The evening had kicked into full gear by the time I reached the second-floor railing. The main hall below was alive—lights flashing red, blue, and gold across the dance floor, speakers thumping so hard I could feel the bass in my chest. Bodies moved everywhere, some in tight groups, some pressed close, arms in the air, hips swaying to the beat.

I leaned my forearms on the cool metal railing and looked down. A water bottle dangled from my fingers; I twirled it slowly, watching the plastic catch the different colors.

"That’s a lot of people for today," I muttered under my breath.

The place was packed. Couples danced face-to-face, hands on waists, foreheads almost touching. Groups of girls laughed and jumped together in little circles, drinks held high so they wouldn’t spill. And then, like always, the groups of guys—standing on the edges, eyes scanning, some trying to slide closer to the girls, throwing cheesy lines or bumping shoulders "by accident." Nothing new. The security guys in black shirts moved quietly along the walls, watching everything. The waitresses in bunny outfits walked through the crowd with trays, keeping extra eyes open. If anything crossed the line, they’d shut it down fast. They always did.

"Lara will be here any time now," I said to myself, letting out a long breath. I scanned the hall again, looking for a woman who matched the photo—long dark hair, cream dress swapped for something else maybe, that same quiet look in her eyes. Nothing yet.

"Damn..."

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Down on the dance floor, maybe ten feet from the edge of the crowd, a woman was already deep into the night. She looked drunk—eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed, body loose. Red dress, short, ending high on her thighs. She leaned back against some guy, rubbing herself against him slow and obvious. Her ass pressed right into his groin, rolling in small circles. The man didn’t hesitate. His hands slid down, grabbed both cheeks firmly, and gave a couple of light thrusts from behind, matching her rhythm.

She giggled—high, bubbly, tipsy—and spun around in his arms. Her hands went straight to the back of his neck, pulling him closer so their faces were inches apart.

"I wish my husband were this good to me," she said, voice teasing, loud enough that I caught every word over the music.

The guy grinned, one hand still squeezing her ass, the other sliding up her back.

"Ahh, that’s too bad," he said, leaning in so his lips brushed her ear. "He doesn’t take care of you properly, huh?"

She laughed again, head tipping back a little, letting him pull her even closer. Her dress rode up higher when she moved. They didn’t care who was watching. A few people around them glanced, smirked, then went back to their own dancing.

The music pounded harder now, a deep, rolling bass that shook the railing under my arms. Down on the dance floor, colored lights swept across sweating bodies and spilled drinks. The air smelled like perfume, alcohol, and hot skin.

The woman in the red dress was still swaying, drunk and loose, her short skirt riding up every time she moved her hips to the beat. She leaned heavier against the guy behind her, voice flat and slurring.

"Yeah... he doesn’t at all," she said. "Work, work, work. That’s all he does."

The man grinned, teeth flashing under the flashing lights. His hands were already low on her hips.

"Don’t worry, darling," he said, voice smooth and low. "I’m here for you tonight. I’ll take all that stress away."

He gave her ass a light slap—sharp enough to make a small sound even over the music. She giggled, high and wobbly, then turned in his arms. Her hands went straight to his shoulders. She pulled him down and kissed him hard, messy, no hesitation.

He didn’t waste time. One hand slid under her thigh, lifting her leg and hooking it around his hip. His other hand grabbed her ass fully, squeezing, pulling her tight against him while they kissed deeper.

Nobody around them even blinked. Couples kept dancing. Groups kept laughing. A few people glanced over, smirked, then looked away again. This was Heaven’s Feel. Open, loud, no shame. Everything was allowed as long as money kept flowing.

A few steps away, near the curved leather couches along the wall, another scene played out like it happened every night. One guy—suit jacket off, tie loose—was sitting back with two girls tucked under his arms. One had already unzipped his pants, her head dipping down slow and steady as she gave him a blowjob in open. The other girl straddled his thigh, kissing his neck, his jaw, his mouth—long, wet kisses that left lipstick marks. His head tipped back against the cushion, eyes half-closed, a lazy smile on his face as he held the girls head and started thrusting his dick upwards in her mouth.

I watched for a second longer, then let out a slow breath.

"It’s the wildest club you can find in this country," I muttered to myself. "No wonder all the elites come here secretly."

The bass thumped on. Sweat and laughter and perfume mixed together.

Then—through the noise—I heard the soft, familiar chime of the front door opening.

I straightened up at the railing. One of the waitresses near the entrance looked up toward the second floor. She raised an eyebrow at me, then lifted one finger—quick, clear signal.

My client.

I nodded once, short and sharp.

My eyes moved to the open doorway. The waitress there smiled politely, bowed a little, and reached out to take someone’s hand. She helped the new arrival step inside, careful and smooth, like she was welcoming royalty.

I couldn’t see the face clearly yet—backlight from the street lamps outside made the figure dark against the bright hall.

I pushed off the railing, water bottle still in my hand.

*Hope it’s not trouble,* I thought, walking slowly toward the stairs. *Hope everything goes smooth. In and out. No talking after. No feelings. No extra connections.*

The memory of Elizabeth flashed quick—her soft laugh, the way she looked at me like I was more than a job. I shook my head hard once.

*I don’t want that again. Not now. Not ever.*

I took the first step down the wide staircase, eyes still locked on the doorway. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Whoever it was, they were already stepping fully inside now. Time to go meet Lara.