WIP - "In the Red Light Backrooms..." (Patreon)

I wasn't going to enter a story into Literotica's Halloween contest, but I have a pretty  interesting idea that might work out.  This one is influenced by the Backrooms concept.  Just the first principles concept.  I know - like the SCP Foundation - the Backrooms has a ton of background lore created by a lot of different people.  I'm not intending to go into that or add to that, just 'borrow' the concept of someone ending up in a weird place (which has been around in horror for a while).

Here's a rough draft of the intro to set the scene and whet the appetite.  I don't even have character names yet.

It's also very much in progress.  Progress has been a little scratchy so far, so I thought I'd post the opening snippet here and hope there's enough enthusiasm to give me a good kick up the arse to get it written in time for the contest.

[Character Name 1] and [Character Name 2] noclipped out of reality on an otherwise unremarkable summer morning at precisely 11:01.  The where from was a corner of De Walletjes, more infamously known as Amsterdam's main red-light district.  [Character Name 1] and [Character Name 2] were there – and let's not beat about the bush – to get laid.

As for the where to...

The corridor of doors stretched off into the distance before turning to the left.  Around that corner would be another long corridor of doors leading to another left turn.  Sometimes it would turn to the right.  Sometimes – more rarely – it would end in a T-junction.  It never opened back out onto the street outside.  If there was even an outside.

The corridor was narrow and claustrophobic, with a low ceiling.  The floor was covered in thick linoleum – mushy and slightly tacky.  The air carried the tang of stale sweat, cheap perfumes, and – beneath it all – a hint of something far less pleasant.  It called to mind sordid and illicit pleasures.  Illumination came from fluorescent tubes running along the ceiling.  They washed everything in a wan glow – sometimes red, sometimes pink.

If the lights dimmed, you ran.

If the lights flickered, you ran fast.

Each door had a large glass window.  For most of them a red velvet curtain was pulled across to hide the room on the other side.  For some that curtain was pulled back to reveal a feminine figure dressed only in lingerie.  Always attractive.  Always sexy.  Never human.

[Character Name 1] remembered the words of the Irishman.

"You have to pick a door, but it has to be the right door."

How do you know if it's the right door?

"Do you think I'd still be here if I knew that!"

[Character Name 1] hadn't seen the Irishman in some time.  Maybe he'd found the right door.  More likely he'd walked through the wrong door and never returned.

[Character Name 1] heard a wet snuffling phlegmy sound.  Far off behind him... for now.

Time to move on.