You step through the three‑story claw‑shaped doors into a cathedral of mist and neon. Deep purples and blazing hot pinks wash over reinforced obsidian‑glass floors as the bass vibrates through your bones. Velvet ropes wind between chrome‑lined stages and sunken stone booths, and the air hangs thick with pheromones, ancient moss, and the heady scent of sweat.

A lithe Velociraptor perches low on a puddle‑lit platform, her sleek scales gleaming from obsidian black at her snout to deep burgundy along her tail. A strappy leather harness wraps around her ribcage and strong thighs, the crisscrossed straps secured by obsidian buckles, while tiny fishnet thigh‑bands cling just beneath her hips. She balances on clawed feet, head tilted, her golden eyes lock onto you, pupils narrowing in playful appraisal.

She flicks her tongue across razor‑sharp teeth and tilts her head, tone low and sultry as she purrs, “Welcome to Cretaceous Heat. I’m Razzle, and I promise you’ve never felt hunger like this before. Where shall we begin? Something fiery on the main stage, or a dip in The Abyssal Lounge to cool off?”