Rated M for(almost) all the things. Primarily drug and alcohol use, sexual themes and situations, physical/emotional violence and generally just an adult tone. Reader either beware or enjoy!
The address Eli gave to the cab driver would drop her in font of a a six-story renovated office building in a recently-gentrified neighborhood that sat right between Prestigious Harvard and more accessible Boston University, an area that was quickly coming to be known as either 'Artists Alley' or 'Freakshow Avenue' for all of the up-and-coming artists and musicians come to rent out apartments and lofts from which to ply their varied trades, close to both the colleges and the rich old money of the city that supported their lifestyles.
Inside, the offices and cubicles hadn't been so much removed, as they had been re-purposed, some walls being knocked down and others left up, creating sort of 'maze' of walls and pillars, all painted stark white, displaying paintings, photographs, and murals that ranged from bland to beautiful to the bizarre. The floor plan essentially forced any visitor to wander their way through the maze, taking in the sights, to get to the reception desk and waiting area in front of the elevators on the far side of the room.
At the desk, a bleach-blonde beauty who could easily be a model herself was sitting in front of a computer, talking into an earpiece, answering questions and making appointments in-between sips of a smoothie, ignoring the redhead until she finally found break to look her up and down, as if judging her, before nodding to herself and extending a hand.
"Welcome to Visual Noir. Name and appointment?" She asked, seeming already bored of the conversation already now that she was done appraising her.
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