Twenty-two

The girls are in bed when I leave the house in my matte Ferrari, I slow down as I near the entrance of the club, honking in response to the greetings of the bulky security men. They let me in without a second glance to park at my usual spot, my hands tighten around the steering, I exhale without stepping out. 

Twentieth of September. I look away from the date on my phone, wishing the lines will blur and my memory will fade but today is not my lucky day.

Today makes it five years since Elna and I separated. I slip out of the car, step into the club through the secret entrance for the owner. My eyes adjust to the narrow, dim-lit corridor, a few naked bodies with masks protecting their identities sashay past me. I dismiss their greeting, dodging bodies until I arrive at the front of my playroom-cum-office. I take in a deep breath, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension.

Colognes mixed with the different smells thick in the air tickle my nostrils, I fiddle