Anonymous

The place was dimly lit from the outside, with barely a sign that announced its presence. I was with my rather jaded friend, who knew every corner of this bath house like the back of his hand. It was my first time.

“Three hundred for the membership.” The guy behind the glass partition said snappishly, checking me out from head to toe. I got uncomfortable. I nudge my friend.

“Two memberships for a month, please.”

“That’s six hundred in all.” He hands us two small cards and a bleeding pen for us to use.

I looked at my friend questioningly. He nods. I nervously filled out the tiny card, changing the spelling of my last name and using my nickname instead of my real name. I had this silly thought that people might dig this up later when they look for dirt, and that would be a blow to my reputation. I giggled at my use of the term “blow”. Oh boy.

“What’s so funny?” My friend asks.

“Nothing.”

My friend leads me to this small hallway with the wall covered with glass shelves with locks on them. We hand the bouncer our valuables- cellphone, wallet, and my keys. Then they make us sign a log book, and then give us each a tiny key.

“What are these for?”

“You’ll see.”

We get to this empty bar, with only a lonely bartender drying glasses with a white cloth. He smiles and hands us two bottles of San Mig Light.

“The place is empty, and it’s past eleven already!” I sit at the bar. And reluctantly took a swig. “Where are all the people?”

“Finish your drink so we can go downstairs.” My friend says.

I notice a stairway at the far end of the room. Two guys emerge from the stairway, one was heavyset and thirty-ish, the other was lean and younger. They were holding hands.

My gaze followed as they made their way to the corridor. The younger guy meets my gaze and winks at me.
To be continued..