Room 102 had seen better days. Or decades. The bed was old, the chairs and tables barely functional, the TV out of the 1980s. And the painting, well, it was in no danger of being stolen. The ever-present heat soaked the room in dust, the curtains blocking what little light managed to force itself through the dirt-caked windows. A door led to a bathroom that had been cleaned, once.<br/><br/>"Perfect." Irina purred and pushed Alex in, towards the bed. The door slammed shut behind her. With a practiced movement, she pulled the too-big sundress over her head and let it fly to the side. She had a gymnast's body, every muscle chiseled, hairless from the neck down; her breasts are firm handfuls topped by small nipples, waist impossibly small. A vicious folder knife hanging by a thin chain from around her neck. Her steps predatory as she came closer, then grabbed Alex' belt buckle, trying to get it to unlock in one move. Her other hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at her.<br/><br/>"Team Awesome can take care of itself while we have some fun, right? Your boss won't mind, I believe. If he asks, just tell him it was fucking hot, and you had to take off your clothing, and then I jumped you. Which isn't far from the truth."