What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,2

encrusted pasties covered her nipples.

Valentine knew for a fact those diamonds were real.

“My patron saint!” the woman called out to her. “What brings you to earth this evening?”

“Helping Angel at the door,” Val called back. “Looking good, Charice!”

“Oh, and I am feeling good, Valentine.”

Bawdy laughter followed her the rest of the way down the hall. In another room, people were in their underwear, painting each others bodies in day-glo paint, and then throwing themselves at the walls. Across from it was a very intense game of dodge ball. A room at the front had a four piece string quartet, with several men in tuxedos and women in ball gowns sitting around it. In the room across from it, they were shooting B-roll shots for porn films. No actual sex, just scantily clad women dusting or vacuuming or answering phones or fighting with fax machines.

Her first time down that hallway, Valentine had been shocked. They'd been filming B-roll shots for a horror movie that night, and in the Bed Room, Charice had been letting men do lines of coke off her left breast.

“For a fee – my tits aren't cheap,” she'd assured a stunned looking Valentine.

People swore they found religion in Caché. Others said they lost their faith. People fell in love. People broke up. People had sex. People did drugs. Sometimes there was high stakes gambling. Other times there was an all-you-can-eat-buffet. One of her favorite times, they'd put on an entire production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

It was bizarre and strange and certainly not at all what she had pictured for herself when she'd moved to Chicago – but she could honestly say she loved it there.

“Hey, Angel,” she said when she finally reached the front door.

Angel was completely covered in white body paint, from head to toe. False white eyelashes blinked over her clear blue eyes, and gold glitter covered her lips. A large pair of mechanical, articulating wings were closed up behind her back. She glanced at Val, then did a double take.

“Thank god you're here,” she whined. It was the only tone of voice Valentine had ever heard her use. “I have to pee so. frickin. bad.”

“That's it?” Val laughed. “They had me come all the way up here because you need a pee break?”

“Well, I asked for you. Thought maybe I could give you a chance at some fresh air from time to time, and maybe you could give me some pointers about working downstairs – I wanna finally ask Del if I can move down there.”

Valentine smiled at the girl, then patted her on the back.

“You're sweet, Angel Baby. Go pee, and take your time.”

Val sat behind the tiny podium near the entrance. There was a large atrium beyond the front door, she knew, where a bouncer even larger than Serge sat. He would check peoples' credentials and pat them down and take any bags before allowing them through. If she was lucky, either no one would show up while Angel was gone, or only regulars. Make her job easy.

She almost laughed at the thought.

Me? Lucky?

And on cue, the intercom next to her crackled.

“Two headed in.”

Valentine stood up, slicked her tongue across her teeth to get rid of any possible lipstick stains, then smiled big. She kept her hands clasped in front of her, trying to look prim and proper, while also shoving her breasts together and higher.

Then the front door opened and two men stepped through. Both were wearing masks and hooded cloaks, and while one was wearing an expensive three piece suit, the other was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.

None of this surprised her.

“Gentlemen,” she said, stepping around the podium. “Welcome to Caché. Allow me to introduce you to our bevy of delights – I'm sure once you see what we have to offer, you won't want to leave.”

“Hey, whoa,” the guy in the hoodie stopped her. “What makes you think we haven't seen all this before?”

Valentine made her smile into a teasing one, then tapped the side of her temple. All newcomers were given the cloaks and face covers.

“Masks, gentlemen,” she whispered, then she winked at the man in the suit. She could only see him from his bottom lip down, but she was pretty sure he was smiling back at her.

Or smirking? Hard to tell. Those stupid masks.

“Ah, dammit,” hoodie-man groaned. “I knew we shouldn't have worn these stupid things, I don't wanna look like some newb.”

“It's all part of the game,” Valentine assured him as she turned and