The Return of the Masked Mistress: GloryholeSwallows First Full

Glory hole Swallows

Glory hole Swallows Pic(s)

The old cinema had been abandoned for years, its marquee letters faded into ghostly outlines against the chipped brick facade. I pushed open the heavy side door, its groan echoing through the cavernous, dust-choked lobby. My footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, a relic from a bygone era of glamour now matted with grime. A single, dim light beckoned from the end of a long, narrow hallway, casting long, dancing shadows on the peeling wallpaper. The air was thick and still, heavy with the scent of old velvet and forgotten memories. I moved toward the faint illumination, my heart beating a steady, anticipatory rhythm in my chest. A simple, unadorned booth stood there, its wooden surface smooth from years of unseen, anonymous contact. The only feature was a small, perfectly formed opening in the partition wall, a dark portal promising connection without consequence. A profound silence enveloped me, broken only by the soft sound of my own breathing. In that quiet anticipation, the entire world outside seemed to dissolve into irrelevance.