The Club Ch. 06

A knock upon my apartment door startled me out of the dream-like memory I had been enjoying while writing up my report. I grumbled in frustration and pushed my chair back from the desk. I was wearing an old pair of jogging shorts and a Stanford Wrestling t-shirt. I briefly considered throwing on a pair of jeans, at least, but then checked myself. Why do I need to get dressed to run off a Jehovah's Witness? On the way to the door, I mussed my hair a bit rather than attempting to flatten it. Might as well give the crazies a good show.

I jerked the door open, my face a mask of unassailable impatience, poised to bite the head off whomever dared attempt to sell me their particular flavor of Jesus. My mouth fell open and I stared helplessly, incapable of thought.

Sylla giggled, cupping a hand over her mouth, as she eyed me head to foot. She had nearly gotten control of herself when her inspection reached my bare feet, sending her into further convulsions of barely suppressed laughter.

"Sylla!" I choked out.

"Hello, Adam Wayne," she replied, finally composing herself. "Nice of you to get dressed up for me."

"My name and my address," I mused, unsettled. She should not have been able to find that information. "Don't get me wrong, I've been wanting to see you, but..." I trailed off. The Club guards its secrets jealously, even the personal information of its lowly Rulers, the bottom rung of the male hierarchy. "How did you...?"

"Find you?" Sylla grinned impishly at me, her cheeks dimpling in a girl-next-door way that made me wish I hadn't been wearing such revealing shorts. Looking at her summoned memories of the most recent Gathering to mind. How she had sexually dominated one experienced lover after another before settling upon me. How she had ridden me endlessly while watching the challenge match between Michelle and Kara on the stage next to us. And how Candace's manipulation had caused Sylla to orgasm so powerfully that it had, in turn, caused me to climax so explosively that I was finished for the night. At that thought, blood emptied from my brain, relocating below my waistband.

I shifted my hips and shielded myself behind the door. "I seduced Annie. She runs The Club's computer networks," she answered, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly, as though it had been no more trouble than checking my Facebook profile. "You were so determined to talk to me the other night. Now's your chance." She smiled expectantly.

I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a few seconds, hiding my erection and stalling for time. "Aren't you gonna invite me in?" she prompted, playfully peeking around the door at my shorts.

I couldn't let her inside. My notes were scattered all over the office. My laptop was open on my desk with a detailed report aboutheron the screen. And even if I had been prepared, I couldn't speak openly in the apartment. The Club had bugged the office, living room, and bedroom. They had not installed cameras, luckily, or I wouldn't be able to get any work done at all.

"Let's take a walk. I need some fresh air," I said. Grabbing my keys from the hook next to the door, I backed Sylla onto the porch, pulled the door shut behind me, and guided her down the sidewalk.

Sylla took it in stride, placing a hand on my arm and allowing me to lead her down a dark, shrub-lined path between apartment buildings. She seemed content to walk silently beside me, which was fortunate, because I was having to think fast. The Club had eyes and ears everywhere. If she was being followed, they would have to keep their distance so as to not be spotted, so I needed a large open area with good visibility. But the bigger problem was Sylla herself. Or, specifically, her clothing. I had to get her out of, and away from, her clothes.

Because, you know, they could be bugged.

That gave me an idea, though. I diverted us down another path towards the center of the complex. It was late on a Tuesday, so there shouldn't be anyone else around. The evening was clear and warm, and a sudden breeze blew back Sylla's hair as we reached our destination.

She looked gorgeous. She was dressed simply: sandals, shorts, and a t-shirt which read 'Han Shot First' below a picture of Captain Solo, leaning back with his boots upon the Mos Eisley cantina table, the smoking corpse of Greedo across from him.

Unable to control myself, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against my body. I didn't kiss her the way I'd kiss one of The Club's other Members. There was nothing professional or measured in the kiss. I just kissed her the way I wanted to. Long and deep. She kissed me back the exact same way.

Long before I was finished, she gently pushed me away. "I thought you needed to talk to me about something. 'It's important.' Isn't that what you told me?"

I didn't answer, but turned my back to her as I pulled off my clothes. Leaving them in a small pile with my keys on the concrete, I dove into the cool, clear water of the swimming pool. I allowed my momentum to carry me half the length of the pool before surfacing. I turned around to coax Sylla into following me, but she was already kicking off her sandals and stepping out of her own clothing. Grinning, I swam to the opposite edge of the pool and vaulted over the wall into the large, round jacuzzi.

By the time Sylla eased her glistening, naked body over the wall and slipped into the hot tub, I had cranked the jets up to full blast. No one farther than a few feet away would be able to hear our conversation. And there was no one within sight, anyway. I relaxed, draping my arms over the sides, and watched as Sylla approached.

She wasted no time in closing the distance between us, pressing her naked body against mine and taking my cock in her hands. It sprang to full attention and I drew a deep, shuddering breath, eager to be inside of her again. But she paused, stroking my length idly and staring into my eyes. "Adam Wayne," she mused aloud, seeming to taste the name I had chosen for myself. "Your parents have an interesting sense of humor," she observed. "But how did they know you would grow up to look like Batman?"

"I don't look like Batman," I insisted testily, embarrassed that I had chosen the name, an amalgamation of Adam West and Bruce Wayne, for that exact reason. "But I guess that explains why you called me 'Master Wayne' at the Gathering," I said. "I couldn't figure out how you knew my real name." My real name. The lie felt heavy on my lips. My whole life was a lie. They came easily to me. But it felt wrong to lie to Sylla, even out of necessity.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice. The evening was going to be full of lies and manipulations.

With a sigh and a soft, slow kiss, Sylla released me from her grasp and moved to sit across from me in the jacuzzi. She fixed me with an expectant gaze.

How to begin with a woman like Sylla? How do you manipulate a woman who can twist others to her will as easily as the rest of us tie our shoes? The simple answer, of course, is by challenging her. By telling her not to do precisely what you want her to do. I took a deep breath and began.

"The Club is a bad place, Sylla, filled with dangerous people. You need to get out and get far away before it's too late."

Sylla's reaction surprised me with its ferocity. "Are you insane?" she demanded. "For the first time in my entire life, I've found a place where I belong and you want me to walk away?" She glared at me, seeming ready to climb out of the spa and out of my life.

I raised my hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just being honest with you," I replied, the irony not at all lost on me. "There are a lot of things you don't know about it. Who the other Members are. Where their money comes from." I didn't know all the answers myself. I had more questions than answers, to be sure.

She stared at me for a long time before nodding, her face softening by degrees. "Fine. You've warned me. But I'm not leaving. And that's not why you wanted to talk to me, so how about you get on with it?"

The hook was baited. Now to cast it into the water.

"I had to warn you because what I'm going to ask of you is going to put you into danger. Real danger. More danger than you're already in. And I'm not gonna ask if there is any chance that you're willing to get out while you can."

Sylla was already leaning forward, looking into my eyes with interest. "Ask me," she said, her words barely above a whisper.

The bait was taken. Time to reel her in with a whopper of a story.

"They have my sister." I dropped my eyes and stared at the churning water for several long moments, my face a mixture of pain, loss, and anger. When I looked back up, she was staring at me with concern. I heaved a deep sigh, making a show of gathering my resolve. I stared off into the distance as I began my tale, not wanting to look her in the eye as I performed my well-rehearsed speech.

"I am very smart and physically gifted," I began. "My father was a nuclear physicist at CERN and my mother a professional ballet dancer with a PhD in psychology. I grew up in a loving, nurturing environment, excelling in academics and sports alike. I graduated top of my high school class after breaking every meaningful school record in track, wrestling, and swimming. I attended Stanford University, where I was a four-time All American wrestler and graduated summa cum laude as a pre-med student. After finishing medical school at Harvard, I spent 6 years as a neurosurgeon at a hospital in New York."

I stole a glance at Sylla. She was entranced. I looked directly into her eyes as I continued.

"I'm telling you this so that you will fully appreciate what I mean when I tell you that compared to my little sister, I am a blithering mongoloid. If I am gifted, then April is a gift. She excelled at everything she put her mind to. At 12, she taught herself to speak Finnish fluently because of a Monty Python skit she liked. At 15, she made the US National Diving Team and could have qualified for the Olympics, but she had already moved on to other interests. The next year, she received three patents for her developments while interning at the cyclotron laboratory at Berkeley. You get the point.

"April never much talked to me about sex, presumably because I'm her older brother and I refused to acknowledge that she ever took part in such an act. In point of fact, I think I expressly forbid it on several occasions and threatened to personally eviscerate anyone who touched her." Sylla smiled politely at my attempt at levity. But she very soon grew serious again. She could see where this was going.

"Last year, when she couldn't hold back any longer, she told me about this amazing sex club she had found, filled with people who were actually as good as she was. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't like to think about it." I stopped, dropping my eyes and wallowing in self-loathing. I was deep in character.

Sylla moved next to me and placed her hand on my arm. "It's ok," she told me. "I understand."

I nodded gratefully and forced myself to continue. "We fought. I said...a lot of very stupid things." I paused and took a deep breath. "I told her that she was wasting her potential acting like a slut and that she needed to start behaving like an adult." My voice broke and I fought to blink back the emotion. Sylla looked away, feigning interest in her manicure as I got myself under control.

"We didn't speak for months. She tried to call me a few times, but I didn't answer. She never left a message. Not until the very end." I screwed my eyes shut, furious with myself for being such an ass. For not being there for the one person I cared about more than any other when she needed me most. Sylla stroked my chest and laid her head upon my shoulder, comforting me with her closeness.

"What did the message say?" she asked.

I shook my head in frustration. "It didn't make any sense. She was crying. Hysterical. I could barely understand a word she said, even after listening to it a thousand times." I pounded a fist against the cement rim of the jacuzzi. Sylla took my hand between hers and held it tightly, preventing me from any further potentially damaging outbursts. I hung my head and continued, "She said she was in over her head. She said she was scared and she wanted me to come get her. To come save her."

Sylla raised my chin with a finger and stared into my eyes. A tear rolled down my face and I made no effort to wipe it away. "I didn't listen to her voice-mail for 6 weeks, Sylla. By the time I got here, there was no trace of her. There's not even any record that she ever lived here. Nothing."

Realization dawned on Sylla's face and she backed away a few inches. "You infiltrated The Club," she whispered. "You're...investigating them."

I nodded. We studied each other for several long, silent minutes. I could only imagine the thought process going on in her mind. She felt a connection to the Club that she had never experienced before. And I was compelling her to betray them. I was asking her to risk everything to help a man she didn't even know. I'm a great liar, but my story couldn't withstand close scrutiny. I steeled myself. This was the moment of truth. "Have you decided whether or not I'm the enemy?" I asked.

Sylla looked at me like I was a blithering mongoloid. "Of course you're not the enemy and of course I'll help you. What's the plan?"

Mission accomplished. I grinned at her, my first honest emotion since I began my tale. Instead of answering, I pulled her against me. She didn't resist. This time when we kissed there was a tangible force pulling us together, almost an electric current. We shared a secret. We were co-conspirators, facing a powerful, dangerous enemy.

Our kissing grew frantic. Our hands exploring, caressing, and squeezing. I was back to a fully aroused state in moments. All thoughts of The Club and my fictional sister evaporated from my mind as the intensity of our foreplay grew. I wanted her so badly I was shaking in anticipation. I trailed kisses from her lips to her neck and then down her chest. When my mouth reached the level of the water, I lifted her body so I could take a nipple fully into my mouth. Sylla felt nearly weightless in the water and I began to guide her body to a very specific position atop me.

"Easy, Batman," Sylla laughed, pushing me away and returning to sit opposite from me. "We have plans to discuss. We canconsummateour arrangement after." With a playful smirk she laid her smooth legs atop my own, stretching her toes to rub along the shaft of my cock. I made an unmanly yelping sound and took one of her feet in my hands, massaging her instep while I attempted to remember who I was and what plans this goddess could possibly be referring to.

"Ok," I said, stalling for time as I organized my thoughts. I did have a plan, actually. It was just hard to concentrate while the majority of my blood was south of my waistline. "Step 1 is an information exchange. You're new to The Club, but Members have access to information that Rulers can't see. Despite all the research I've done, there are still things I don't know that you can find out. On the other hand, I've been gathering information on the other Members for months. I can answer a lot of questions you might have." Sylla's face lit up at that.

"Step 2 is moving up in the rankings. I know that sounds easy to you, but it isn't. Each Member presents her own set of challenges. Every single one of these women is very sexually talented, and you won't be able to best many of them on your natural talent alone. I can give you intel on each Member to help you prepare for your Challenges. Moving up to the next tier will give you access to a lot more of the Club's secrets. Likewise, I need to qualify to become one of the Powers. And I'd like your help preparing for it."

"How does that work exactly?" Sylla favored me with a mock expression of horror. "You don't have to defeat the Twins, do you?"

I laughed. "Thankfully, no."

Sylla feigned relief. "Good, cause I don't think you could take 'em."

I splashed water at her. "To be honest, I'm not certain how Angels get promoted to the next tier. They say that we'll be called up when we're ready. There is no interaction between Angels of different tiers. The other Rulers say that promotion happens without warning, but it's usually obvious who is next in line." I gave Sylla a sidelong glance, studying her reaction. "They say Samael is going to be next."

Sylla nodded immediately and jealousy twisted through my gut. "He's definitely better than any of the ones I had at the Gathering." Her eyes grew wide as she realized what she had said. "Except for you, I mean!" she blurted. "Well, we didn't exactly finish. And then there was that last one..." She trailed off, her expression growing angry, resentful.

"He's called Sariel," I muttered. "He's a Virtue." Seeing the confusion on her face, I explained. "From top to bottom, the Angel tiers are Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, and Rulers."

Sylla rolled her eyes and waved my explanation away. "Tier 3. Gotcha."

"Anyway," I continued, "There is another way to advance to...the nexttier. It's rare, but it has happened. I could challenge one of the Members. If I defeat her, I move up to the tier above her."

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Sylla assured me. "I can train you to defeat Annie in no time. I could even convince her to make it look good." She winked at me conspiratorially but I was already shaking my head.

"Donna has to approve the Challenge, and going after the lowest ranked Member would be seen as poor form. And there's another consideration," I added. "When Members lose a challenge, nothing is at stake but their ranking. If an Angel challenges a Member and fails, they are banned from The Club."

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it," Sylla told me. "I'll whip you into shape in no time. You'll be a goddamn sexual Tyrannosaurus, just like me, and Members will quake at your mere name. What is your silly angel name again?"

"It's Leliel, and it's not silly," I said, my tone defensive. "Leliel means 'Night' in Hebrew and this particular Angel smote all kinds of people in the Talmud." Sylla snorted. "Did you just make a Predator reference?" I asked, distracted.

She ignored my question, the excitement clear on her face. "We're gonna do this. Together. We're gonna make our way to the very top of The Club. And we'll find your sister. I promise."

"I wish I had your confidence," I admitted.

Sylla stood in the center of the spa and struck a Wonder Woman pose, hands on her hips. The water ran in rivulets down her body and I stared, enraptured by her beauty. "I am the 33rd most sexually powerful woman in this entirecity, Leliel," she boasted, grinning. "No power in the 'verse can stop me."

That should have struck a chord with me, given my story, but all my attention was on her perfect breasts and the droplet of water hanging from one delicious nipple. Sylla laughed and splashed water at me before lowering herself back into the water, breaking the spell.

It was time to drop a pair of bombshells on Sylla. "Two things," I told her. "First, you're not ranked 33rd in The Club, you're ranked 32nd. Monique is not coming back." Sylla smiled wickedly. I made a mental note to get back to the subject of Monique later. "Furthermore, you're not just the 32nd most sexually powerful woman in the city, Sylla. The Club's recruitment is global. As far as anyone knows, you're the 32nd most sexually powerful woman in, well, the world."

I watched Sylla carefully as she absorbed this information. I expected shock, possibly. Or wild celebration. But she only nodded slowly, as though I had merely confirmed something she had always known, deep down inside. But I could now sense an air of gravitas about her, as though my words had forced her to accept a greater responsibility than she was used to.