Inside, the hotel lies in ruins. The lobby furniture has been overturned and shoved aside. Rooms sit open and ransacked, and the few beds currently free of occupants are in bad need of a change of sheets. Throughout it all, bimbos make out with each other with complete abandon, regardless of location or convenience to others. At one point, you find yourself shoving a pair of your sisters out of the way of the elevator doors so that you can take it to the sixth floor. Something about that floor calls to you, and you just know deep inside that it’s where you have to go.
When the elevator opens, you step out into a familiar hall that feels totally deserted. All of the occupants of the upper floors have either fled or joined the ranks of your giggling sisters below. Torn garments lay scattered on the carpet, and a lone service cart sits abandoned against the wall, a congealed steak dinner on its surface. Again, you get those flashes of memory indicating you had been this way, running from something. From someone.
Trying to sort out these feelings, you almost miss the fact that you had stopped in front of a door. The room number fills you with a sense of rightness. By now, you are getting familiar with this phenomenon, and you follow it with a bit more trust.
Sadly, whoever had been staying in this room had left it empty and wide open. You enter and look around anyway. Compared to the rest of the building, this room seems rather neat, with only the bedclothes in disarray and a strange, ragged hole in the door. Staring back at the hole, a mental image of a dainty fist bursting through solid wood mere inches from your face comes to you so strongly that you jerk backwards, knocking a suitcase off a nearby chair.
Then, the vision disappears, leaving you even more confused. What was that?
Inspecting the garments at your feet, you frown. They all seem to be a man’s clothes. So boring. You’d much rather have the man.
Just when you start to turn away, however, you spot a wallet lying open where it had slipped out of a trouser pocket. In the transparent sleeve up front, you get a clear view of an ID card. Kneeling down, you take the card out and admire the handsome male face looking back at you. Just imagining how this sexy hunk was wandering around out there waiting for a hot girl like you to ravish him made you feel all warm and moist inside.
Then, you see the name: Brad. Brad! It’s that name again! Only this time, you now have a face to go with it. As your eyes dart back and forth between that tiny photo and that name, you feel your fuzzy brain stirring once more.