A pleasure house come dining experience; catered to your every need. Or so the glossy brochure reads.
Essentially, an elevated red room. As discreet as it is expensive. A den where vampires come to quench their thirst when blood bags fail to satisfy.
How long has it been since I fed my lusts with a warm body? Years? Decades? Gone are the old days where I could snatch a hearty meal from the street.
My fangs ache as I flick through the brochure, half-heartedly searching for someone that will appease my appetite.
I could just order blood from the bar above. An opulent art-deco affair, all fashioned in sleek walnut and chrome. A front for the more sinister and illicit goings on downstairs, where I'm sat in an equally grand waiting room. But I said I'd see this through, and I will.
There are no photographs of my prospective meals. They're categorised by gender and the only available characteristics are age, height, weight and blood type, next to made up names listed like dogs at the pound.
Coco
Luna
Trixie
All waifs if their credentials are accurate. And likely addicts who found themselves here while searching for their next fix. A fix they'll never get.
I'm not interested in that. I want a woman. A full blooded, full bodied woman.
I loosen the tie at my neck and the petite red-headed concierge meets my eye. She's what my sire would call a glampire. All style, no substance.
"Have you found what you're looking for?" She says in a slightly too-high voice.
I shake my head, thumbing more pages absently.
She stands, approaching me with her pen dangling from her mouth. "We specialise in catering for all tastes." She winks and I clench my teeth.
"Why don't you tell me exactly what you're looking for, and I'll do my best to meet your needs?" She sits to my right, resting her manicured hand on my thigh.
"I want a woman."
She laughs. A forced, shrill sound.
"Oh, we have plenty of women, Mr. Dalcour, you're going to have to be more specific." Her thin fingers squeeze my thigh and I lower my eyes to her hand until she takes the hint and removes it, picking up the brochure instead.
"Do you have a preference for blood type?"
"No. And I don't want a user." I don't want the headache and cravings that follow.
She presses her hand to her chest in mock outrage. "Mr. Dalcour, I can assure you we are not that kind of establishment. All of our offerings are given a mild sedative to help them settle into their roles but that's all."
I mentally scoff as she skips forward a third of the brochure, running her finger down the page.
"Do you have a budget in mind Mr. Dalcour? I wouldn't want to over promise and under deliver."
"No budget."
"Fabulous," she grins. "What about Roxy? 23, 5ft 6, 121 pounds, A positive.
"Too young. Too thin."
"Hmmm," she muses, "Do you prefer blondes or brunettes? Or maybe something a little more exotic?" She twirls her pen around a curl at her temple.
I lean forward to look at the page. "There are no photographs."
"No, Mr. Dalcour, but I know all the women currently residing at the Crimson Lounge. Perhaps there is something off-menu that I could offer?"
I don't have a preference for hair colour but her incessant flirting has me issuing a curt, "Brunette."
"Perfect." She smiles but it's strained. "We procured some very delicious brunettes only this afternoon. So fresh, they haven't even made the brochure yet."
She stands, returning to her mahogany desk and bending over to press herself against it, her legs spread as far as the tight pencil skirt will allow.
"Are you sure I can't get you a drink while we deliberate?" She coos over her shoulder, bottom arched up and wiggling.
"No."
She hmpphs before straightening herself out and returning with a thin folder.
She scans the page inside. "Too young. Too thin. Oh, what about this one? 32, 5ft4, 146 pounds, O negative."
"Clean?"
Her smile widens. "No previous history of drug use. In fact she passed our medical with flying colours, the only thing of note is a nut allergy."
"She'll do."
"An excellent choice Mr. Dalcour. I'll have Mishka prepared for you. You'll have an hour. Any time over that is charged at double the rate. That includes any additional cleaning services."
I nod.
"Would you like a private room?"
I frown. "Are the rooms shared?" What kind of 5 star premises is this?
"Oh, no, no. Not unless you want them to be, of course. Some clients like to enjoy a show while they're here, so many of our rooms have a discreet viewing window. They can see and hear you, but you won't be able to see or hear them."
