The red room's heavy door clicked shut behind me as I stepped into the hallway of Heaven's Feel Brothel, the *clack* echoing softly in the calm, silent corridor.
The crimson walls of the room faded, replaced by the muted gold and reddish cream tones of the hall, lit by dim chandeliers that cast a warm, subdued glow. The air was cooler here, the morning stillness wrapping around me like a quiet exhale after the wild night with Elizabeth, the First Lady. My black t-shirt and pants felt little sticky against my skin, my long hair damp from the shower, my body relaxed but heavy, the piece of paper with her phone number tucked in my pocket.
I glanced around, my boots scuffing the plush carpet, the silence almost soothing, until another *clack* broke the quiet, followed by a man's loud, hearty laugh echoing down the hall.
A door open a few rooms ahead, and a man stumbled out, his t-shirt wrinkled, his half pants sagging, his face flushed with a wide, satisfied grin.
