-wild vibe to them.
“Maynard!” Ant shouted from halfway across the floor. The music wasn't nearly as loud here as it was on the other two levels. Ant wore a crushed red velvet robe and dark slacks, it was reminiscent of what Hugh Hefner used to wear. “You made it!”
“You don't hit this milestone too often,” I smiled faintly and took a glass of champagne off the tray of a server dressed like a Playboy bunny. I was right, Ant was going for the dated Playboy theme.
“Cheers.” I held up the glass to him as he came over. He clinked my glass and we both took a sip. One drink, I reminded myself.
I had decided to stay until midnight then head out. Women and drugs were everywhere. This was exactly the kind of party I used to love, but for some reason I couldn't get into the scene. I'd been to so many functions to know when something felt off. There was an uncomfortable vibe in the air.
I was over-thinking things. There was nothing wrong with the atmosphere. I was just much more sober now than I was whenever I came to these things in the past. I forced myself to relax and enjoy the time away from my apartment.
A gigantic six-foot tall cake had been pushed into the center of the room. There were a dozen or so lit candles around each of the seven layers. The design was intricate and beautiful, but it had to have been fake. It was just too damn big not to be.
The lights dimmed and all fifty or sixty guests gathered in the main room for the happy birthday song. When the song ended the top of the cake crumbled away and the stripper burst out and repeated the last chorus.
I was partly wrong about the cake. It wasn't fake, at least not completely. I'd seen this gag done before but never this messy. The woman stepped through the front of the giant pastry, she was completely nude and covered in cake and frosting.
Ant quickly dropped to his knees and began eating and licking the dessert from the stripper’s pussy. I took a step back as other guests began joining in on the feast. The human pastry platter giggled as she embraced the groping hands and hungry mouths. I could only imagine how much she'd have been paid for this.
Not everyone joined in of course. Others, like myself, stood back and watched the spectacle instead. Ant beckoned me to jump in but I politely waved him off. I didn't mind the display, I just wasn't hungry for anything they were offering.
Eventually Ant broke away from the ravenous pack and walked back toward me. He peeled off his robe which was covered in the multicolored sugary confection and left it on the floor.
“Let’s have a drink in private and catch up.” Ant patted me on the back then raised a hand toward another serving bunny. She quickly came over with a towel and a fresh robe. He cleaned himself then held his arms out. She slipped it on to him. “Don't look at me like that!”
I shrugged in response, not bothering to disguise the disappointment in my look. Anthony was high on something, probably coke. So much for being clean.
“Hey, man. It's my last hurrah, the dying fuck of my twenties!” Anthony yelled and everyone in earshot cheered. Then he turned back to me expectantly. “Cut me some slack.”
Who was I to judge? I'd never been a fucking role model and it was his birthday after all...
“You have any goals now that you're taking things more seriously?” I changed the subject.
“Yes, actually.” Ant looked at me, smiling. He pulled back the heavy curtain cloth that separated the plush, private alcove from the main chamber. “My father had a dying request. I plan on seeing that honored.”
Inside was a semicircle couch, a coffee table that held candies, a covered fruit platter and a bucket of iced champagne. Above that, on the opposite wall was a massive, curved wall-monitor that oscillated between the live camera feeds of each level's dance hall. It was a very voyeuristic experience.
“What was the request?” I asked, sitting down opposite him.
“Hold on a sec,” Ant riffled through the chilled bottles on the table and frowned. “I gotta grab us something less romantic. You want a beer?”
“Sure,” I said. I'd have turned him down, but I wanted to know what his dad asked of him. How had he not told me about this until now?
Ant nodded then disappeared behind the curtain.
It was wild being back here after so long. I had toyed with the idea of bringing Claire here while we were together but had ultimately decided against it. I wanted to build new experiences with her, not take her through my greatest hits.
Another big part of it was that I had outgrown this scene. Claire had shown me how to enjoy simple experiences and make the most of every moment. I didn't feel like I had to constantly one-up myself anymore with extreme stunts and crazier orgies. There was a charm in not blurring through every situation at breakneck speeds.
Through the monitor, I saw one of the hottest Hollywood actors get pinned to the wall by two girls; they took turns blowing him. Part of me avoided these parties because I thought I’d fall right back into my old lifestyle, but seeing it firsthand made me realize just how little I missed it.
The only thing I missed was Claire.
I finished my drink, setting it down on the table, then checked my watch. It was a few minutes to midnight, I wasn't staying much longer. If Ant didn't come back soon I'd have to go find him and let him know I was leaving. I was hoping that this party would take my mind off Claire, but it just made me think about her more. It was quickly becoming unbearable.
I reached for the remote and was about to turn the monitors off when my attention was pulled toward the rustling curtains. Good. Ant was back. I was eager to get out of here.
“’Allo?” An unfamiliar French accent asked from behind the curtain. “Monsieur Cooper?”
Two attractive women dressed as sexualized French maids sauntered into the room. Once they saw that I was who they were looking for their faces lit up. I knew right away that they were models. They were probably hired by the club to serve as private entertainment for the guests.
One of the women slipped behind the other and tugged at the back of her corset. The front woman feigned blushing as the garment fell away. She looked at me with pursed lips, while brushing the back of her hand down her exposed chest and stomach.
The other woman stripped in a similar way. They crawled up to me on either side of the couch, wearing only the maid hat, a pair of sheer black panties, garter straps and six-inch heels.
It was every man's dream come true.
“I'm flattered, ladies, truly,” I held a hand out to both of them, slowing their advance. “But I'm going to have to pass tonight.”
I wasn't that same man, not anymore. Claire had ruined me in a lot of ways.
They looked at me, confused, then giggled to each other and began in again. They didn't speak English. That wasn't a first for me. Seduction was a universal language and I was fluent in that.
Why was I going to pass on this, exactly? I suddenly became angry with myself.
Why couldn't I get over her?
I did everything right and Claire still dumped me! Afterward I still reached out to her. I tried to fix things and reach some sort of compromise with her, but she refused to get back to me. I hadn't heard anything from her in months.
She obviously didn't want to be with me anymore. I was punishing myself for someone else's decision. I did everything I could to make it work. What was I holding out for?
One of the girls loosened my tie while the other unclasped the button on my pants. I should fuck the shit out of both of these girls like I used to. I'm Maynard Cooper, billionaire, celebrity and sex god!
The girl that loosened my tie kissed up my neck and was about to place her mouth on mine when I pulled away. No kissing on the mouth. My three rules immediately snapped back into my head.
What about your rules? The memory of Claire's soft voice whispered into my soul.
I don't need them anymore.
“Fuck!” I cried out, frustrated. Even if she was really gone from my life this still felt too wrong.
I couldn't do this. Not yet.
The fake maids startled backward a bit, concern and fright was plastered across their faces. It was only then that I looked at them closely. They were both models but beyond that they shared a very similar look. I didn't realize that before. I thought about the two girls at the elevator entrance, they too had short blond hair, pale complexions and... green eyes.
My skin began to crawl. Did they all look like that?
I was here for Ant and hadn't been paying much attention to the women in the club. I checked the monitor again to see if my theory was right.
Ant was surrounded by women but he paid them no attention. He stood in the middle of the dance hall looking at his phone, then he looked right at the camera feed that fed into the monitors in the private alcoves and smiled.
How did he know I was watching?
Then it dawned on me.
I was such a fucking idiot!
I jumped to my feet and scanned the room until I found what I hoped wasn't there. To the side of the monitor was a small camera lens. It wasn't a coincidence that those girls just wandered in here. He sent them. Anthony had been recording me.
This had all been some sort of fucked up set up!
I glanced at the screen again but Anthony was gone. I fastened my pants clasp and quickly left the room. As much as I wanted to find that asshole and beat answers out of him, I knew I wasn't going to be able to, at least not tonight. This club was too big, I'd never find him.
I needed to get out of here before I fucked up my new reputation more than I already had. This was going to be all over the news. On my way out, with every woman I passed, I was assaulted by the obvious. A chilling rage radiated from me that kept everyone away.
I had been so wrong about Anthony's birthday theme, it wasn't Playboy or porn.
It was Claire themed.