Catching my breath, I leaned against the door from the inside for a moment. “I'm in the booth,” I whispered into my earpiece. The smell of the place was very distinct and took my breath away. It was sharp, slightly sour, tart, with a hint of disinfectant and cleaning perfume. In the dim light I could see paper towel dispensers, a waste bucket with several towels in them, and a leather seat with a screen above. To the left and right side were small metal sliders at waist height.
“Good,” she replied, “does it have holes?”
“I think that's what this is,” I said, touching one of the sliders and pushing it. It was slick and sticky, and I noticed some dried stains underneath it, with a few fresher ones running down the wall. Behind it was an opening that led into the adjacent booth. “Yes…” I said dryly, starting to realize what was going on in here.
“Very good,” she said satisfied. “Now serve every one that comes through there.”
