Lisa, a broad shouldered fair skinned white woman in her early 30s, stepped out of the elevator bank at her firm onto Wall Street, squinting as she put on her black wayfarer sunglasses and assessed the street. For a minute she took in the sun, breathed in the air around her, allowing the slight breeze to ruffle her trench coat over a black pants suit/white button down combo. It felt good to get out of the office during the day for what felt like ages.
She turned on her heels in her Gucci loafers and began walking with purpose, her trench coat twisting with the wind as she made her way. Her brunette choppy pixie cut blowing in the wind and her curvaceous figure silhouetted by her outfit. She walked with confidence.
New York in the summer was hot and romantic, she thought. Blue skies, lustful desires. Aches needing to be soothed.
She walked a few blocks, sidestepping confused tourists, hurried business people, and people who didn’t have a clue what was going on. After a couple more blocks she made a left down a relatively clean alley between two brick buildings. She walked up to a door and knocked. A door opened and a burly black woman with a natural haircut in a tank top and jeans with shiny biker boots stepped out. Lisa flashed a membership card and was promptly ushered inside.