Marigold takes the stairs.

The stairs were the safer bet. If the elevator stopped at any of the floors on the way up and let someone in, she would have no way of escaping them. Running into someone on the stairs would be awkward, but at least then she could actually run away. It was clearly the better choice.

When she stepped into the stairwell, Marigold was reminded of exactly how high up her hotel room was. Her room was on the seventh floor, and right now she was on the first. This would be a long walk, and she already felt terrible.

As Marigold began her climb, she had a moment to herself to think. She could feel the chill of the air conditioner on her exposed skin. Her skin flushed scarlet as she realized that the cold was actually making her nipples harden, and, glancing down at herself, she saw that they were actually visible through the sheer fabric of her stupid, slutty costume.

How could you, Mari? she asked herself. She had let herself be fooled by a lech and a con artist, and now she was suffering for it. The real Marigold never would have worn a costume like this.

She crossed her arms over her breasts in the hopes that they would warm up her chest, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of her nipples pressing against her wrists.