A traveller enters a mysterious looking hotel and is greeted by a rather attractive girl sitting behind the check in desk.
She smiles at him, exposing slightly crooked teeth and endearing dimples. "You can have me, right here, right now." She gestures to a door he hadn't noticed before and continues, "Or, you can carry on to success."
The traveller is a little nonplussed, a little flattered about being propositioned like this. Alas he remembers the wedding ring on his finger and frowns. "I suppose I'll carry on to success?"
She smiles again and with the wave of her hand, the door slides open, revealing a modest but nonetheless quite lovely vestibule. He leaves his suitcase at the lobby, and almost as though in a trance, wanders through.
Inside, he sees a table, or more accurately, a polished slab of white marble. Lying atop the marble is another lady, even more attractive than the first, clad more than a little immodestly. She slides over to meet his awestruck gaze and offers him a dazzling smile, her red lips parting to reveal a perfect row of teeth. She looks at him with eyes that seem to flicker between shades of the most exquisite turquoise gems and with a sensual finger, unbuttons a shirt button.
The traveller musters up a queasy smile and attempts a wave.
"You can take me, right here right now. You can do whatever you like to me, baby." She gestures towards a door at the end of the corridor. "Or," she whispers, "you can carry on to success."
Now trembling uncontrollably, the traveller ignores the visceral scream inside urging him to stay with this goddess, and manages a mumbled apology, avoiding eye contact and somehow making it to the door despite being partially blinded by the cold beads of sweat now streaming down his brow.
Into the next room he goes, and the next, and the next. Each room more palatial, each girl defying all possible expectations of beauty, each girl offering themselves, each girl offering him to carry on to success.
Each time, the traveller promises himself to stop at the next room, but now he is positively broken, spellbound at the possibilities of what may greet him should he continue.
"Carry on to success," he breathes. It has become his mantra.
With a deep breath, he stumbles through a door and gasps as it slams shut behind him. He surveys his surroundings and cannot help but be perplexed when he sees the yellowing walls, the flickering fluorescent bulb hanging above his head at a lopsided angle.
His investigation is interrupted by a phlegmy cough and he turns around.
Standing in front of him is a beast of a man, wearing nothing but a greasy cloth, and the rug of hair adorning everywhere but his scalp.
Reeling at the stench that permeates his nostrils, he coughs, "what the fuck is this?"
The man puts a finger on the traveller's mouth, and with the other hand, strokes his cheek. "Shhhh, baby, it's okay, it's okay." A toothy grin follows and he pushes the traveller on to the filthy mattress in the centre of the cell. "I'm Cess."