The black envelope was lying under the mass of letters at her feet when Katie James went to pick up her mail from the front door. It was velvety to the touch and had a wax seal on the back. A Victorian-style V was pressed into the red wax.
Katie flipped the envelope over a few times. It merely had her name scripted in gold ink on the front. She dropped the other mail on the side table and took the envelope into the kitchen. Placing it on the counter, she picked up her coffee.
Katie eyed it dubiously as she sipped the dark, richly creamed brew. She knew what it was but she wasn't sure she wanted to open it. Inside lay a doorway to a place she feared, a place she couldn't imagine herself ever going.
Katie James had an orderly life. The owner of a popular photography business, she didn't want or need anyone to tell her how to spend her time. When the handsome gentleman at the gallery had started talking to her, she didn't think it would go anywhere but she'd agreed to a coffee date to discuss a possible art installment.
It started as a simple business proposal. He'd asked if she would be willing to photograph an erotic series at the House of V. She had done boudoir sessions before but he hinted that this would be a little more than that. When she asked for more information, he stated that the House of V was a private estate that held events for the sexually adventurous. It was a place of fantasy and deepest desires fulfilled. The very notion filled her with a simultaneous sense of curiosity and fear.
Though he'd extended the invitation to join him, she'd politely declined. She was not some idiot that just went to strangers' homes. He made no apologies but bid her a good afternoon and left her sitting at the coffeehouse table.
When she returned to the office later that day, she ran an internet search for the House of V, but no results were forthcoming. Big surprise there, he was probably just some pervert looking to get off on smutty photos that she most certainly was not going to take. Still, she couldn't help that niggling curiosity gnawing at the back of her brain.
Putting down her mug, Katie toyed with the seal on the envelope. Her need to know finally got the better of her, and she slid her finger under the edge of the flap. The seal snapped free, and she released the card from its velvety cover.
Friday the 26th
8:00 pm
1645 Violet Trace
Bring your key
What key? The rest of the envelope was empty, the back of the card blank. She raised it to her nose and inhaled the fragrance of something dark and heavy—a smell she couldn't quite place. Katie shivered even though the room was warm, and the coffee now coursing through her veins piping hot.
The 26th was this Friday. Only four days away. Of course, she wasn't going to go. It was the last thing she wanted to do, the last thing she should do.
Nevertheless, as the week passed she thought about it more and more. The gentleman, John Hanson, had come back to her gallery and had produced some artwork that she was interested in putting in a show.
The more she dealt with him the more comfortable she became. He didn't seem at all like the pervert type. John was elegant and had a graceful way about him. He made no mention of the black envelope and she wasn't about to bring it up.
Then, suddenly, Friday was upon her. Katie went into the gallery as usual where a bouquet of black irises met her. There was no note but the small envelope held a black plastic card with a gold key embossed on it. Bring your key. She shuddered at the implications running through her mind.
Focusing on work became impossible. Katie stared at the key on her desk for the better part of the day until finally, she decided to leave early. Her assistant could handle the rest.
Her car seemed to make its way to the boutique shops of its own accord, and Katie decided to get her hair trimmed and styled. On a whim, she had her nails cleaned up and even got a pedicure. She felt all shiny and new as she made her way home. Somewhere between the blowout and the nail polish, she'd given up trying to convince herself she wasn't going to the House of V.
* * * * *
That night, Katie made a light supper before combing her closet for something to wear. She wanted something casual yet professional. It was only photos, after all. John was just a client, charming as he was, and she intended to treat this like any other job. After perusing her wardrobe for far too long, she chose a black pinstripe suit and comfortable heels.
The drive was short and the evening warm. Katie found herself at the address at a quarter to eight. The black iron gates stood before her, their presence imposing. A large Victorian V, the same emblem that was on the wax seal, was inset into the hard metal.
There was a small call box beside the driveway but it had no buttons. Just a small square with the golden key on it. Two security cameras focused on her.
On a hunch, Katie touched her plastic key to the call box and watched breathless as the gates swung silently open. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. Her heart beat faster in her chest. Her only chance to turn back was now. Two whole minutes passed before she drudged up the courage to continue guiding the car up the drive. It's only photos, she reminded herself, letting out a long breath.
At the end of the road was a large brick house. A slim man stood waiting at the steps. When she pulled up, he walked over to her car and opened the door for her. With white-gloved hands, he motioned toward the large double doors before retreating behind another doorway nearby.
The heavy red doors carried the now familiar seal in black. Definitely the right place. They opened as she approached, and a woman dressed in a black and white tailored suit waited for her to enter.
"Good evening Miss. James," she smiled, warmly. "Please follow me."
Instead of seeing Mr. Hanson, she was greeted by a dark-haired woman in a red suit seated at a large desk.
"Sit, please," the woman gestured to the soft leather armchair in front of the desk. "Welcome to the House of V," she said with a smile as she spread her arms widely to encompass the grand hall. "I'm Victoria, I'll be helping you with the paperwork."
"Paperwork?"
"Yes," the woman called Victoria waved her hand absentmindedly before dumping a stack of papers onto the desk. "Non-disclosures. I'm sure you're familiar with these kinds of business forms?"
"I am," Katie answered, unsteadily. "But I thought I was here to photograph a session." The nervous twinge in her stomach was starting to set in again.
Victoria flashed a patient smile. "You are, but privacy is of the utmost importance to our clients."
"I see." Katie muttered, leafing through the five pages of fine print. It looked like a standard NDA, albeit much longer than most.
It stated that she would not speak of the House or anything that happened within it. All images were the property of the House and she would not be able to use them.
"This is all very strange." Katie said, looking up. Doubt rang in her mind. She shouldn't be here.
Victoria's serene professional veneer remained unchanged. "I understand your hesitance. It's not the usual procedure for your business, but I assure you, we provide generous compensation as well as the use of all of our equipment. All you have to do is capture the images and we'll do the rest."
"Your equipment?"
