She shoved him in the back. ‘Go on, get in there and scout the place out. I’m waiting for my lady knight in shining armour to come and kiss me on the hand.’
‘I hope it’s a wrinkly old man with no teeth,’ he told her.
With that, he turned his back on her, and before crossing the threshold into the unknown, inhaled deeply. He held the breath for a long time, until he could no more, then let it slowly out of his nostrils. The tension in his shoulders and upper back reduced gradually.
Then, with a long stride, he went through the front door.
The entrance to the building that he had walked through only a few days before seemed to take on a new life in the darkness. Candles adorned the surfaces, flickering in the gentle March breeze, emitting an abundance of scents filling the air with a soft, subtle fragrance. The walls and furniture shook with the vibrations of heavy bass playing deep in the building. Tomek reached a hand out to the wall and felt it ripple through his skin, up his arm and into his chest.
Dumf. Dumf. Dumf.
Either that, or it was his pounding heartbeat breaking through his ribcage.
A few strides in, he came to the next ritual. It was hidden behind a purple velvet curtain, a large glass dish containing an assortment of items. So far, the guests had already sacrificed a packet of ham, a tape measure, a lightbulb, some underwear, a single sock, a mini-USB, a pencil, and a protein powder scoop amongst many more random household items. Tomek was surprised to realise how many people were already inside. He reached inside the small chest pocket of his outfit and retrieved his sacrifice: a bottle opener. A broken one that he’d found in the kitchen in the office. He placed it in the bowl, then brushed his hands on his top before moving through another curtain. There, sitting on a small bar table, was the taxidermy pig.
‘Fuck a duck,’ he said as he stared at the poor animal. Images of a few weeks before flashed in his mind. He’d been trapped in the middle of a pigs’ pen at a farm, surrounded by seven giant beasts as they’d feasted on a human body. Tomek had tried to save him, but almost come close to death himself. He hadn’t thought of bacon or red meat since then, and now a reminder of that night was staring him in the face. To make it worse, now he had to kiss it.
Before doing so, he surveyed the small section of the room. That was when he noticed the security camera in the corner of the ceiling, trained on him, a red light flashing in the black dome. The sick pervert, Tomek thought, watching us while we do this shit. Reluctantly, realising he still had no choice in the matter, Tomek bent over and kissed the animal on the back. Its skin and fur were rough against his skin, and he was certain a hair became stuck between his lips.
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…’
