In the southeast of the Hudson Barrier, where the outskirts of real-world Brooklyn met the water, was a very special district. Its borders were formed by the copied infrastructure, inner-city roads forming a ring around it. In the real world, it was called Bay Ridge. A quite standard district of New York City, it was dominated by family houses, orderly placed along the grid of district roads, cutting everything into rectangles.

The real-world population was around 80’000 people. The idea that there were almost as many people in a single district as Fusion’s entire, roughly, 120’000 ‘members’ was downright sobering. It also meant that, like the Hudson Barrier as a whole, it was like a shirt five sizes too big for what John currently needed. There was absurdly more space in the Hudson Barrier than was actually required. Not even 10% of all of Fusion’s membership lived in the Hudson Barrier, although it was quickly growing to become the eventual major population centre of the Federation. Currently it ranked third, behind Washington DC and Boston.

That aside, the Bay Circle, as it was called on the Abyssal side, was the only district in the Hudson Barrier that had both a designation for building purposes and was entirely up for private individuals to ask for a building permit. There were other areas that were up for distribution to wanting land owners and other areas (all owned by John, Collide or Fusion, which did make some difference) that were to be filled only with facilities designed for a specific task. What industry was best left alone and confined to a singular area?

Sex.

Any city headed by John Newman, at this point a world-renowned playboy, would of course attract business of the lewd variety. Not that the Abyss lacked a want for perverted things in the first place. Using his last few grains of decency, John had issued a law, fairly quickly after the creation of the Hudson Barrier, that present establishments were to relocate there and future ones would go exclusively there.

The idea was, of course, that the Hudson Barrier was supposed to be a place where families could actually live and a porn shop at every third corner was not something John thought helpful to that end. Giving the industry a whole district to work with was still quite generous though. If it was ever completely filled out, it would doubtlessly be the largest gathering of sexual establishments in the world.

As it was, the area was just starting to change. The aforementioned family houses were being quickly replaced in the northwest corner of Bay Circle, having made room for about fifty buildings with more ‘business’ space. It was a thing that would doubtlessly spread over the entire district bit by bit. For the moment, it was just that clump though.

Red light was a predominant design element, to no surprise. John had only made clear that he would not tolerate oversized penis towers that could be seen from a distance. As long as it was day, he wanted people to be able to walk or dive by the Bay Circle without being assaulted by its nature. After nightfall, most things were fair game.

Pulling the key from the jet ski’s ignition, John therefore crossed the street into a real trip of a light show. Giant signs flashed for his attention, illusionary dancers followed a fifteen second routine of showing off and wiggling their fingers, and names that were equally alluring and comical tried to pique his interest. The only thing that really managed to catch John’s gaze was a tall corner building with walls entirely made from thinly framed windows. In the style of the Amsterdam red-light district, numerous girls were displaying their bodies there. Once they recognized who exactly was looking at them, they redoubled their efforts, but John looked away and moved on.

‘This must be the most lively place in the entire city, at this hour,’ the Gamer thought, not at all surprised. The place was positively buzzing, to the point that nobody walking around even stopped to recognize him. Only the owners of stores or otherwise working personnel had enough rest to concentrate on his specific face for long enough. Not that anybody approached him, that lesson had sunk into enough people’s minds at this point.

In the, unsurprisingly, predominantly male crowd, he heard a whole lot of languages. English, for the most part, as expected, then a wild mix of other languages spoken by mundanes and only by fantastic races equally. Out of those, Dutch was the one he recognized the most frequently. ‘I guess all the engineers I requested are having an impact?’ he thought. ‘I guess only single, young people would really take the offer to work overseas for a few years.’

As he had been to the Abyssal red-light district of Amsterdam, John had absolutely nothing against that development. If they eventually opened a restaurant around here where his girls could serve as the plates again, he would likely become some sort of member. ‘Maybe I should just sponsor that?’ he asked himself, but quickly perished the thought. ‘I don’t have the money right now and much more important projects. It’ll come when it comes.’

He passed a shop for sex toys and drugs, a bar with naked waitresses, a house with a large mask above the entrance for swinger gatherings, a voyeur cabinet and a number of other things. Many didn’t cater to John’s taste, were either too submissive or a bit too fringe, but nothing was so degenerate he was worried. Although he was principally against intervening in any industry, particularly sexual liberation, he also didn’t want to let a shop exist where people jerked off to hamster’s getting microwaved. Perhaps an extreme example, but weirder things have happened.

The largest building already in the district was the CPDI media centre. It was where John had his podcast with Cindy a while ago and it was currently being further expanded than originally planned. Quite possibly to compete with the SSSN outpost that was growing right across the street. Both buildings looked almost like normal building complexes right now, but John had no doubt that the eventual paint job and decorations would change that.

His steps didn’t carry him there, though. Instead, he took a sharp right turn. He passed a medium sized fast food place. Although there was some sort of mention of a blowjob coming along the upper cost menus, most people seemed to only buy the food. Even in a red-light district, people wanted to have some peace while eating, it appeared.

One building further and John arrived at the Little Whirl. Despite its name, it was everything but small. Aside from the porn news network buildings, it was maybe even the largest one around. The main body of the building wasn’t particularly tall, but went very wide, with a bunch of cylindrical towers sticking straight out of it in equal spacing. Only a particularly large, central one bucked the trend. With windows only between those towers, it was a simple but aesthetically pleasing building. Especially once the pink outlines of dancing women, painted onto the black stone façade, were taken into account. Made with no doubt magical colour, the equally alluring and safe-for-work shapes glowed softly in the night.

The large glass door was guarded by two bouncers in suits. One overlooked a row of people, waiting to be left in, the other stood idly. Either as backup or, more likely, to let VIP and invited guests through. John approached the latter without any worries, walking up the white-stone road that forked off the normal walkway and cut the front lawn of the establishment. There was the usual frustration about some of the semi-drunken youth that somebody got to cut the line in such a blatant fashion, but the Gamer didn’t care.

Hands in his pockets, John didn’t even have to wait for the security person to open the way for him. The second he was recognized, the door was held open for him. “Thank you for your visit, Mister Newman,” he was greeted in a formulaic but respectful way.

‘Must be spreading that I don’t like being called Mister President that much,’ he thought and walked in after giving the man a thankful nod. Through another automatic door, the entrance led him directly into the lobby. It was a white tiled, quite clean area, with potted plants decorating the corners and a slick, black and smoothly flowing reception desk at the back. Four ways led deeper into the building, two to either side and two at the left and right wall.

An attractive, redheaded receptionist greeted him with a well-trained smile. “Hello,” John greeted in a smooth voice, his Charisma and natural weakness to women coming right through, “sad as it makes me that you have to send me along, I am here to meet some friends. Would you happen to know where they are?”

“Of course, Mister Newman,” she responded with a voice obviously trained to be sultry. To someone who spends a lot of time around a moonshade elemental speaking in that tone naturally all the time, the difference was immediately recognizable. Faked or not, it was sexy.

“John is good enough,” he assured her, shifting his smile from friendly to flirty and leaning on the reception desk. “Do feel free to spread that to all the women working here. I am here for fun, after all, so be casual with me.”

“Where do you think you are?” the receptionist asked in a genuinely surprised tone. “Other women working here? This is a gay strip club.”

John’s smile dropped in favour of surprise for a moment. It was an impulsive reaction, although his mind had dismantled the joke before she even got the chance to look at it. “Being cheeky, I like it,” he laughed as well, truthfully. “But do tell me how this place works, I haven’t been here before.”

“The Little Whirl,” the redhead replaced her laughter with her professional tutorial voice, “is an outstanding establishment for equally outstanding gentlemen and ladies. Where other strip clubs only offer physically attractive women in a twilight setting, we at the Little Whirl stand for quality and visitor experience. The other girls and I are here not only to look good, but also to be interesting conversation partners, if you should so desire, and even more than that, should both of us desire.”

Gesturing behind her, in the direction the massive central cylinder must have been, the receptionist continued. “In this direction you will find the public area. You will find a vast array of our ladies there in a setting more akin to the usual strip club. Should things exceed the realm of just looking, sex is allowed wherever wanted, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the business running at large.”

She shifted her attention to the two hallways that stretched out to the sides. “There you will find the private chambers, to be taken only by being rented in advance or given to our… very… special… guests…” She overdid it a bit with the gasping in that part, but John remained interested regardless. “Who you meet in those private rooms can be filtered by your interests. You may also state your preferred clothing. While you will spend the night in the company of our ladies, we do restate that the sexual part of any engagement is based purely on consent and doesn’t come as part of the package. You will find that some of our girls wear chokers. White means they won’t engage in any sexual activity during work, while black ones are open to the possibility. Should you see any red chokers, it is an encouragement to be more straightforward about things.”

“I will keep my hands to myself unless wanted, got it.” John just nodded along, this all sounded very sensible. “Anything else I should know about?”

“If you had brought any of your harem with you, John, they would be allowed on the private stages, just in case that interests you.” The receptionist winked and then picked a card out of a holder. “In case you like our set-up, this is our sponsor. They would be happy to install a proper stripping setting wherever you want.”

John looked at the card for a moment, before throwing it into his inventory. “I’ll consider it,” he promised with a large smile. While he wouldn’t need this in the Guild Hall, there was the Sex Dungeon Building he could use instead there, other locations, like Servitude Island, could doubtlessly profit from such a place. “Three more questions, if I may.”

“Of course,” the receptionist smirked. A laughing group of new arrivals, five guys and one girl, walked past with a wave. Like almost all Abyssals, they were in very good shape. Yet another reason the sex industry was different in the Abyss. Looser morals and fitter people combined to form a steady want to indulge, with all the extra options that magic opened.

“Alright, question one… let’s say I or any of my friends manage to convince one of you lovely ladies that we are worth your time, are there private retreats?” Although John had, drunkenly, accepted fucking in the same room as other guys before, he would much prefer if he could opt out of that.

“Our private chambers are enchanted to be bigger on the inside and do lend the necessary space,” he was ensured. “For an extra fee, you are allowed to stay the night, but we are not a hotel.”

“Alright, second question, drinks and food, can I buy this sort of stuff around here or…?” He just let his voice trail off, the rest of the details weren’t important to the actual question.

“Second verse same as the first, John, there is everything you need inside your private chamber,” the receptionist looked down to the computer in front of her to check something, “and your handsome friend has already paid for our deluxe care package, so do drink and eat to your heart’s content.”

“Superb. Last question.” John straightened up again, ready to go and actually start the evening. It was also his turn to be a bit cheeky with her. “Could you tell me where they actually are now?”