Ten rooms. Everyone in them wants something.
The building is the game. Every man you meet is standing in a room, and the room is why he's lit the way he is. Ten of them, from the door you walk in through to the one nobody walks through alone. Pick a room on the map to see who's in it.
From the door you walk in through to the one nobody walks through alone.
The street corner. A bouncer, a queue that isn't a queue, and the decision to go in. Nothing has happened yet.
The lobby. Plexiglass check-in window, a wall of key hooks, a vending machine and a vinyl bench. Amber lamplight. This is where you find out what you cost.
The lockers. Cold fluorescent, hard shadows, everyone pretending not to look. Where things get taken and where they get found again.
The showers. Dim cool white and haze. Brief, and busier than it looks.
The steam room. Tile, not wood — a deep blue dark you can't see three feet into. The oldest arguments in the building happen here.
The hot tub and pool. Lit from below by underwater lamps, caustics crawling across the ceiling. Nobody looks good in this light. Everybody stays anyway.
The Pen. The dance floor. Fourteen men, forty-eight cards, and a DJ. You come here to recruit and you leave with whoever you got.
The bar. He's three drinks in and he has a theory about you.
The hallway. The darkest part of the building — a narrow maroon corridor of cheap louvered doors and wet rubber tile, lit by sconces. Every door is a card. This is what "cruise the hallway" means.
The private rooms. One lamp, one bed, one door that's either open or it isn't.
The dark room. A bare red bulb and not much else.
The sauna. The end of the path. Daddy is in there. You need Favor 10 and three twunks to cross the Threshold, and you don't get to see him until you do.
Nobody walks in there alone.
One email when the launch opens. Bring friends.
One email when it launches.