The brothel was a new implant into an old city. It is said that it can fulfill any fantasy—slake any taste, quench any lust. It provided something for its clients that could be met nowhere else. The price for entry, of course, was high. But then again, the quality of service at the brothel exceeded expectations in every way imaginable. Simply put, no one ever left unsatisfied. They always came back for more. For the right to spend their nights there, they paid handsomely indeed.
The building itself was ornate yet comfortable. Patrons would be shortly greeted by a pleasant-looking and smiling hostess who could simply 'take care of all of the details.' By the time they'd ever even seen the baroque vestibule, those clients had already paid exorbitantly.
There are no lines, but booking is done by appointment. A customer was meant to feel as though they had been transported to a magical world—for who could say that they hadn't been? The building felt 'otherly' enough that you might as well be lost in some fey dreamscape. The hall seemed spacious, making one feel small. The golden hue of the warm lights daze and fray the edges of vision, making focus difficult to maintain. The clients were expressly made to feel like they were being swept along to fulfill their wildest and basest dreams.
It was before the entrance that your feet had drove you onward. Your obsessions rattle around in your head like a jar full of loose change as you step through that first entrance. The lights are warm and bright here; more like an antique dance-hall than a den of sin and debauchery, you reflect. Still, your steps carry you forth. A pair of smartly dressed valets with white gloves and youthful faces peel the ornate and heavy double doors open for you, sealing them behind you as you go.
The hall lay open for you, a promise of that which was to come. Almost as if it was too soon, you stood before that promised receptionist, a smiling and pleasant vision of a woman stood behind a booth with a lamp and a registry.
"Welcome, Mr. Smith," she says. "How may we please you?" Her voice is soft, feminine, and soothing, her eyes large and dark pools that draw you in.