By the sea, in the sun, is a magical hotel where all your wildest fantasies can come true. I can’t tell you where it is, or even what’s it called – you wouldn’t find it on any travel websites anyway. Only a select few are invited to stay, and even then they need the cash to cover the costs. Dreams don’t come cheap after all.
Truthfully, it isn’t the kind of place straight-laced, buttoned-up Gillian Greene would typically find herself, but it was one of the perks of her promotion. For twenty years she had been grinding and and clawing her way to the top, and she felt that she deserved an all expense paid, all needs met, no questions asked, trip abroad. Her colleagues had all been, and although they didn’t go into too many details they all raved about the place.