Basement ; audience
She had arrived in trappings of false white and had quickly shed them on her way through the rooms, torn bits of silk and lace a Hansel and Gretel trail through the building. An intrepid trailsman could follow them to find their way into the basement. A child could follow them. She didn't care who found her, reclined in a chair, bare feet on another nearby, wearing nothing but the ivory silk slip that had been under the dress, cuts and tears ignored and yet hiding nothing. Her hair was a rich red, the same bloody color as her mouth, and the only hue about her. The contrast drew the eyes, pulled in seduction that was unspoken.
Her own gaze was only sometimes upon the stage, searching for quarry among those offerings and her fellow bidders. She had no obvious cash on her person for purchase, but she would find someone. Her eyes, her scent, the confident way she crossed her legs, not caring how much thigh showed, guaranteed success.