Free The Architect by C.A. Bell Page B

flutters at his kind and naughty words. My reply is short and sweet.
    Thank you. I’ll see you soon. X
    I call for a taxi as I stand at my lounge window.
    A friendly female voice answers. “LD Taxis, how can I help?”
    â€œHi, I’d like to book a taxi for eight-thirty, please.”
    â€œWhat’s the name and address?” she inquires.
    â€œIt’s Ruth, and the address is 22 Millennium Road.”
    â€œAnd where is it you’re going?”
    Not wanting to tell her the name of the club in case she knows of it, I fluster as I try to remember the street name, “Umm... Clover Road.”
    Her tone doesn’t change. “Okay, that’s all booked for you.”
    I promptly thank her and hang up. Then I remember the glass of red I left upstairs. Retrieving it, I consume what’s left.
    My taxi arrives right on time. The driver honks the horn, hurrying me along.
    Once in the back of the vehicle, my legs start to shake, and my stomach begins to somersault. Why am I doing this? I’ve never done anything like this before . The kinkiest place I’ve ever been to is Ann Summers, and some of that shocked the hell out of me.
    I don’t know what’s happening to me. Since meeting Heath I feel as though I am finally living. Finally coming to terms with the loss of my father, and finally becoming a woman and experiencing life. Heath has stirred emotions and feelings inside me I never knew I had. It’s as though he has awakened me to what life can be, and the fun you can have.
    The taxi stops at the side of the unknown road and I pay the driver. Am I here? I don’t see it. I don’t ask the driver where it is, I’m not brave enough. Instead, I step out and inspect the street as the cab moves away sharpish for his next fare.
    Paranoid that I look either lost or suspicious, I take out my phone and pretend to be doing something, while I search the tall buildings. The place is worryingly quiet, given it’s in the middle of the city. Uneasy about being here alone, I walk towards the end of the street, where I can see a purple neon light reflected in a glass office building. As I click over in my black heels the reflection becomes clearer, and I see the name Fantasia back to front. Okay, this is it. Just keep walking. Don’t loiter; walk in with purpose and no one will bother you.
    Pushing open the glass door, I step into a dark corridor and hear muffled music. Reaching the end of the walkway, I see two women dressed in long leather dresses. They have short black spiky hair, and are talking to who must be the receptionist. I stand behind them and wait.
    The woman on the left of the duo turns, gives me the once over, and smiles. “Here for the dungeons?”
    I swallow hard. “No. I-I’m just here to watch.” As soon as I finish the sentence I know how it must have sounded and cringe inside.
    â€œReally? Well, we’ll be there if you fancy it.” The woman winks, and her friend turns around and smiles at me. Then they both thank the guy behind the desk and head through the black swing doors to the left.
    â€œCan I help?” the guy asks, as I stand here gobsmacked at the proposition, and trying to sneak a peek of what’s behind the dark doors.
    Stepping forward, I place my hands on the cream counter. “Yes. Umm...” I bite my lip, not knowing what to say. “It’s my first time here, and I’m not sure what I’m meant to do, really.”
    He smiles and lifts his pierced eyebrows at me. “That’s fine, I’ll talk you through it. But first you will need to become a member. So can I have your name, please?”
    â€œYes, it’s Ruth.”
    â€œAnd your surname?”
    Grudgingly I tell him, “Watson.”
    He requests my phone number, which I make up, and then my address, which I also make up. My email and age I give truthfully.
    â€œThere we are.” He clicks the computer mouse.