Back Rooms Novels & Stories

And then there are the back rooms tucked in the strip club, where I’m headed right now. A maze of corridors leads me to where the adjacent space looks like a fully equipped facility with regular rooms. Some of the shadiest deals have been cut in these rooms, and some of the most toxic alliances have been made here. Not to mention that some of our VIP guests have paid handsomely to have their dicks sucked on this floor, although they’ve never wandered that far away from the club. The VIP rooms line the back of the club. They go there, have a drink, select their favorite woman, and have a room set up in the back. Easy peasy.

The private backroom of The Foundry was reserved for the city’s oldest dynasties, a sanctuary of dark mahogany, deep leather armchairs, and the amber glow of single-malt Scotch. It was a place designed for quiet business and cigars, but tonight, the air was poisoned by a familiar, superficial chatter that Xavier was finding harder to stomach by the second.

Caleb was breathing heavily as he shouted, "Ten minutes ago, Mr. Reed got into a car accident and lost a lot of blood. "The hospital's blood bank was critically low, and Mr. Reed—he couldn't be saved. He's gone."

she murmured softly as she slid into the seat. He closed the door with a quiet click, circling around to the driver’s side. Moments later, the car purred to life, and they eased into the flow of traffic, heading back toward Queens. As the city lights blurred past them, Natalia found herself gazing out the window, her mind spinning with thoughts of Damien, Camila, and the life she’d carefully kept hidden for so long.

I wasn’t here to lose, but I was out of chips and out of options. He leaned across the table, his voice low, dripping with intent. “Backroom. Now. We settle this my way.” My stomach twisted, a mix of dread and heat, but I nodded, following him through the crowd. The backroom was a dive, a step down from the casino’s glitz. A single poker table sat under a flickering bulb, the felt stained with spilled drinks. The air smelled of stale beer and sex. I stood by the table, my black dress clinging to my sweat-damp skin. Marcus shut the door, the lock clicking with a finality that made my thighs clench.

"Spit it out, then." I glanced at them icily, unmoved by this allegedly affectionate display. Aaron pulled out a thick stack of papers and pushed it toward me. "Take a look, Jason." "June 28th: Bought a pair of pants for 699 dollars." "2nd July: 2000-dollar bank transfer." "4th July: Miscellaneous expense of 52 dollars." I didn't quite understand it. "Why are you showing me this?" I asked. This stack of papers contained all the recorded purchases that Carly and I made.

I decided not to call Avery ahead of time about my coming- I wanted to know if they are working on it like they told my uncle. I slipped back into my jacket, told Lena I was going to check out the issue and then left my office. I took the elevator to the 4th floor where the IT department was located.

“So… I’m guessing that these back rooms are for – entertainment purposes?” “Yeah, you can say that. I mean, you saw that two of them are actually games rooms – you saw the pool tables, right? – but the others are literal crash rooms that people can rent to sleep over. Sometimes the boys stay overnight for some reason, like when their place is getting some work done or something like that. That’s why we have sofa beds and showers in the rooms. But yeah, if a room is free and the booze is flowing and the mood strikes, bar patrons can come down to an empty room and… well. You know.” “Fling their clothing off in all directions,” she finished for him. “Got it.”

But resolve. They left through the side gate, the one that led to the service driveway. Adrian had already called a discreet driver he knew from university days—no questions asked, cash only. The black SUV waited in the shadows beyond the property wall. As they slid into the backseat, Elena glanced back at the mansion one last time. The windows were dark except for the faint glow from Richard’s study. She imagined him sitting there, staring at nothing, the weight of betrayal settling into his bones. She turned away.

I struggled hard, trying to pull my hands free, but the restraints wouldn't budge no matter how hard I twisted. That was when the realization finally hit me. My mother ran an adult shop. And this had to be that new specialty bed she had recently ordered. It had built-in mechanisms. Once triggered, the restraints would lock automatically, and only someone outside could disable it. Earlier, I had been so exhausted that I grabbed the first bed I saw in the back room and passed out. I hadn't even noticed it was the brand-new display model. I must've hit one of the triggers in my sleep. Now the damn thing had my arms and legs locked in place.