“Sirens?” I questioned.
He gave a silent nod. “This way, Miss Parisi,” Alfred said. I didn’t know his name, but this was all very Batman, so the name suited him well. Well, if under his bat suit Batman was wrapped head to toe in a gimp suit and liked to lick people’s feet after wrestling them in Jell-O.
Alfred led the way, walking a fraction ahead of me. He’d only made it a few feet when I choked on my own saliva. “Is all well, Miss?” Alfred asked, turning to face me.
“Very,” I rasped through my raw throat, trying to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head. “Please, continue.” I smiled in encouragement. Alfred resumed the lead, and the source of my choking fit swiftly came into view. Alfred’s suit looked like the typical attire of a well-trained British butler to the queen herself but, on closer inspection, the entire ass of the pants was missing, showcasing his saggy behind for all the world to see. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his slightly flat cheeks as he led me to a set of stairs and we began our descent.
I averted my eyes from the elderly man’s ass and set my sights on the sweeping marble staircase that led to the upper floors. I tried to listen for any sounds of sex or, at the very least, mood music, but all that could be heard was the clacking of my heels on the marble floor. Rich red carpet covered the landings and the center of the stairs, and an extensive number of vases filled with bouquets of flowers sent a sweet fragrance around the space. Artistic masterpieces, so big they belonged in museums, adorned the walls.
I was so busy admiring the view I tripped on a stair, grabbing the handrail for balance, and I viewed the pictures up close. They were Renaissance-style paintings of men with their heads between women’s legs, women having sex with men in all kinds of Kama Sutra positions—men with men and women with women. This was no ordinary Upper East Side town house.
Darkly stained wooden doors made a maze of the hallways. The farther we descended, the more I wondered just how big this townhouse truly was and how many people it could hold. My mind boggled at how many bottles of lube one must purchase to keep such a sexual frenzy going strong through even one night.
As we reached what seemed to be the basement, two ornate doors sat on opposite sides of the landing. These were not dark wooden doors like those in the rest of the house, but appeared to be made from pure gold, with Roman figurines carved into the illustrious panels.
Alfred led me to the right and turned the knob. “In you go, Madam.” I edged cautiously through the doorway, and a female dressed in a full-body PVC latex catsuit greeted me. I found myself standing in a black box. There was no other name for it. Both the walls and floor were jet black, illuminated only by dim red lights cascading from the ceiling like dusky twilight.
A mask covered the woman’s face. It was a full-face mask, only showing her red-painted lips. And at the top of the mask, she sported the huge ears of a rabbit. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make out her face under the lagomorphic coverage. Only her eyes. And the vivid shade of purple shining back at me proved that even eye colors were disguised by the clever use of contacts.
Anonymity, it was NOX’s key to success, after all.
“Welcome to our club. You were scouted by our resident reconnoiter to become a beloved NOX siren.” The curvaceous woman talked in a seductive, though slightly robotic, tone. “Sirens are those who have a natural sexual magnetic draw. Those who can lure and tempt our members like forbidden fruit and help make their greatest fantasies come to life.”
A siren. I had been scouted to be a siren. I didn’t know the specifics, but from the little information there was on NOX online, I wondered if a siren was a kind of sexual pet.
“Do you consent?” Bunny asked.
I closed my eyes, giving myself an internal pep talk. You can do this. You will enjoy this. You can do it.
“I consent,” I said, opening my eyes and gaining the gleaming smile of Bunny.
“Then please follow me.” Bunny moved to one of the black walls and pushed it open. A door opened to what appeared to be a changing room. If changing rooms were gothic in decor with booths made to look like medieval stone dungeons.
Bunny led me to a booth. There was no curtain on the door; it was exposed, just like I imagined my body was about to be. “This is your uniform. You will wear this each night you are in NOX. You are a siren to our members. It is the role you will play. Having sirens present is just one part of the theatrics here at NOX. Part of the fantasy we offer.” She unhooked a pair of cuffs from the wall. “Members may want to chain you to themselves if you allow it. Or tie you to the many instruments in the main room.”