THE ELYSIAN KEY SAMPLE

Vera sipped her drink, the too-sweet melon liqueur and sour lemon dancing across her tongue. The smoky dive blurred pleasantly at the edges, many of the patrons gone or passed out. Only a few still drowning in their drinks.

The odd woman at the end of the bar was still perched there after several hours, somehow still upright after a whole bottle of tequila. Vera liked her sharp, black bob and leather trench coat, but she didn't really do chicks. Pity.

Her eyes flicked again to the couple in the corner, the woman in the short red dress grinding on the man's lap with his tie wrapped around her fist. Vera swiped her tingling tongue over her lower lip and pressed her thighs together.

"—and that's why I got into finance in the first place. But now… I don't know what I'll do without that job."

Her attention snapped back to the man hunched over the bar beside her, nursing his second whiskey in as many hours. His light brown hair was mussed and his suit was a little bedraggled. He'd shed his tie a while ago, but now all Vera could think about was having it wrapped around her fist while she wrapped herself around him.

"That's tough," she said, tucking her dark brown hair behind her ear to justify another peek at the lascivious couple on the lounge.

The man beside her—Tom? Liam?—slapped a hand on the bar. "It is what it is." He tipped the last of his whiskey into his mouth and pulled a tart face. The same one he pulled each time.

Vera downed the last of her drink, abandoning the empty glass on the bar with a gentle tap. She leaned over, pressing her breasts into the booze-stained wood until they bulged from her neckline. Vera glided one crimson-nailed finger up the outside of Tom's thigh. "Do you wanna… take this someplace else?"

His unfocused eyes widened, and Vera couldn't contain her predatory grin.

"I-I—" He swallowed hard, eyes dropping to her tits, set out like a buffet. "I live with my parents."

Vera's grin pulled wider. "That wasn't quite where I was thinking."

Dragging Tom by the hand, Vera threw a nod to the bartender and shoved open the back door, into the shadowy alley behind the bar. Tom stumbled out after her.

She turned and planted both hands on his chest and pushed him against the grey cinder-block wall.

A soft "oof" escaped him, and he grabbed Vera's upper arms. To stabilise himself or keep her at bay, she wasn't sure. So she gentled her touch.

Stepping closer, she caressed his chest through his rumpled button-up. "How do you like it?" she asked, fluttering her eyelids and adding a seductive tilt to her lips.

Tom glanced around. "Uh, you mean… right here?"

Vera leaned in close, brushing her lips against his neck. "Or, if you want your parents to watch…"

Tom drew in a sharp breath. "Here's fine," he choked out.

Vera raised her head and planted her mouth on his. His whiskey and despair mingled with her lemon and want, creating a potent cocktail all its own. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and drank her fill.

He groaned helplessly as Vera fitted her body to his, pressing her pelvis where he was already hardening. She twisted her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, consuming him. He released her mouth, gasping, and she grazed her teeth over his pulse point.

Tom fumbled at his belt for long seconds, before Vera helped him, effortlessly popping open his fly and freeing his erection. He paused, uncertain.

Skittish. Don't let him bolt. Vera gripped him gently, stroking her fingers over his length. The ache between her legs sharpened. Velvety soft cock always got her going.

She licked a stripe from his collar to his jawline, the salt of his sweat tainted by the smoky dive air. "Touch me," she whispered against his skin, still wet with her saliva, and watched goosebumps race up his neck. He let out a soft sigh, cock pulsing in her hand.

Tom slipped shaky fingers beneath her short skirt, dragging them up her naked thighs until he found her slick apex.

"Oh, fuck," he whimpered into her hair. As he slid a finger along her center and plunged it inside, Vera quickened her strokes, gripping his hard cock more tightly. With flicks of her wrist, she twirled her palm against the tip with each up-stroke, setting the poor man to twitching and smoothing his precum along his length.

Tom's lone finger lay inside her, flaccid and forgotten, though her pussy practically vibrated with need. He thrust into her palm, increasing the pace.

Vera knew what was coming. "Wait—"

He tipped his head back with a moan, gave one more hard thrust, and shuddered. Thick spurts of white cum sprayed onto Vera's plaid skirt, dribbling down the pleats.

Tom panted at the sky, trying to catch his breath.

Vera gritted her teeth, trying to summon her patience.

"That was… Wow." Tom lowered his eyes from the cosmos, and met her gaze, removing his useless finger from her unsatisfied pussy. "I— I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Vera shot him a dazzling smile. "It's alright, baby. Happens to the best of us. I'm glad you had a good time." She planted a chaste kiss on his lips as she tucked him away, zipping up his fly and surreptitiously wiping her fingers on his pants.

The clatter of an empty beer bottle rolling down the alley made them both turn. The woman in the leather trench coat stood by the bar's back exit, unlit cigarette held between two fingers. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to interrupt."

The little smile on her bright red lips suggested otherwise.

Tom smoothed his hair back, forehead slick with sweat. "Um, thank you." He gave Vera an awkward head bob, turned on his heel and all but ran from the alley, back to the cleaner, brighter main street.

"Satisfied?" The woman leaned against the wall, cigarette between her smirking lips.

Vera glanced down at the cum drying on her skirt. She scoffed. "Not even close."

The woman chuckled. She seemed awfully sober for someone who'd spent hours downing tequila shots alone. "I could help with that, you know."

Vera cocked one brow and rested her hands on her hips. "I wish. Never could get into chicks, despite my best efforts."

"Not me personally," the woman said, blowing a puff of sweet-smelling smoke. "I know a place. A club. For women like us."

Vera sniffed, pulling her cropped jacket tighter against the chill of witching hour. "'Preciate the offer, but I'm not much of a dancer."

The woman fished in a pocket of her trench coat and held out a card between painted black nails. The card shimmered gold in the city's neon backwash. "Not a strip club."

Vera took the card and squinted at it. The Elysian Key. She turned it over. Paradise beyond your wildest dreams.

No address. No phone number.

"Then what is it?" Vera held up the card. "And where?"

The woman took her time answering, drawing a slow draft of her cigarette.

"Paradise," she breathed, pluming smoke through her nose. "And a sanctuary, for anyone who feels a little… other. You can find it beneath the bridge." She turned and pointed to the city's beating heart, Thornton Bridge. "South side. Just knock and give the password."

She's fucking with me, surely? A wry smile twisted Vera's lips. "Which is?"

The woman grinned, showing a mouth full of needle sharp teeth. Vera blinked, wondering if the melon liqueur was turning on her.

The woman leaned closer, and, with a theatrical whisper, said, "Mashed potatoes."

Two: Mashed Potatoes

Vera crossed her arms, the fluffy sleeves of her pink faux fur jacket tickling her palms.

What the hell am I doing?

Standing beneath the south end of Thornton Bridge, amongst piles of trash and the occasional discarded syringe, she stared at the space between two pylons. Bare concrete.

Just knock and give the password.

Sure. And maybe the tooth fairy will come out to give Santa Claus a rim job. Vera rolled her eyes. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but she'd certainly hoped. More than she wanted to admit.

Fuck it. She was here. Might as well engage in the whole charade.

She stepped closer, the path to the bare wall mercifully free of dirty needles and trash. Just as well, given her open-toed leather boots. With a self-deprecating sigh, she raised a fist and rapped her knuckles on the concrete three times, finishing with a flourish.

She waited.

Her breath steamed in front of her. Her knuckles tingled.

Nothing happened.

What a surprise!

Vera turned, shaking her head, and took two steps.

"Password?" The voice was deep and masculine. Too deep. Almost like it was electronically lowered in pitch.

"Uh…" Vera turned around. The wall was still blank. There was no one there. "Mashed potatoes?"

The sound of grinding stone echoed out amongst the steel and concrete pylons around her. Vera glanced left and right. Slowly, a dark space opened in the concrete. From inside, pulsing music spilled out, along with tendrils of smoke that seemed to beckon her forward.

"Okaaay." She wiped her palms on her skin-tight lace-up pants. "I'm game."

She stepped inside, trying to peer into the gloom ahead. Grinding stone rang out again, and the bright rectangle of the world she knew narrowed. She watched it close, heart pounding with the knowledge that she couldn't go back.

As it shut with a resounding bang, Vera squared her shoulders and charged forward. Music blared louder as she walked. She turned a shadowy corner, and hot pink laser lights blasted her face. She blinked, shielding her eyes with her hands.

Through the blazing lights, Vera could make out a club, like many she'd seen before. Fancy bar with gold and glass highlights. Shirtless bartenders flipping bottles and shaking mixers. Roiling fog carpeting a tiled dance floor, strips of color-changing lights pulsing in time to the music while lasers swung in patterns overhead. Raised stages with shiny poles, currently without dancers. Curtained alcoves lining the walls, and private rooms behind closed doors toward the back.

Where this club differed, however, was in its patrons.

Vera's mouth fell open. A man—or rather, thing—reclined on a plush red couch, chatting with a topless girl wearing a white lace mask. His skin bore the criss-cross pattern of scales, gleaming in the laser lights. His eyes glowed a soft yellow, and spiked ridges took the place of eyebrows. As he spoke, a forked tongue darted out, tasting the air, and he turned his slitted pupils on Vera.

She looked away, and froze again. A huge guy, maybe seven and a half feet tall, lumbered onto the dance floor with another masked girl. He was covered in shaggy white hair, and curling blue-grey horns spiralled up from his head. As Vera watched, the girl shimmied and swayed with the monster, smiling seductively.

"Pardon me," a voice hissed from behind her, barely audible over the music.

Vera jumped to the side, out of the man's way.

He smiled at her, showing two sharp fangs where his canines should have been. "Thankssss." He slithered past her and—

Slithered?!

His body, from head to waist, was a man—a hot, shirtless man—but below that was pure snake. Diamond patterns of black and cream went all the way down his tail. His tail!

Vera hugged herself tight. Did a dirty needle get me after all? Am I tweaking? "What the fuck?" she whispered to herself.

"I say that at least a dozen times a day," a familiar voice crooned at her side.

Vera spun. The woman from last night stood beside her, having somehow materialised there. The trench coat was gone, and she wore a skin-tight dress of pale pink, laced up at her chest. Her tits peered through the gap in graceful mounds, almost visible to the nipple. The skin of her shoulders and arms shimmered, pearlescent. She smiled at Vera, once again showing off her sharp teeth.

Okay. I've cracked.

"I think I need a drink," Vera muttered.

The woman patted her on the shoulder. "That's the right reaction." She steered Vera toward the bar and pushed her down onto a stool.

Vera leaned her elbows on the bar, the cool glass helping to ground her. "What's the wrong reaction?"

The woman sat beside her, flicking her hair back, showing a flash of three narrow slits just below her ear. "Crying. Screaming. Puking. Pissing yourself. Take your pick." She lifted two fingers toward a bartender and he gave her a nod.

"Jesus."

"Yeah, I imagine people had the same reaction to him."

The bartender came over and plopped a bottle of melon liqueur on the bar, along with two shot glasses.

Vera shot the woman a sideways glance.

"You're right to be suspicious. I was watching you last night. For a reason." She poured the liqueur into the glasses and Vera snatched hers up, ignoring the woman holding hers out for a 'cheers', and downed it in one.

The woman chuckled and followed suit. "My name is Selena. I own the club."

"Vera," she muttered, casting a nervous glance behind her to the… lizard… guy… thing still reclining on the couch. He met her eyes, and she spun back around, snatching up the bottle and pouring another drink. "What the fuck is this? Is this real?"

Selena studied Vera while she downed her second shot and poured again. Her red lips pulled into a smirk when Vera poured another for her, too. "Like I said. It's a sanctuary for the cityfolk who don't fit in elsewhere. They come here to feel normal. Accepted. Wanted."

Vera's brain worked overtime. "Okay… but what does that have to do with me being… satisfied?"

Selena sipped at her liqueur. "You said you don't do chicks. That leaves you with men, basically. Right?"

Vera shrugged, but nodded.

"How's that working for you? A lot like last night?"

Vera laughed, a little too loud. "So that's your angle? 'Sick of fucking dudes? Try a lizard!'" Vera moved to point, but Selena caught her wrist, mouth flat, eyes hard.

"This place is a safe haven. I invited you because I thought you were open-minded. If you antagonise my patrons I will have Leon throw you out."

Vera sobered. "Leon is…?" She subtly cocked her head toward the lizard man.

"No. Leon is the troll who let you in. Troll magic is powerful, and unpleasant." Selena released her wrist, the corners of her mouth softening. "Look, I see myself in you. Always hunting for something more than the crumbs offered to you by the world above. Down here, you can be anything you want. Have anything you want."

Vera turned her shot glass in her hand, stewing in those words. She did want more. Always had. And had never stopped to question if the world she was familiar with could even provide it.

"So, you want me to be a member? Or what?"

Selena's grin was wicked. "Actually, I want you to work here." She spun her stool to face the room, leaning back and resting her elbows on the bar. Vera followed suit. "The girls you see here are employees. They entertain our patrons. Make them feel special. And the patrons make them feel… Well. Satisfied."

Vera's current job was stocking shelves at her local D-Mart. As she glanced around the club, at the lizard man's forked tongue in one girl's ear, and the yeti's impressive erection as the girl dancing with him pressed her tits together for his bird's eye view, fear started to give way to something else. Curiosity?

"Where do I sign?"

Selena's eyebrows shot up. "Don't you wanna know what the pay is? Benefits? What you'd be expected to do?"

Vera counted off on her fingers. "I'm already on minimum wage. I'll take a free drink here or there as benefits. And I'm guessing I'll be doing a lot of fucking, which kinda works for me."

Vera snagged the bottle of liqueur off the bar and poured herself another shot. When Selena held her glass out for a refill, Vera obliged.

"Then I'll consider this the beginning of our working relationship."

This time, Vera clinked her glass against Selena's, before downing the sweet liquid.

"So," Vera turned to face Selena front on, "who am I fucking first?"