Yes, she help John get through

The muscle mommy's eye is wide, but she nods. "He's... with me," Demi says, her voice still raspy but firming up. "Mr. Big wants to see him."

The guards' expressions don't change. The one who spoke turns slightly, looking at a nearly invisible earpiece. A pause. A nod.

"Go on through," he says, stepping aside. "But if you cause trouble, you'll both find out why the meat locker in the basement is always full." John doesn't acknowledge the threat, simply pulling Demi through the heavy curtain.

***

They walk upstairs to meet this Mr. Big. The world on the other side is different. The pounding bass and chaotic energy of the club vanish, replaced by a thick, unnerving silence and the sterile, scent of antiseptic. The air is cool. They're in a long, white hallway, lit by soft, recessed lighting. The walls are pristine, the floor polished to a mirror shine. It feels less like a back room of a nightclub and more like a high-tech laboratory.

"Whoa," Demi whispers, her bare feet silent on the cold floor. "I never seen this place before. I been working downstairs for months never getting any invitation to meet Mr. Big."

Doors line the hallway, each with a small, numbered keypad. They hear nothing from behind them. All empty as Mr. Big associates are probably downstairs partaking in sexual gratify with the other sex pets.

John kept walking. He felt a sense of dread as they walk through the hallway. At the end of the hall is a single, large door. This one has no keypad. It's made of a dark, heavy wood, with a simple, brushed steel handle. In the center of the door is a small, circular window made of smoked glass.

Demi's grip tightens on John's arm. "This is it. I think," she breathes. "Mr. Big living area."

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