The prologue to a story I’m writing:

Cities are supposed to be alive, bustling, filled with people; this one however is dying. With each passing day it falls apart, decaying, slowly being eaten alive by ravenous, corrupt politicians and criminals. Buildings that once stood clothed in majestic stones, granite and marble pillars are exposed, naked and rotting; revealing only steel bones. Welcome to America’s forgotten child – the bastard offspring of an economic recession, neglected, and turned into a dumping ground for America’s tired, poor, huddled masses yearning for life, wretched refuse and homeless, tempest-tossed. Welcome to Starlet City.

It seems to always rain here; the only bit of brightness comes from police choppers scouring the skies, and from camera flashes, reflecting off the teeth of sleazy politicians. Those camera whores pose and stand in their tuxedos with hookers around their arms, laughing, answering questions by the journalists about “when change will be coming.” They all promise sunny days, better education, less crime, but they’re only here to stuff their pockets. Starlet City has economists baffled, as they say, “Never has America ever witnessed a quicker demise of any of its cities.” They all helplessly watched as in one day the industrial powers that provided 100,000s of jobs crumbled. Within a matter of months, smaller businesses closed up, and the city declared bankruptcy. She groaned in pain when hospitals, schools, police and fire departments shut down. She broke down and cried when those with money packed up left. One year later with the promise “better things to come,” the “public servants” stepped in, and restored the police, hospitals and schools. But it’s their cops, their hospitals, and their schools; and only those who pay the right price can benefit from these “public” institutions. Politicians now have their own cops, tip the scales of justice and define organized crime. They’re the law, order and disorder.

But go down two blocks from the housing projects, pass the dark underbelly of the city filled with abandoned parks, and buildings, and follow the sounds of up beat jazz music. Enter the Grand Lux Hotel.  It stands 70 stories in the heart of the city, watching and towering. It’s the meeting place of expensive tramps and deep-pocketed politicians; along with the occasional Hollywood stars who’re unfortunate enough to get stuck in Starlet. It’s a symbol, like the powerful and rich who make up only 2% of the city’s population, the Grand Lux rests in the midst of the filthy, wretched city as its most glamorous and tallest building.  Security is tight, only the right people can get it, but once inside its heaven. From backrubs to blowjobs the staff is there to please and serve – not that they have a choice. Every room has the finest quality of beds, and furniture, providing “scenic views;” and of course 100% privacy – soundproof windows, walls, and doors – so business stays personal.