No looking back now.

The next day, during your lunch break, you receive a text from Gemma asking you to meet her at an address downtown later that evening. You're unfamiliar with it, but know the area is sketchy at best. You wonder how someone who's only lived in the town for three months would be familiar with such an area, but nothing Gemma does would surprise you anymore, not after what happened last night. You call Rebecca and let her know you'll be home late. She doesn't suspect a thing, of course - your relationship was always a trusting one.

After work, you drive to what might be one of the most run-down neighborhoods you've seen. You double-check your phone to make sure you've got the correct address, but you appear to be in the right place. You're standing outside a well-worn brick building. It appears to be some sort of bar, but there's no signage on the outside. Pulsating neon light leaks out from the cracks of the door and gaps in the curtains in the front window, and you can hear the faint sound of music coming from within.

As you enter, the few patrons inside turn to look at you for a moment before returning to their drinks. The aged wooden floor is sticky beneath your feet, and the entire place stinks of stale booze. A row of security monitors is positioned behind the bar, with a surly-looking bartender in a soiled white apron flinging beers at a few guys seated at the stools. A large mirror lines an entire wall, as dirty as the floors and windows appear to be.

You spot Gemma sitting at a booth, wearing a plain black dress, made of light silk and a simple pair of black flats. It's obvious she is bra-less underneath, with her perky nipples pressing through the sheer fabric.