Morgan stood outside in the rain while the doorman looked through the list for his name. Upon finding it, the man nodded, and the door to Beacon Inn opened. Morgan stepped inside, grateful to be out of the chilling rain. His leather jacket and pants were slick with water, and his hair hung down his back, utterly soaked and curling as it dried.
The entry room had been lavishly decorated with plush velvets in varying shades of red. Red lamps threw a soft, seductive glow upon everything. At the far end of the room, a door opened, and Morgan walked into the club. Black and chrome filled the main area, a sharp contrast to the decadent softness of the entry room. The DJ’s booth stood at the opposite side, raised on a platform above the dance floor. A bar ran the entire length of one wall, with
