He took a moment to compose himself and prepare for what lay beyond the next curtain. By now, the soothing, comforting smell of the candles had disappeared and been replaced with the smell of decadence, sweat, and perfume.

‘Fuck it. Here goes nothing.’

Tentatively, he pushed the velvet curtain aside with one hand and stepped through. Once on the other side, the sound of music increased tenfold. It was like stepping into another building, pounding, pulsating. He entered in the middle of a corridor. A small signpost immediately in front of him offered two options: “The Room” to the left, and “The Rooms” to the right. Tomek didn’t need to know any more to understand which one was which. But before he could make a decision, a large painting hanging from the wall above the signage caught his attention.

‘It’s called The Garden of Earthly Delights.’

The voice took him by surprise. He turned to see Rachel behind him, emerging from the curtain.

‘The fuck did you get through so quickly?’

‘Someone saved me.’

‘No lady in shining armour?’

She shook her head, disappointed. ‘Just some bloke wearing a traffic cone costume.’

Tomek stifled the snigger, then turned to the painting on the wall. ‘You’re a fan of art?’

‘No. I just know about it, that’s all. The same way you might know about fixing toilets, I know about art.’

‘Sexist. You could have assumed I might know about gardening, or doing make-up.’

‘Now who’s sexist?’

Tomek nudged her in the shoulder, then pointed to the painting. ‘Go on then. The Garden of Earthly Delights…’

‘By a bloke named Hieronymus Bosch in the fifteen hundreds. It’s called a triptych, which means it’s split into three sections. For this one, each section depicts a different move closer to hell. On the left is the Garden of Eden, where everything’s pure and clean. Then you have The Garden of Earthly Delights, where everyone’s naked and appears to be fucking each other surrounded by a load of fruit, and on the right you’ve got his depiction of hell, where things just get a bit weird.’

‘It’s all a bit weird.’

‘There’s been much scholarly debate whether the central panel is a moral warning or a depiction of paradise lost.’ The voice was a deep baritone. Familiar. Then a figure emerged, wearing a mayoral outfit, complete with chains and a cloak draped over his shoulders. On his head, he wore an Italian Renaissance hat with an Arlecchino face mask over his eyes. Tomek recognised him immediately. ‘Personally, I think it’s the latter, a reflection of paradise, of enjoyment, free spirit, the ability to do things without retribution. It was the inspiration behind The Nights of Eden, and I’m very proud to have this painting here. It always catches our newcomers’ eyes. Angelica was standing in the same position as you two are now, staring up at it in awe, asking the same questions.’

‘And what did she have to say?’

‘She found it delightful as well.’ Micky Tatton moved in front of them, blocking Tomek’s view of the bizarre yet equally enrapturing painting. ‘Have you found what you were looking for?’

‘We’ve only just arrived,’ Rachel answered with too much excitement in her voice for Tomek’s liking.

‘Excellent, then you have all evening to get yourselves acquainted with our activities. Please, feel free to let yourself loose here. There is no judgement, and all our staff are required to sign an NDA as well. Nobody other than the people you see tonight will know about what takes place.’

‘Do you not need us to sign one?’

Micky shook his head. ‘Given your roles, I don’t think that will be necessary.’ As he started off, he stopped and made a half turn. ‘Oh, and love the outfit, by the way. I can tell you’re going to be a fan with many of our guests.’

Tomek felt a knot tighten in his stomach, and a rush of blood to his penis. It was all very confusing.

A moment later, Micky Tatton was gone. Now that was out of the way, they could begin. The only problem was choosing a room. Left or right. In the end, after a brief argument, they settled on The Room. Left. Tomek had already envisaged what was in store for them, but it was nothing close to the reality. Tomek had never seen so much bare flesh and genitalia – and more concerningly, ham – in his life. The room they’d just entered was the wedding hall where newlyweds were supposed to enjoy the happiest days of their lives. But instead of two couples standing hand-in-hand at the head of the room, it was filled with two dozen individuals currently fornicating and penetrating each other. There were half a dozen soft velvet sofas, three water beds, and a couple of beanbags and armchairs. The lights were dimmed, and there wasn’t a single candle in sight – presumably for safety reasons. Before them, bodies were entwined in one another, couples, threesomes, foursomes having sex, perched on the beds, over the armchairs, against the wall. There wasn’t a single free space left. It was like looking at a scene from Game of Thrones. Tomek didn’t know where to look, and for a long moment, he stood perfectly still, unable to tear his gaze from a man in his mid-fifties standing behind another man, bent over the arm of a sofa. Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the room, men stood with erections, masturbating at the scenes. The faces of everyone inside the room were covered. Face masks ranged from a Zorro mask to a ski mask, all the way to a paper bag that had been cut open at the eyes and mouth. But no matter where he looked, when he was finally able to tear his gaze from the homosexual act happening right in front of him, he couldn’t see anyone wearing a donkey mask.

‘Jesus Christ…’ he whispered.

‘Hey, handsome,’ a voice said beside him. The figure – a woman, definitely a woman, naked, wearing a medical face mask and wartime nurse’s hat with a big Red Cross on it – began touching him on the shoulder, making her way down his arm. A second later, she arrived at his truncheon and inspected it. ‘Been a naughty girl, have I? Maybe you should punish me in one of the smaller rooms. Would you like that?’

‘Ah, fuck.’

Tomek very quickly felt out of his depth. He had an extremely attractive woman right in front of him, and all he could think about were the men masturbating, touching themselves as they watched.

‘Rachel… Help…’

At once, Rachel stepped in front of him and kissed the woman, hard and full on the lips. ‘He’s taken for the moment, sweetheart,’ she said as she pulled away, ‘but maybe when I’m finished with him, how about you and I have some fun together?’

The woman looked visibly disheartened to hear that Tomek was taken off the market, but elated at the prospect of spending some time with Rachel afterwards, even though it wasn’t going to happen. Quietly, the woman slipped away, and Tomek thanked Rachel for coming to his rescue.

To their left was a small walkway that led to a bar. They cut through the entrance and ordered themselves a soft drink each: Coca Cola for Tomek, lemonade for Rachel. Beside them, on a nearby sofa, were two men doing lines of cocaine off each other’s stomachs, like it was a shot of vodka and they were on some party island in the middle of the Mediterranean. One of them snorted hard and looked up at Tomek, his nose and mouth covered in white powder. ‘Care to join us?’

Tomek baulked at the man’s remark and watched him rub his nose for a few seconds before replying. ‘Not for us, thanks. Where’d you get it from?’

‘BYOD. Bring your own drugs,’ the man replied, then went back to his cocaine, this time doing a line from the other man’s arse cheeks.

‘Guess that doesn’t make it illegal,’ Rachel whispered in his ears.

‘Even if it was, we probably couldn’t arrest ’em. Imagine the amount of naked flesh that would come running out of here if we did. We’d have to sanitise everything at the station, and even then I don’t think we’d ever get it clean.’

‘So long as no one does a dirty protest,’ Rachel added.

Once they’d received their drinks, they returned to the orgy. Within seconds of their return, a man approached them, completely naked, wearing a pilot’s hat and a pair of tinted ski goggles over his eyes. He was overweight, with incredibly hairy arms and the chest of a bear.

‘All right there, darling?’ he said to Rachel. ‘Don’t recognise you.’

As soon as Tomek realised he wasn’t the target, he took a step back, quietly sipping his drink.

‘Tomek…’ Rachel said, holding out a hand for him. ‘Tomek…’

‘Don’t know who you’re talking to.’

‘This your first time here, darling?’ the man insisted.

‘I’m with him,’ Rachel said, grabbing Tomek and pulling him over.

‘No, we’re not.’

‘Yes, we are.’

‘That’s all right,’ the man said. ‘You can ride me like a horse as much as you want, I still won’t bite.’

‘No, thanks,’ Rachel insisted. Then added politely: ‘Maybe some other time.’

Reluctantly, the man shuffled away, shoulders slumped, clearly upset at the rejection. Once he was out of earshot, Rachel pulled Tomek down to her eyeline.