Felix had lived a short sixteen years, and to describe the ordeal would likely take sixteen more. Setting the history aside, a notable detail about him was that he had never felt a romantic connection in his life. In fact, he found most vulgar acts to be revolting and embarrassing.
In his present situation — one he never imagined he'd inhabit — he could only cover his eyes and glimpse through the narrow gaps between his fingers. Unfortunately, none of his other senses were quite as selective.
The studio was gargantuan, a vertical labyrinth of floors dedicated to specific preferences and 'shows.' The air was a thick, sickening cocktail of heavy cologne, cloying perfume, and cigarette smoke.
At the reception desk, Felix finally, reluctantly, uncovered his face. A demoness sat there, resting her head on one hand with an expression of profound boredom. However, as her tired eyes landed on him, they gained a notable interest.
She began to size him up like a piece of livestock. As sudden as her glance, her expression shifted into a practiced, seductive mask.
"Hey there, handsome," she cooed, leaning forward until her cleavage was pressed firmly against the counter. She gave him a slow wink. "How can I help you?"
Felix flinched, holding a hand out in a reflexive, defensive gesture. "N—no! I'm fine!" Clearing his throat, he groaned and looked back at her. Her eyebrow was arched in genuine puzzlement; she was clearly unaccustomed to someone refusing 'services' in a building built entirely on the foundation of sexual gratification.
"I'm not here for. . whatever this is," Felix gestured vaguely, his face wincing. "I just need whoever runs this place." The demoness blinked. The confusion melted into a knowing, amused curl of her lips. "Oh, that's cute." She straightened up, dropping the 'babe' act but keeping a playful glint in her eyes.
"Here's a little secret about my boss: you don't ask for him unless you've got a reason worth hearing. You got a name, or are you just feeling bold today?"
The change in her posture and the way her voice flattened suggested she wasn't looking for a fight, just some relief from the monotony. Felix exhaled quietly, lowering his hand.
"I think 'bold' would have gotten me thrown out already," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But if I had a name to drop, I probably wouldn't be asking you where to go. So, does he usually make time for people without one?"
The demoness paused, tapping a long nail against the counter. She lowered her head, and though he couldn't see her face, he could hear the muffled sound of her suppressing a laugh.
"Funny man," she mused. "Short answer? No. Long answer?" She shrugged. "If you've got something interesting enough, rules tend to bend." Felix hummed in thought. "Well, I've got a delivery. Sensitive, apparently. And you don't strike me as the type to waste time on things that don't matter."
He tapped his pocket, waiting. To his surprise, she burst out laughing, slamming a hand onto the desk with a sharp thud. It had worked. He had mirrored her tone, giving her just enough of a hook to keep the conversation moving. He had gauged her perfectly.
As she quieted down, she wiped her face. Her playful edge hadn't vanished, but it had tempered into something more measurable. As her eyes lingered on him, Felix noticed a smear of makeup on her hand — likely from when she'd wiped her eyes. A worker as well as a receptionist, then.
"Give me a minute," she said, the teasing finally gone. She turned and began typing rapidly on a phone. Felix was left to the sounds of the studio, that being muffled music and the unique, unsettling noises of the trade.
His eyes flickered across the room. A pair of passing demons, one slowing just enough to look him over before being pulled along; another leaned against a pillar, watching with idle curiosity.
He ignored them, though his fingers twitched faintly. This could go wrong. He didn't know what she was saying or how this 'boss' operated.
For all he knew, he'd just announced himself as a target. The demoness tapped the desk again — a habit of anticipation, he noted. Her expression had shifted from lazy to alert. "Well, you've got his attention. Maybe you're lucky, or maybe he's just feeling generous tonight."
She jerked her head toward the back. "Hallway behind me. End of it is a private elevator. You'll see it." One last tap of her nail. "And if anyone stops you. . hope you can explain yourself better than you did to me." "Got it," Felix nodded.
She stepped aside, clearing the path. "Go on," she added with a hint of her earlier amusement. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting." Felix stepped past the counter, slipping into the corridor without looking back.
At the end sat the elevator — small, enclosed in polished metal that mirrored his own worn appearance. He caught his reflection: rich eyes, faint cracks lining his white skin, clothes dusted with red. He really needed a change of wardrobe.
The doors shut with a quiet finality, and the elevator rose with a soft hum.
𓋹
The doors slid open. The hallway ahead was longer than he'd expected, dimly lit with a faint, predatory red glow that clung to the walls. The air here felt thicker, heavier, as if the building itself were trying to steal his breath.
There was only one door at the far end, creating an eerie sense of isolation. Felix clutched the box of money tighter and mentally prepared to manifest his ammunition.
He opened the door and froze.The room was bathed in that same low, red light. Velvet furniture, gold-lined fixtures — whoever lived here had an obsession with the color of blood.
At the center of the room sat a man. He was impossibly tall, his lavender skin and remarkable fashion sense giving him the appearance of something like a monstrously elegant moth.
A demoness lay across a low table in front of him, posed as if she were a piece of furniture. He didn't even glance at her as he idly dragged a fork through a slice of cake resting near her rear, bringing the bite to his mouth with a chilling casualness.
Felix's grip tightened on the box. Then, the moth's eyes flicked up. They landed on Felix instantly, and then he smiled. It was an unnatural sight — rows of sharp, pink-tinted teeth that seemed to exceed the capacity of his lips to cover them.
Felix's chest tightened. Something about that smile was wrong.