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The Collector’s Showcase
Oh, so lovely to behold…
In the mansion, behind a locked door bearing a knocker shaped into a crying angel’s face, is the rarest of museums known to man. But tread carefully, speak softly, and watch the spectacle to unfold. Men of high caliber in the world and women with exotic tastes alike frequent this place in the hours between midnight and sunrise. It’s the kind of institution that has made madmen of the most sensible of fools.
Drink deeply from your wine glasses as you walk through. The glass walls are one-way so that you can peer inside without your face ever being identified. Technology has worked wonders for collectors like Alexynder Vane.
His beautiful women — the toys he has seen fit to assemble from all around the world — lie in repose behind those glass walls. Their outfits vary from sensible to sensual, the environments range from surreal to serious, and every single woman is accustomed to the stares that follow them when they step into the world outside the mansion. But they rarely like to leave: caged birds sometimes forget the joy of being free and stretching their wings.
“Lovely,” go connossieurs like Randall Monaghue, a man who has frequented Alexynder’s museum for ten years. Rich men like him never know quite what to do with the money they make — just the getting and having become almost a…
