Micheal always loved the few short hours before the club opened its doors for the day; they were quiet and it allowed him to simply enjoy the manufactured beauty of his establishment.  Red and black were the dominant colors throughout the two tiers of the club, from the rich, red carpets in the entry way to the black-stained wood of the bannisters.  High, stained glass windows wrapped around the top of the club, each one expertly crafted and depicting Art Nouveau scenery of dancing men and women, gods and goddesses and a plethora of other images pulled from the imaginations of the artists he had commissioned.  The main sitting and dining area was all dark mahogany wood floors, with the cushioned chairs and ornate tables all made of a lighter oak.  It dominated the lower floor, with a wrap-around bar and stools claiming the far north wall.  Above, more private booths and sitting areas were set aside, with thick, red curtains to seal off any unwanted attention.  A wide stair case led to these more secluded areas, made of black wrought iron and black and white veined marble.  Everything was ornate, gilded and purposeful; all designed by its owner with his clientele in mind.<br/><br/>The third floor, the basement, was another matter all together and the primary reason he had named his establishment "Sinner's".  It was there, accessible only by a hidden elevator, that the true vices of his clients were sated.<br/><br/>Many thought "Sinner's" was a pose, upscale night club in the heart of New York City but in reality, it was one of the largest BDSM clubs in the state.  Only the most elite of personages were admitted to the Sanctuary, as the basement level was dubbed, and only then were they allowed to experience all of the earthy pleasures his specially, and oft personally, trained staff had to offer.<br/><br/>Micheal grinned wryly at the thought of what went on beneath where he sat.  Nothing was forbidden down in the Sanctuary, as long as it was consensual.  He had a lawyer on retainer for any troubles that might occur and the police took their cut without complaint and without bothering him.  The world he had crafted for himself was perfect and he loved every moment of.<br/><br/>It was mid-morning by the time he broke free of his reverie and stood, stretching.  There were only a few members of staff milling about, setting up for the day's business.  They were all as sharply dressed as he was; Micheal favored suits and he was dressed in a tailored, black and grey pinstriped suit.  His dark red tie gave a splash of color to his appearance.  His brown hair was cut short and stylishly and he was clean shaven.  He was a handsome man but that was to be expected of one of his social status.<br/><br/>He sat back down and opened the manila folder in front of him.  It contained a list of applicants and their resumes.  A few of his waitresses and a hostess had been let go after stealing money and it was high time to replace them but most of all, he was looking for a personal assistant, someone who could help him keep "Sinner's" running smoothly. He scanned the resumes quickly, his dark blue eyes taking note of one in particular.  Nora.  Nora Lane.  He paused and picked up her resume, looking over the details with mild interest.  Top of her class, four years as a personal assistant to some high-profile banker, all the right degrees... she seemed perfect.<br/><br/>Perhaps she would prove to be so once he interviewed her.  He only hoped she was as beautiful as she was intelligent, for the job of personal assistant could be defined so many ways and he secretly hoped she, or the candidate that would come to be his assistant, would come to fill them all.