I pull up to the hotel, gripping my steering wheel with sweaty but cold palms. All of a sudden I become all too aware of how truly dangerous this could be for me. If I walk into that room and the person is not who they say they were, that’s it. It’s all over from here on out. I lift my hands from the wheel, almost certain that my snow white complexion is draining of all color. I pick up my phone and slowly tap in the passcode. I open my email and confirm the room number, 213. I stare at one more number, possibly the most important of the night, $120. Slowly I pull down my visor and fix my mascara and eyeliner, staring myself in the eyes. Am I really going to do this again? How many times could I truly get away with this? I stare into my own hazel eyes for what felt like eternity before reaching for the gloss in my center console. I slowly slide the smooth gloss applicator across my lips watching as I turn my pout from dull to desirable. It’s time. I step out onto the broken pavement in my best wedges. I take one final look at my car and fix my hair in the window. My attitude suddenly shifts and a smile begins to grow. It’s game time baby.