A man stood before the brothel named 'Pleasure House'.
He looked like someone's gentle husband, mid-thirties, wearing a simple shirt and trousers, the kind of man who might pick up his kids from school.
But he walked in with a confident smile.
The entry corridor was narrow, dim, and smelled faintly of perfume and old wood. At the end of it waited what the locals dramatically called Utopia.
It was a wide, cylindrical hall. Human-sized portraits hung along the curved walls and even lay on parts of the floor. Each portrait showed a woman in a revealing dress and seductive pose, her details written neatly below: her customer rating out of a hundred, her specialties, her history, and most prominently, a highlighted personal quote.
In the center of the hall stood a massive rectangular pillar. Three of its four sides were lined with much larger, beautifully framed portraits. What made them striking was not the frame, but the numbers at the top.
One had a number three and a customer rating of 99.3 percent. The next had number two and a rating of 99.5 percent. The last, number one, had a near-perfect 99.9 percent.
Behind the pillar, the curved wall was covered from top to bottom with illustrations of sexual positions, fellatios, foreplays, types of orgasms and similar images. In the middle hung a huge menu board like something in a restaurant.
The menu had two rows: different kinds of sexual acts on one row, and corresponding point values on the next.
A reception desk stood before this mural. A beautiful woman sat behind it, dressed modestly compared to the portraits. Only her head and shoulders were visible above the desk. On either side of her, two women in seductive one-piece outfits stood like ornamental guards.
The man walked straight to the desk without glancing at anything else.
The receptionist smiled warmly. "Welcome to the Pleasure House."
He glanced at the large menu behind her with a puzzled expression.
She noticed and smiled. "You must be new. Would you like me to explain how everything works here?"
He nodded.
"The left side lists different desires," she said. "The right side lists the points needed for them. You can choose any number of them. The points add up." She motioned toward the portraits. "Each woman has a level. Your total points are multiplied by her number. The final result is the cost in silvers. After you pay, her room key will be yours for three hours, not a second more."
The man stared blankly.
She explained again. "For example, regular sex with protection is twenty five points. Foreplay is ten points. Choose both and you have thirty five points. If you select a woman with a level of one hundred, you pay thirty five times one hundred. Three thousand five hundred silvers."
His face lit up. "Ah! Now I understand."
She nodded. "The three women on that pillar are our top earners. Each has a level of one thousand. Everyone else is lower."
He gave the pillar, the portraits, and the board one quick look. Then he placed a shining credit card on the desk.
The two women on either side whispered to each other, eyes wide. "An alpha card…" "Only fifty exist in the whole world…" "Made of white gold…" "Just the metal is worth a fortune…"
The man smiled confidently. "I will choose a woman after I see her with my own eyes. Then I will decide what I want. Keep the card until I return."
Without even glancing down, the receptionist slid the card back toward him. "Things here do not work that way."
He slowly pushed it back, raising his brows. "Is it real?"
She sighed. "Your charm is irritating."
Turning to one of the women beside her, she said, "Take him up and let him do as he wishes."
The woman placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured for him to follow.
He brushed her hand away and leaned in toward the receptionist until their faces were only inches apart. His gaze locked on hers.
"I don't want your bodyguards," he murmured. "I want you."
Her eyes widened. But she recovered quickly, stood up, and stepped away from the desk.
"Ria, take charge for now," she told the woman beside her.
Then she walked to the pillar. On one side that held no portraits, she pressed a hidden button. The wall split smoothly down the middle and slid open like an elevator.
They stepped inside.
"Women with levels between one hundred to two hundred stay on the first floor," she said. "Two hundred to three hundred on the second, three hundred to four hundred on the third, and so on. The ninth floor holds the top three women. Which floor shall we go to first?"
"We start from the beginning," he replied.
She pressed the button for the first floor.
When the doors slid open, the hall resembled the bottom floor but was much smaller. About fifty doors lined the circular space, each leading to a private room.
They stopped at door 101.
A narrow passage led to a small room: a little bed, a closet, a chair. A woman in her mid-thirties sat on the chair. Slightly overweight, with sagging breasts and a face older than her body, she wore a skin-tight blue uniform with the Pleasure House logo, a honeybee on a sunflower.
She stood and greeted the receptionist with genuine warmth, then the man with a stiff, forced smile.
The receptionist looked at him. "Would you like to spend your night here?"
He shook his head immediately.
"You may continue to rest," the receptionist told the woman.
They moved on to door 102. A red light glowed above it.
"This room is occupied," she said. "We move to the next."
They passed a few more doors until they reached 105. A board on the door read: No bondage, use protection, no rough sex.
The receptionist asked, "Shall we go in?"
He nodded, and they stepped inside.
The passage here was shorter, and the room opened into a soft glow of dim yellow light. A beautiful woman sat on the edge of a neatly made bed. Her body had the kind of effortless allure that could tempt any man, and her face held a playful charm that made teasing her feel irresistible.
She greeted them with a warm, sweet smile.
The receptionist turned to him. "Will you spend the night here?"
Again, he shook his head.
She moved toward door 106, but he stopped her hand. "These women are not my standards," he said calmly. "We will check the upper floors."
She nodded, and they returned to the elevator.
"Which floor should we visit?" she asked as she hovered her finger over the buttons.
"Last floor."
Just before she pressed the button for the ninth floor, he caught her fingertip and redirected it to button ten.
She immediately spun toward him, her eyes widening. "That floor is off limits!"
He stepped closer, smiling thinly. "Why is your floor off limits?"
"You know it?" she asked surprised.
He blinked as if acknowledging the truth.
The elevator reached the tenth floor. He stepped out first.
A cylindrical wall encased the elevator chamber. He paced along it, trailing his fingers across the smooth surface until he stopped at the back. There, a door was outlined in the wall, a single clock embedded at its center.
"What pattern would a sexy woman like you choose?" he asked, tapping the clock with interest.
He rotated the hour hand to eight. "Maybe the time you wake up?"
The woman remained silent, watching him closely.
He turned the minute hand past six. "Or perhaps the time you sleep?"
Then he pressed the discreet button next to the clock.
The wall split open.
He glanced back at her. "What is 8:34?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the clock, stunned.