The Pleasure Room

Chapter One

Felicity looked at the front page of the morning newspaper, glaring at a photo of Mayor Dwight Goldberg shaking hands with conservative 2016 presidential hopeful, Illinois Senator Burt Winston. Apparently, the two were in agreement concerning a few tax increases here and there and a few other endeavors. She frowned, tossing the paper aside on her desk.

“Mark my words, Allison, that bastard's dirtier than a truck-stop bathroom and twice as slimy,” Felicity declared as she twirled her ink pen between her fingers.

“Who?” her best friend and co-worker, Allison, inquired.

“The fucking mayor and all his cohorts.” Felicity handed her the morning paper.

Allison took it, looked at the photo and rolled her eyes. She scanned over the article, getting the jest of it.

“You'll get no argument out of me on that account,” Allison said. “He says one thing and does another. He goes where the money and power is, like most politicians.” She tossed the paper on her desk.

“Ugh, so true, but he's running again and I seriously don't want to see this asshole in office for another four years with no possible end in sight, do you?” Felicity looked at her friend, a wicked gleam in her sterling gray eyes.

Allison scoffed. “You act like you can do something about that.”

“Maybe I can.” Felicity's expression was one of confidence with a hint of mischievousness.

“Oh oh, I know that look.” Allison pointed at her. “That look means you're about to do something either incredibly dangerous or stupid... which when I think about it, is one in the same.”

“You know me, I'm all about uncovering the truth, getting the low-down on so-called saviors of the city.”

“Bullshit. You're ass is down here doing obits like me. We ain't uncovering a damn thing except the coffee maker,” Allison laughed.

“Yeah, but we could. That's the point.” Felicity beamed at her friend with barely restrained excitement.

Allison cocked an eyebrow. “What do you know that I don't?”

Felicity licked her bottom lip in anticipation of spilling the juicy rumor she'd heard just a week ago. The two women rolled their chairs closer together to keep the soon-to-be-revealed secret between them.

Felicity flipped her long brunette ponytail behind her back. “All right,” leaning in close, she continued. “This isn't anything concrete, okay. Meaning, I have to do an investigation to validate this. The source is kind of credible-”

“Girl, will you just get to the damn point, my back is hurting leaning over like this,” Allison fussed.

Felicity frowned. “Okay, damn. A little birdy told me... or rather a gay stripper told me that one 'esteemed' Mayor Dwight Goldberg frequents a secret members-only, fetish, sex club.”

Felicity sat back in her chair, both eyebrows arched as if to say, 'what do you think about that?'.

“And you believed him?”

Felicity shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I'm not one to immediately dismiss information just because it may seem far-fetched. And really, is it that far-fetched?”

“Kind of.”

“Noooo,” Felicity protested. “Just because he's seen going to church, has a wife and three children doesn't make the man a saint.”

“Ain't nobody saying that asshole's a saint. We all know he's not. He's a greedy liar with a power addiction. I'm just saying do you think he'd risk going to some public club, regardless of how 'secret' it's supposed to be to get off on some kink? It's still people seeing him go in and out of the place. Someone might just tell what they know... oh wait... isn't that how you're saying you got your information? I just don't think he's that stupid. Diabolical? Yes. Corrupt? Certainly. Opportunistic? You bet. But stupid? Not a chance. He'd have too much to lose.”

Felicity chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled over her friends logic. “Sometimes I hate telling you any damn thing.”

“Hey...” Allison threw her hands up in surrender. “I'm just giving you my opinion. Besides, what was your goofy ass planning on doing with this information?” She laughed at her friend.

“I'm not saying, because I don't need you trying to talk me out of it.” Felicity rolled her chair back to her desk and turn around towards her computer.

“Oh, no you don't.” Allison rose from her chair and walked over to her friend's desk, sitting on the edge with arms crossed over her plentiful bosom. “Tell me. Go on, I won't judge. Besides, you know  you're dying to tell me anyway.”

“Oh, fine, only because I don't have anyone else I'd trust with this information.” Felicity leaned  closer towards her friend. “I found out where the club is. My stripper friend has a contact who... has a friend who can get me in on their membership.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Apparently this guy's no friend of our mayor's plan to increase taxes on local business owners, or his increasing bans and added taxes on adult entertainment establishments. Needless to say,  he's not opposed to the idea of the guy never seeing a second term,” Felicity said.

“So he's going to sneak you inside the club to spy? How do you know the mayor, if this is even true, will be there?”

“I don't. But if I can go more than one time in that place, or even if I get a heads up when he does go there... I can finally get the breakout story I've been waiting for.” Felicity turned the pen in her fingers over and over as she looked at her friend.

“Has this guy ever even seen the mayor at this club?” Allison asked, her hazel eyes studying her friend.

“No. But that just might mean Mayor Goldberg's there when he's not.”

Allison frowned. “I don't know about this shit, Felicity.”

“Allie, I'm not satisfied with just doing obits and the occasional human interest, touchy-feely stories. I want the hard-hitting, gripping, truth-blasting, this-is-how-you-stomp-your-way-to-the-top, story,” Felicity reasoned.

Allison exhaled deeply. “Well, damn. If your information is right and you catch his ass in some kink club doing God-knows-what... that would be just the story to get you noticed as a serious investigative reporter.”

“Exactly.”

“So, when are you going to do this thing?”

“Tonight. That's why I'm so nervous and excited.”

“Oh great, now I'm all worried about you. I heard these kinds of clubs can be dangerous,” Allison said. “Like what if someone there wants to make you their plaything? Are you prepared for that kind of shit?”

“Your concern is unwarranted. I'm told this is a very upscale club. Not the kind where you just go into some dark, dank backroom with a sticky floor where everyone just starts grabbing your body parts like it's a free-for-all. It's hands off until permission is given. I don't plan on giving any of those guys permission to do a damn thing to me. I'm going to be there strictly for business, not pleasure.” Felicity stated with utmost certainty.

“What's this place called? I need to know the address and name in case I have to burn that motherfucker down if something happens to you.”

Felicity laughed. “You're so silly.”

“Shit, girl... I'm serious. You're my best friend in this whole world and I already don't like the idea of you going into this place. I want to know where it's at should, God forbid, anything happen. It's better to be safe than sorry. Details. Now.” Allison snatched the pen from between Felicity's fingers and a pad from her desk. She stood there, hand poised, ready to jot down the information.

Felicity sighed. She really couldn't argue with the logic once again, even though she felt she'd be safe. At least she hoped she'd be safe. “It's called
A Porterhouse Elm
. It's on Ravenswood.” She gave her the exact address. “Apparently, it's also an upscale restaurant that serves one hell of a porterhouse steak. It's been mentioned in
Zagats
as one of Chicago's Top Twenty Steakhouses. You also need an expensive diner's club membership to even eat there.” She rolled her eyes, exasperated by the pompousness of the club/restaurant.

“Uppity-ass restaurant ain't about to see my black ass there. I ain't got money like that. People got bills to pay,” Allison said, laughing.

“Shit, you and me, both,” Felicity chuckled at her friend's lively sense of humor.

Allison frowned. “What kind of name is 'A Porterhouse Elm' anyway?”

“Hell if I know. I'm guessing calling it 'Kink-O-Rama' would defeat the purpose of it being a secret members-only sex club.” Felicity pulled her cell phone from her purse, checking her text messages. “Finally!”

“What?” Allison looked at her, then at her cell phone, then back at her.

“My date for tonight just sent me a text telling me we're good to go.”

“Have you met this guy who's supposed to be taking you into this place?”

“Not face to face, unless you count Skype.”

“Jesus, Felicity. Are you trying to change your middle name to 'Danger' or something?”

“Allie, if I'm going to be a serious investigative reporter, I can't be scared to take chances. You like playing life safe, I get that. But I'm not afraid of adventure and I certainly know that it's going to take a huge set of brass balls to get noticed in this business. I'm doing what I have to do.” She sent a text back telling her new gentleman friend where she'd meet him later on that night. She looked back at her friend and sighed. “Look, you have the name of the place and all that. The guy I'm going with made me promise to keep his name out of my mouth and definitely out of the papers. But since you're so worried for my well-being, I'll tell you his name. Swear to me you won't share this.”

“Seriously? What are we, 12 and back on the school yard? Will this be a pinky swear?”

“24 and yes, I'm serious...and shut up.” Felicity smirked.

“Oh fine.” Allison held up her right hand. “I swear I will not tell anyone... unless I have to,” she added.

Felicity huffed. “Good enough, I suppose. His  name is Gregory Manners.”

Allison gasped. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

“Keep your voice down!” Felicity lightly slapped Allison's leg as she nervously looked around to see if anyone was paying them any attention. Only a few employees looked their way briefly before returning to whatever it was they were doing.

“Sorry. I just wasn't expecting that.”

“Well, now you know. So, you also know why he doesn't want the exposure.”

“Not when you own a famous, five-star, family-friendly restaurant downtown and a toy store. I'm sure you wouldn't want your name associated with a place like 'A Porterhouse Elm's' secret stash,” Allison said.

“I'm serious. I promised him that much. I need you to keep it secret, too.”

“Yeah, I get it. I won't say anything to anyone, I promise. But you better keep checking in with me tonight. Send texts and call me before and after you're done. We girls have to look out for one another.”

Felicity smiled. “I promise.”

Allison gave a quick glance at the wall clock. “Oh it's that time of day and people are hungry. Where do you want to go for lunch?”

“Hmmm, I'm thinking Chinese?” Felicity suggested.

“Works for me, I'm not particular right now. Just starving.”

“Let me send Mr. Greene this email and I'll be ready to go.”

“Are you telling him about your story?”

“Oh, God no. I wouldn't want to take the chance of him turning me down or giving my story idea to his star reporter. No doubt that bitch Danielle would be all over it. This little baby is going to stay hush-hush until I have it in the bag.”

“So what are you sending?”

“My final draft for the Animal Shelter story. 'Paws and Hearts, Big and Small'.”

“I sent in my obits section already. At least you have a story to send in, ” Allison walked back to her desk,
gathering her purse.
 

“Okay, done with that. Are you ready?” Felicity asked, turning off her computer's monitor.

“I am. Let's go.”

The two women grabbed their long trench coats, slipping them on. They braved the windy Chicago air long enough to hail a cab to P.F. Chang's.

Chapter Two