ELENA DUVAL
Twinkling urban lights. High heels and short dresses. Too many drinks and meaningless s*x hanging like inevitable in the air. Nightlife was in full swing as we made our way through one of the doors into the club. Dimitri guided me down a golden carpeted floor, with his hand on my arm and his presence by my side warming me inside out.
An electric beat pulsed through the walls as full purple and blue strobe lights flickered into the hall like they escaped the dancefloor. We took a right turn and then a set of stairs before stopping at a tall red door.
Dimitri knocked six times in a heavy rap with a short pause before the sixth.
We waited, and in less than a minute, the door opened, revealing a bulky, tall man on the other side of the door. His eyes first fell on me before the
