Discover the VIP lounge

Adrian didn't release her wrist until they reached a discreet, dark wooden door, guarded by another bouncer, larger and more serious than the one at the entrance. An almost imperceptible nod from Adrian, and the door opened silently.

The contrast with the main club was overwhelming. Here, there was no pulsating music, but the soft murmur of conversations and the click of poker chips. The light was warmer, coming from table lamps that illuminated green-felt gaming tables and deep leather sofas. The air smelled of expensive cigar smoke and silent power.

But what took Magi's breath away was neither the opulence nor the faces. She instantly recognized the real estate mogul and the high-ranking politician who was nursing a whisky. Influential lawyers, judges... all of them there, in a sanctum of discreet luxury and privilege.

And serving them, gliding between the tables like ghosts, were waitresses.

Upon entering, Magi immediately noticed the difference from the employees outside. These women wore very little: lace panties and a tiny black leather corset. They held trays with crystal glasses. Their smiles were empty, professional, their movements fluid and automated. They were part of the living furniture, another luxury available to the clients.

Magi allowed Adrian to guide her to a side table in a corner. As the warm light enveloped her and her eyes adjusted, she began to notice variations in the women's attire.

A waitress passing by the poker table wore the full outfit. Another, serving a whisky to the politician, seemed to have lost her corset. She covered her breasts with her arm as she leaned over, moving with an air of tense resignation. A third, near the bar, wore only the lace panties. The small black leather string of her corset dangled from the hand of a bulky man who was laughing heartily.

"Observe the waitresses closely, Magda," Costa whispered in her ear, his voice thick with renewed interest. "Pay attention to their attire."

Magi focused her attention while Adrian bragged about the club's owners. She saw a woman approach a table wearing a red silk bow tie knotted around her neck, but no blouse. A moment later, a man handed her a wad of bills with a leering smile and pulled the bow tie off, tucking it into his pocket. The waitress merely nodded, her expression impassive, and walked away.

"This is where the real clientele relaxes, Magda," Adrian said in a confidential tone. "Here, conversations... flow differently. His hand found her waist. "See? Anything is possible here."

Magi nodded, trying to process the new and disturbing information.

"Did you see that? They are buying it!" Costa exulted in her ear. "The uniform! It's a way to 'interact' with them, to pay them extra for public humiliation... or whatever they do afterward. It's a system. Ask Adrian!"

A sculpted blonde approached to take drink orders. Magi noticed that she was wearing her corset, but it was unfastened and hanging from a single strap over her shoulder.

"Another drink, Mr. Adrian?"

"For me and for the lady," he said, without taking his eyes off Magi.

When the waitress left, Magi leaned toward Adrian, forcing a light laugh.

"The girls here... they have a special deal, don't they? They seem to lose their clothes as the night goes on. Is it part of the... service?"

Adrian smiled, flattered by the question, as if she had passed a small test of comprehension.

"Ah, Magda, you are very perceptive. It's a game, an extra for the most generous clients. Every garment has a price, you understand. The lace, the leather... money buys a little bit of cheekiness. It's a way to... personalize the experience. They love the display of power."

His hand moved down from her waist to her bare thigh under the dress, resting there with a heaviness that left no room for doubt. Magi held her breath, feeling panic. It was the same system of ownership and stripping applied to the waitresses' clothes, now being applied to her. She was trapped in a corner of a room full of the city's most powerful men, and Adrian had just started to "claim his investment."

The waitress returned with the drinks. Magi took hers—a suspiciously pink cocktail—and only wet her lips.

"Double bingo. It's more than money laundering. It's trafficking, it's systematized humiliation. Use that information. Destabilize him," Costa said.

Magi looked around the VIP room, at the men laughing and gambling, at the increasingly naked waitresses serving them, at Adrian's hand burning her thigh. This was not a mission. It was hell with a luxury carpet. And now she knew exactly how the deeper circle worked.