CMnf Club

"You gotta come with me, man!"

Jake, Ken's friend, implored him for the tenth time in about as many minutes as the two of them walked across campus towards their next class.

"I'm sure you don't want me cramping your style," Ken replied, with a grin and a shake of his head.

"Besides, a university club based around women being naked? Sounds like a prank to me."

"No, dude, it's legit!" Jake insisted, hitching his backpack a little higher. The weather was that odd combination in early autumn, just cool enough to want jeans and light jacket, but warm enough that any mild exercise made them too hot. The walk to the lecture theatre was enough to make Ken take his jacket off and sling it over his shoulder.

"Who'd you hear about it from?" Ken pressed home his point. "One of the seniors, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Jake tried to defend his point.

"Nope. It's a prank. Not interested." Ken replied.

"Fine. Whatever." Jake kicked at a stone desultorily as they walked into the theater and found seats in the middle, far enough away to not stand out, close enough to the front they didn't look like slackers.

"Hey..." Ken's voice had a note of reconciliation in it. He and Jake had been friends all through high school, but while university had unlocked Jake's inner horn dog, Ken was more about quality over quantity. Plus, the break up with his high school girlfriend was still a little... fresh. Naked women thrust in his face was the last thing he needed right now.

"Nah, I get it." Jake voice was sulky. "I just thought you'd have my back, that's all."

"Oh, come on!"

"Dude... if we got into this... I mean... it's the whole experience, right? Did we come to university just to play it safe!"

Ken sighed. He still thought this sounded like a set up, but Jake had a point. They'd both agreed to spread their wings a little when they'd moved to the big city. What was the worst that could happen? They'd get laughed at. Plus for better or worse, Jake was his friend. He couldn't let him suffer alone.

"Fine. I'm in." He could feel the thousand watt glare of Jake's smile without even turning his head.

"But, if this is a prank, you owe me. Got it?"

"Deal!" Jake announced happily.

"Down here!" Jake said, as he ushered Ken down a set of concrete steps. Ahead of them was an iron basement door, the old type you saw in movies, with a peephole slider in it.

Jake lifted his hand and rapped on it three times in quick succession, then two, slow, ponderous knocks.

"The secret knock!" Jake proclaimed proudly and Ken did his best to not roll his eyes at his friend's antics. As he was not quite succeeding, he noticed a small plate set into the concrete over the door, with an odd sigil etched in bas-relief. It was so small and well aged that if he hadn't looked directly at it, he would have missed it.

The peephole slid open and he promptly forgot all about it as a pair of eyes looked at them.

"Password?"

There was a buzzing distortion to the voice, effectively disguising the gender, although from the look of the eyes, Ken felt the speaker was female. He couldn't say why, though.

"Conundrum!" Jake said, confidently and the peephole slide shut.

"See, I told you. It was a stitch up. Let's go." Ken had already turned away.

"I bet we can still meet Lydia and Tina at the Alibi if we leave right - "

The buzz of the electronic lock disengaging interrupted him and Jake gave him a triumphant smile as he pulled the heavy door open. Inside, there was just enough room for the two boys, as they faced an inner door.

"What is this place? A bomb shelter?" Ken asked as Jake tugged the door closed behind them. Once the outer door had settled into place with a solid CLICK, the inner door buzzed and Ken pushed it open with his hand.

"Gentlemen," A woman wearing a black cocktail dress and masquerade mask smiled at them. "Welcome to the Servitium Club. I understand you are interested in becoming members?"

"We sure are!" Jake forged ahead while Ken took a second to assess their surroundings. They were in a small, concrete room, lit with a warm yellow light. Swaths of cloth had been hung up on the walls, bring a touch of color and softness to the place, while several comfortable chairs were arrayed in a semi circle against the wall, two on each side of the door.

The woman who had greeted them was a knockout. She had large, firm breasts, and the cocktail dress she was wearing was thin enough and sheer enough to hint enticingly about the delights that lay underneath. She had a warm golden glow to her skin, and her hair was dark, artfully tumbled around her shoulders in an appealing mess.

"You are - " Ken prompted her, stopping Jake from offering their own names or anything of that sort.

"You may call me the Hostess," She replied, a little bit of ice coating her friendly tone.

Ken nodded.

"I guess you can call me the Prospective then," he countered and a slight spark seemed to light in the woman's eyes.

"And how shall we address your friend?" She asked, a slight lilt in her voice.

"Uh... I'm just Jake," His head swiveled between Ken and the Hostess, trying to read the subtext between them.

"Excellent. Well, if you gentlemen are ready, your entry interview awaits." The Hostess swept her arm at the curtain before them, and a light snapped on, shining through the thin cloth. Beyond, they could see a row of doors, numbered one through five.

"Please, walk through and pick a door. The only rule is that you may not both pick the same."

"Right... thanks." Jake seemed a little less enthusiastic now, but he forged through the curtain and jerked open door number three, marching determinedly inside.

"And you, Sir?" The Hostess asked Ken as he paused. Something about this whole situation seemed... off. Like there was a test that he didn't even realise that he was taking. He took a step towards the doors, but then something seemed to click in his brain. On top of each door was a small marker, a symbol similar, but not the same as the one over the entrance.

"I believe I'll take door number six," Ken replied, with a slight smile. The Hostess looked at him and her lips creased in her own smile.

"As you can see, Sir, there are only five doors. You must pick one."

"I've already made my choice." Ken replied, acting on some obscure instinct. He wasn't sure what it was, but just being here, with this woman, was having an effect on him. Despite not having drunk any alcohol, he was buzzing, a tingling sensation that started in his belly and radiated out. He felt like a king, on top of the world and his smallest whim was not to be denied. He looked at the Hostess and their gazes met.

For a second that felt like an eternity, their wills clashed. It was a novel sensation for Ken, something he'd felt only a few times before in his life. It was like the could feel the Hostess's will pushing against his own, like her strength was testing his. And after only a brief touch, he knew his was stronger. Something passed between them, something that had started when he'd declined to give his name, grown through his insistence on there being a sixth door and was now fully formed.

Just as quickly as their gazes met, the Hostess's eyes snapped down to the floor. Her chin tilted down as well, and her curls slid forward, partially obscuring her face.

"Look at me!" Ken snapped and his own mind reeled at the authority in his tone. Since when did he talk to people like that? Masking his inner confusion, he looked at the Hostess, who's chin had come up, her hair retreating again, but her eyes were locked determinedly on his chin. Despite keeping his own gaze on her face, he couldn't help but notice that her breathing had quickened, not quite a pant, but certainly deeper than before. Her nipples were the real giveaway though, tenting the thin fabric of her dress, adding to the overall impression of wantonness that she'd been radiating.

"Yes, sir?" She said, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Door Six?" He prompted her, in that same authoritive tone, although the snap was missing this time.

"Of course, Sir." She moved to the wall and reached behind the hanging. There was a grinding noise and the hanging suddenly billowed out, as if there was a breeze.

"You may go right in," she said, her eyes downcast again. Ken took a step forward, heading for the opening when his instincts tingled again.

"My mask?" He asked, holding his hand out. His gaze landed on her squarely, and while he didn't feel like he'd done anything particularly different, the Hostess let out a squeak and produced a wooden box from somewhere. She opened it to reveal setting for five masquerade masks. Three were empty, leaving Ken with a choice of the Tiger or Dragon mask. After a brief hesitation, he picked up the Dragon mask and set it on his face. A band automatically shot out and arced around his head, settling into the socket on the other side and holding the mask firmly on his face.

"I... hope to see you again, Sir." The Hostess said, as she closed the box. "Good luck."

Ken nodded to her, and then stepped forward, through the door.