De Wallen is home to the largest red-light district in Amsterdam. With a large network of alleys containing about 300 one-room cabins, De Wallen is notorious for prostitution and sex-oriented businesses. One of the most appealing features for this area are the infamous windows where sex workers would rent them to advertise themselves. Since nudity is legal in the Netherlands, it is very common that these workers display their attributes in this manner.
MacTavish fixed his black shirt as he peered at these windows making his way down the canal that divided the street in half. It was mostly brimming with tourists especially young lads who had too much weed to smoke and money to spend. He had to meet Reynolds at 2300 hours but since they had no comms due to Al-Jabbar's jammers, all he could was wait for her. Fortunately, for him, he did not have to wait long.
On the right-hand side of the entrance there was a queue of people of all ages waiting to gain entry to the exclusive club. At the door there was a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned bouncer with cornrows wearing sunglasses. He had a thick, golden chain around his neck, his expression rigid. However, that changed swiftly as a young lady coming out of the club strutting towards him. She even managed to catch MacTavish's attention until he had to hold his gasp.
Reynolds was wearing an extremely skimpy black dress with red stiletto heels. His eyes travelled from her slightly curled hair to her bright, red lips, down to her chest where a red, lace bra was peering from underneath. She strode towards him and slid her hand behind his neck.
"Hey baby!" she leaned in and gave him a peck on his lips.
He was flabbergasted and Reynolds stiffened in his arms already concerned that MacTavish wouldn't be up to the role. His arm slinked around pressing on the small of her back forcing her against him. He reached down and engaged her with a passionate kiss, firm but tender. His hand slid downwards on her ass, kneading it slightly.
"You look gorgeous, my love," he murmured against her ear.
"You make me feel so special, baby."
That is when anxiety started to settle in the pit of Reynolds's stomach. All this time, she was worried if MacTavish would be up to the task, but it never crossed her mind that it would be her not being able to be comfortable enough to act as his girlfriend.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him near the club entry. Putting on her most sultry expression, she grabbed a 100euro bill from her bra and handed it to the bouncer.
"He's with me."
The bouncer smirked and winked at her as she dragged MacTavish inside.
The club was stuffed with people dancing, drinking, grinding with each other. On the side, as Reynolds well described, were the VIP couches where he spotted Al-Jabbar lounging surrounded by the most gorgeous women one can ever dream to just acknowledged by. Guarding the cordoned off area were two private guards.
"There he is," she told him, her arm resting on his shoulder.
They sat at the bar where MacTavish ordered a whiskey and Reynolds two absinthe shots. She took them one after another and exhaled deeply.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"If you do, there is a high possibility that he might kill you. And you're too heavy to carry."
"Oh, I'm sorry that carrying my deceased body would be so much of inconvenience for you," he said sarcastically.
She winked at him and caressed his cheek.
"I'm going for it."
"Good luck."
The harsh, techno music was blaring in his ears as he took a sip from his scotch. He saw her approach the guards where they stopped her instantly. Al-Jabbar motioned them to let her pass. MacTavish suddenly felt the need to drink more as his heart started racing, trying to keep calm. She sat near Al-Jabbar and he instantly grabbed her by the neck and forced his tongue down her throat. MacTavish recoiled by this scene.
"Christ..." he mumbled.
In an instant, something caught his eye. Al-Jabbar's charm vanished; he fisted her hair and yanked her close. Her clutch bag still rested on her lap and MacTavish could only hope the phone cloning was still running smoothly. He remembered her warningto not interfere and carry on with the mission. Shifting restlessly against the bar, he forced himself to wait with bated breath.
After his backhand struck, she let loose a stream of curses, the two of them locked in a heated argument. Finally, she broke away and strode toward MacTavish at the bar. Her lip was busted open and bleeding freely. The hit must have stung because there was already slight discoloration around the injury.
Without a word, she took his whiskey, the ice still dissolving and pressed the cold glass to her cheek.
"Motherfucker," she muttered furiously.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"Shite," he said, rubbing his chest. "For a moment, I thought I had to carry on by myself. Does he normally behave like this?"
"Usually, it's much worse."
He swallowed hard at her last comment. He knew men like him; he interrogated them, neutralised them, and sometimes even worked with them. They were the most insecure men he had ever encountered and took out all that insecurity on their women.
In a split second, her arms looped around his neck, lips grazing his skin. He trusted her instinct and slipped an arm around her waist, playing along. Reynolds broke away just as quickly, flipping Al-Jabbar off. He returned the favour as he exited the club.
"They were watching us," she claimed and intertwined her fingers with his. "At least he won't be present during Phase Two."
She led him down into the underground, straight toward Al-Jabbar's office. Reynolds had warned him about this floor and holy shit; she hadn't been exaggerating.
The corridor glowed red, doors lining both sides, each one opening onto scenes stranger than the last. Some rooms held nothing more than couples tangled up in ordinary sex. Others were packed with full-on orgies.
But then came the extremes. In one room, women in black latex jerked men around by leashes clipped to their collars, forcing them to bark like dogs. In another, barefoot women stomped on cakes and piles of food while an eager crowd watched, aroused by the bizarre display.
"Jesus bloody Christ," he uttered.
Reynolds turned around and mouthed, "Told you."
He grabbed her from the wrist and yanked her forcing her back to crash into his chest. He rested his arm around her shoulder pressing on her chest as they looked in the room where the orgy was taking place. A tangle of limbs made it difficult to identify which men and women started and ended amongst them. Endless moaning and screaming echoing around them.
"Wanna join them, lovely?" he asked with a teasing tone.
She rolled her eyes and huffed. As soon as she tried to drag him away, a woman came out of the room wearing hotpants, stilettos, and a black and red corset, her breasts nearly slipping out of it.
"Hello, my dears," she purred, her eyes travelling to Reynolds's busted lip. "Interested in joining?"
"Very much so," smirked MacTavish.
"No," cut in Reynolds, panicking. "My boyfriend and I prefer a much more intimate setting."
"I can offer you a private room for 100 euros for an hour."
"We'll take it," he winked.
She led them down the corridor and turned to the right, away from Al-Jabbar's office. Reynolds tried to contain her nervousness as they walked the opposite direction of their objective.
She walked into the room as MacTavish paid the woman. The room was bathed in a soft, crimson light. A bed with black silk sheets and a matching headboard was in the centre while a dark velvet sofa was on the side. A champagne bottle with a serving towel stood near the sofa.
"Do you want me to join, big boy?" the lady winked, dragging her finger across his bare chest.
He turned to Reynolds with a large grin spread across his face. "What do you say darlin', you want to put on a show for me?"
She conveyed all the energy from the universe to prevent her from slapping the ever-loving shit out of him.
"Sweetie!" she squealed and put on an exaggerated pout. "You promised me that I could have you all for myself!"
"Aw you're right, ducky!" He turned to the lady at the door. "I'm sorry love, maybe next time."
"As you wish baby."
Reynolds's jaw ticked, enraged at how MacTavish was deviating from the plan. Huffing, she turned to him and hissed, "What the hell are you doing?!"