Chapter 8: The Meeting
I stood outside Heaven's Feel Brothel, staring up at those big golden letters gleaming in the morning sun. The black building loomed in front of me, all sleek and fancy with its royal doors. I let out a long sighhh and pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The vibe hit me right away—soft and light, not like the wild, dark energy that took over at night. Mornings here were calm, almost lazy. The place was decked out in luxury: plush red sofas lined the walls, a shiny bar stretched along one side with bottles glinting behind it, and a small stage sat in the corner, empty now but probably packed with dancers later. The air smelled faintly of perfume and polished wood.
A couple of waitresses spotted me as I walked in. They were dressed up—short mini skirts hugging their hips, long black stockings running up their legs, lacy bras peeking out, and bunny-ear headbands bouncing as they moved.
"Good morning, Ezra!" one of them chirped, flashing a grin as she balanced a tray. I gave them a quick bow, my usual hello.
"Morning," I said back, keeping it easy. "Where's Jonathan at?"
The other one, a girl with a high ponytail, pointed a manicured finger toward the ceiling. "He's upstairs, waiting for you." She leaned in a little, her voice dropping to a tease. "You know, Ezra, you come here every day, work your ass off—don't you ever get tired? You should hang out with us sometime, have some fun."
"Yeah," the first one jumped in, giggling. "We'd take good care of you. Promise."
I cracked a smile, shaking my head. "Someday, for sure," I said, playing along.
They laughed, waving me off as I headed for the small elevator in the back.