The Duke's Affair

XX

Henry went straight to the club, taking Marcus with him. If they were going to redevelop it together, they may as well have one final night there together, enjoying it. And from Henry's point of view, the drunker Marcus was, the more likely he was to keep his word. The deal was sealed in alcohol and honour.

They left their coats in the cloakroom and fixed the masks on their faces. The club was quiet because it was nearly Christmas, and the general clientele obviously felt their conscience more harshly at this time of year, which amused Henry. Why difference did it make what time of year you came down here?

They took a seat at one of the booths and ordered drinks from a waitress that Henry felt was staring at him in a peculiar way. Not that he could be sure of course, her mask covered most of her face. For a while they sat watching the escorts dancing, their bodies curling and twisting, the diamanté of their costumes twinkling like stars, showing the way in the darkness.

When the drinks arrived Marcus stared at his and said, "What will we do with the evidence then? Destroy it?"

Henry pressed the tip of his finger to the rim of his glass and moved it round in a slow circle. "Best not. We might need it someday."

"And your suggestion is?"

"We put it in a private bank. And it can only be removed with consent from both of us. That way you won't be able to betray me." Henry winked.

"Henry -"

"Don't say anything. I don't want to regret bargaining with you." Henry held Marcus' gaze for a moment before glancing out into the room. "Do you want to get a private room?" he asked, as he sipped on his champagne. "I know you aren't a member anymore, but I won't charge you. On the house," he said, raising his glass and chinking it against Marcus'.

"I don't think so. I'm happy just to sit here. Savour the atmosphere." Marcus' nose wrinkled as he raised his glass to his lips, assaulted by the bubbles.

Henry nodded and sat back against the leather of the banquette, watching the way the strobe lighting flickered on Marcus' ugly features. It would hardly be fair to inflict that body on one of the girls tonight, he thought. Henry felt the vibrations of the music through the floor and the seat. This place was alive, vibrant. He would be sorry to see it go, and it pained him, knowing how his father would have despised him for closing it down. So many memories. So many life-changing events had happened here for him. "Do you mind if I take a walk?" he asked.

Marcus nodded and said: "Go ahead."

Henry downed his champagne and slid along the banquette and stood up. The music made him want to dance, but this wasn't quite the place for it. Besides, there was no one here he wanted to dance with and it made him sad to think that Lauren wasn't here. Where was she? Holed in up in some horrid flat in Brixton. He had wanted to give her so much more than that. And tomorrow, he remembered, she was going back to Essex to spend Christmas with her family.

Several of the escorts pawed at him, offering themselves to him as he strolled across the dance area, where the women danced with each other, trying to suck him in, to get him to join them. Henry shook them off, but one in particular was rather more forceful and he found she had hold of his shirt in her hands and was pulling him towards her. He pulled away, but his resistance only incentivised her and she tugged harder, moving closer to him.

Suddenly her hands were everywhere, her mask tickling his neck as she ran her tongue over his skin. And Henry wondered why he should resist. One last time. He was single. He was the Chairman of the club, and this woman, her body flawless, her legs long and her breasts full, was offering herself to him. Why not?