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Babylon

Perhaps anyone's dream in North Noriah would be to skip the line in Babylon by presenting a VIP card. This was almost like having a celebrity pass. But this was not our case, as we would enter through the service door.

The Babylon Nightclub was simply gigantic, occupying an entire block. Parking was downstairs, underground. But only those with the VIP certificate were entitled to park there.

With elitist patrons, as the ticket was almost the price of a kidney on the black market, the place had women of all kinds “hunting” for comfort with the bank account of a rich man. And, on the other hand, men who were looking for beautiful, hot and famous women.

We lived nearby and our best friend worked there and we had never set foot in there.

Salma had worked there for many years. But my friend was very correct and never considered giving us free passes, not even through the entrance where today she had decided to go against everything she had told us for years.

My curiosity was piqued. I knew Salma was a dancer. Of course, based on what she said and photos in the media, I could more or less imagine how things worked there. But I always dreamed of seeing everything live and making sure that the women who danced didn't do shows afterwards, as my friend claimed it didn't happen.

Salma and I were very good friends. But I think if she dated someone for money, she would never tell me.

We entered through a small door at the back. There was a lot of movement in and out: the arrival of goods, especially drinks, as well as the entry and exit of people, I believe from security guards, bartenders, dancers, etc. The place employed hundreds of people.

We walked in without even being noticed. We passed through a narrow, well-lit corridor with dark walls and Salma swiped her key card, unlocking the large door in front of us.

There the turmoil was even greater. People everywhere, shrill screams and various mixed smells.

  • I'm going to the dressing room. – she explained. “And you will go straight down this corridor. – he pointed. - Go down the stairs and at the end there is a door. – She handed over the card. – Pass the electronic lock and you will be in the club.

Ben quickly took the card from her hands, excited:

'And it took you years to get us here…' He rolled his eyes. “Your life is going to be hell after this, you whore. I will come every weekend.

  • Hey, it was only that easy because today is Friday. And you're lucky the whole fucking owner is around. That's why all this madness. Otherwise, it's security everywhere. Now they are focused on protecting Mr. Casanova. – she explained. “Because except him, nothing else matters.

  • That piece of bad way. Ben smiled, clapping his hands.

  • Piece of everything... Mainly meat... When I look at it, it reminds me of steak. Salma sighed.

  • Hmm, little hearts coming out of your eyes. He's beautiful. Ben continued.

  • It already has an owner... In fact, not just one.

  • I already hate it. I said sincerely.

The two started to laugh.

  • Do you hate Heitor Casanova? - Ben laughed amusedly. – He's just perfect.

"A traitorous scoundrel, from what our friend just said." I shrugged. – Bigamy is a crime. And betrayal is the worst thing a human being can do.

  • Do you know Heitor Casanova that well, Babi? - Ben mocked.

  • Of course... From where she knows Bon Jovi. – Salma has destroyed the rest of my dignity.

  • Okay, two against one is not enough. – I left while taking the card from Ben's hands, who showed it without remembering that we were crashers in that place, almost criminals.

I went along the corridor, against the flow of people coming the other way around, being followed by Benicio, wanting to take the card from my hand as if it were worth gold.

  • You know that Bon Jovi was here, right? – I remembered Benicio.

  • Yes... In 1980? – he teased me. – I think Heitor Casanova wasn't even born yet. So Babylon didn't exist, honey.

I went downstairs and looked at him before swiping the card at the door:

  • It's been eight years, Ben. He didn't come to play...

  • He came to Babilônia with his band, on a weekend they played in Noriah Norte. He rolled his eyes. “You've said that a thousand times. Open the fucking door of joy right away, Babi or I'm going to freak out and send your Bon Jovi to hell.

I fixed the black hat on his head, which was slightly crooked:

  • I'm going to step where my idol once set foot. I took a deep breath.

  • I just want to see Heitor Casanova, honey. The rest is rest. Being able to say that one day I breathed the same air as that hottie.

I swiped the card and the door opened, leaving us directly beside one of the bars.

I tried to open it again, from the inside, but it wouldn't open:

  • You only have a one-way ticket, honey. – he took my hands.

  • It's in God's hands.

  • And this time he will, my friend.

The bright, colorful lights that strolled outside were also inside. The glass boxes were located at various points in the place, at the top. One of the bars was almost the size of the entire Hazard, our favorite little bar, which was a block away from our apartment. The other, slightly smaller bar was opposite, on the other side of the dance floor.

In addition to all the drinks, there was craft draft beer of different flavors, made by the Babilônia brand itself.

The dance floor was huge and had a not very big stage at one end. The DJ was at the top, on a kind of suspended stage, made of glass. It was all absolutely technological and breathtaking.

Darkness was compensated with colored light. The techno rhythm took over the place.

Above, narrow cabins, which could only be accessed by the elite of the elite, with more than ten security guards along the access stairs. From there, the dancers would be seen from the front, without having to look up and perhaps cause a stiff neck, as for those at the bottom.

  • Gone, my friend. Ben pulled me onto the track.

  • I need to drink. I screamed to be heard.

  • Go there... I'll wait for you here, Babi.

He started dancing alone. I went to the bar and spent more than ten minutes thinking about which draft beer I would try. I ended up getting the chocolate pepper one. I was curious about flavors.

I drank the cold and tasty liquid. The taste was as wonderful as it was exotic. I could take ten more of those. Smooth, but you could taste the alcohol. Certainly for refined palates. I was poor, but the type of people with refined taste, rich.

The cup was emptied in no time. And when I realized it, I was picking up another one. The choice this time was cherry. Damn, who ever had the privilege of drinking cherry beer? I.

I couldn't drink any more, or I'd run out of my friend Salma's card. It would certainly be deducted from her salary afterwards. Though I don't think she'd mind if I had a draft of...mint.

  • You'll get drunk like this. – The bartender handed me the third glass, laughing.

  • I don't think so... It seems to be low in alcohol. – I shouted to be heard, not realizing that the same person handed me the glasses.

All bartenders and bargirls wore black pants, with a vest of the same color, and white shirts underneath. Clothing was embroidered with the name of the place.

  • I give you half an hour and you'll be dancing naked on the floor. – he assured.

I started to laugh:

  • Thanks for the tip. I'll take it into account.

  • When you're naked on the runway? - laughed.

I nodded, downing the last glass, which already made me a little dizzy.

I went to find my friend, who was still dancing alone in the crowd. And it wasn't difficult to find a slim young man, not very tall, with a red checkered blazer, bright blue pants and black military boots and a beautiful hat on his head. His long, honey-colored hair, braided, moved as he danced to the beat of the music.

I hugged him from behind. He turned and we started jumping, right next to each other.

  • This here is just perfect, Babi.

  • As far as the drinks are concerned... I had a chocolate chilli chopp... Do you have any idea?

He kissed my lips:

  • It doesn't taste like chocolate with pepper.

  • Because the last one was mint. - I started to laugh. - Feel. – I kissed him again, letting him taste it on my tongue.

  • It's sweet. He narrowed his eyes, grimacing.

  • You need to prove it, Ben.

  • There at the bar or on your lips, Babi? He laughed sarcastically.

  • At the bar, you fool.

He took a while to come back. I kept dancing. The songs were nice and the atmosphere was perfect. Soon Ben came back and we started dancing sensually, like we did at home for fun. In a short time, some people gathered around us, curious about our dance.

I never imagined that our choreography of those who had nothing to do on weekends at night would be so successful. And when I saw it, my friend was surprised by a man of almost two meters, pure muscles, who kissed him without asking for permission.

God, he would destroy my Ben. She was at least forty centimeters taller than him. And if his dick was proportional to his height... Ben was literally fucked.

Before long my friend disappeared into the crowd. Artificial smoke took over the place and the dancers entered the transparent boxes, applauded by the maddened public. A new song started. The lights were in different colors and very bright reflectors were fixed on each one of them, which began to dance according to the rhythm.

They wore narrow white cloths that covered part of their bodies, completely shining in gold. As if they were full of plasters. Did it have a name? If there was, it was certainly tissue scraps or something like that. I recognized my friend Salma, dancing beautifully on the sidelines.

They danced for around five minutes and the audience never stopped screaming and applauding. They really were perfect, both in choreography and clothing.

Suddenly, complete darkness. Sirens, as if they were police and flashing red lights were present. It all went like this, around five minutes.

Then the lights came on, completely illuminating the place. And a stage came down from above, with three pole dancing poles. Three simply wonderful women, with the same clothes, shiny and glued to the body, took their places and started a show that, particularly, I've never seen anything like it.

As they followed the rhythm of the music, dancing beautifully and synchronized, one of the boxes received a man, wearing only tight-fitting black pants, showing his stiffened muscles as he danced.

The outcry was general. And honestly, I didn't know where to look. The man was perfect, but the women's show left nothing to be desired.

The one in the middle caught my eye. In addition to seeming to know more than the others and to be absolutely skilled at what she did, she had a lot of confidence. She was tall, thin, and had long, artificial-looking blond hair tied in a ponytail on top of her head.

Soon the song ended and they were gone, leaving the audience completely wild. A while later and the other girls went back to their transparent boxes, including my friend Salma.

It was all very fast and exciting. But my head soon started to spin and my bladder was asking to be emptied immediately.

I left, with the excess lights dazzling my eyes. There were so many people... Everyone hit me, unintentionally. I saw the lighted sign indicating the toilets in the distance and staggered a little.

I stopped, unsure if I could make it there. Well the bartender told me that I would get completely drunk.

I looked ahead and saw a sign: “PRIVATE – NO ENTRY”. Was it a dream? Or she was so drunk that she was seeing things. An exclusive toilet for whoever had that magic card? That place was perfect. Even the elite could pee in peace.

Turns out, as soon as the door opened and closed automatically, I realized it wasn't a bathroom. It was a fucking narrow staircase that had no end.

I tried to open the door, which was locked. Why was there no way to swipe the card from the inside? Where was the little box where you put the magic card?

I quickly went up the stairs. If I couldn't find a toilet I would pee on my clothes.

Why did a sign saying "private" not have a toilet? How crazy. You couldn't even hear the music from there... As if it were soundproof.

The bottom of the stairs led to a T-shaped hallway. And I could choose which way to go, because they were both absolutely the same. I went right. Because on the left it was enough for me and my life.

At the end, another corridor. Was that a fucking maze? I didn't have a living soul to help me.

What if I got lost there? Wasn't it just a nightclub? Why so many corridors and doors with cards?

I heard some sounds and went there. I stopped immediately when I saw a man leaning against the wall, his pants down, while a woman, on her knees, sucked him madly... And it was... The blonde in the middle of the pole dance. He was even wearing the same clothes. What the fuck!

The sounds were his moans. She was almost naked and he had his eyes closed. I tried to leave without being noticed... But I couldn't.

  • What the fuck are you doing here? he asked, unable to tuck his cock back into his pants when she pulled her mouth away, lifting.

I stared at the woman, completely bewildered. And his erection... Fuck, fuck, a thousand times fuck!

  • Sorry... I... - I tried to justify the unjustifiable.

  • Answer my question. – he was emphatic and rude.

The man had green eyes and well-groomed hair. The beard was well groomed. Dark hair, with fair skin. So tall that he was maybe a foot taller than me.

  • Could... keep... your... - I pointed to the penis.

He quickly pulled up his pants, bewildered.

  • Answer now. Lost your tongue? – the blonde asked.

  • I just walked into the wrong place. – I justified it.

  • You work here? - he asked.

  • No... It doesn't work. So... Do you have a card like? – she looked at me.

  • I... I don't have a card. I hid my hand behind my back, squeezing Salma's card tightly.

If anyone found out what she'd done, I knew she'd be in trouble. And if my best friend lost her job because of my foolishness, I would never forgive myself. I could barely get myself a job, let alone help her find one.

  • What part didn't you hear? I want to know why you're here. Didn't read the PRIVATE port? Are you illiterate?

  • I read... Private... You... Disqualified asshole. I'm not illiterate... I just wanted to go to the bathroom...

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