#floor15starter

By the time Kinsley left her office and entered the club’s lounge, everyone for the most part had vacated the premises. As she took a seat at the black baby grand piano with drink in hand, she took a moment to appreciate the smell of expensive cigars still wafting through the air. The brunette couldn’t explain it, but there was something special about the first few minutes after closing; once the controlled chaos had fallen away, leaving a wave of calm in it’s wake Unlike Bennett, her counterpart, Kins had spent the past several hours averting crisis after crisis, all while simultaneously dealing with what felt like an ever diminishing inventory. That being said, instead of feeling exhausted, Kinsley felt ridiculously keyed-up. Something she always seemed to experience after an insanely busy night. Knowing she needed to find her zen, she took a sip from her lowball while dancing her free fingers along the slick keyboard.   However, before she could lose herself in the sounds of soothing jazz, she heard a few footsteps, followed by someone’s voice. With a heavy sigh, Kinsley glanced up from the piano and stared at her unexpected audeince, “Sorry, I thought I was alone,” she shrugged before placing her glass on the ebony colored wood, “would you prefer I wait until your done or would you like to make a request.” 

After donning on an appropriate dress, the Hollywood starlet made her way past security and into the up-scale night club. Normally she wasn’t much of a dancer, but for some reason, she found herself gravitating to the dance floor as opposed to the lounge or bar area. Yes, she heard rumors of fantasy suites, but she certainly had no desire to explore those. Not on her first visit anyway. Once she arrived on the correct floor, Morgan ordered a drink and immediately weaved through the crowd until she stood in the middle of the packed area. Unexpectedly moved by the surrounding gyrated bodies, the actress held up her drink in what turned out to be a futile attempt to avoid spillage. Unfortunately within seconds, her brightly colored drink unceremoniously splashed onto a nearby patron. “I am so sorry,” she shouted in order to be heard over the deafening music, “Seriously, please accept my sincerest apologies. I never should have risked bringing a drink onto the dance floor. I - “ she paused to look over the now drenched individual, “- let me make it up to you,” she continued before instinctively grabbing their hand and leading them back out through the crowd. As soon they were far enough away from the blaring bass to speak in a somewhat normal tone, she added still relatively loudly, “Not only will I pay for your dry cleaning, but how about you let me buy you a drink? Please, It’s the least I can do.”