A dark caption.

Judith walked into the hotel, happy to be inside. There was a strong breeze blowing and having still air around her was a relief.

She looked around the office, then heard a grunt and grumble and a short, portly man in cheap suit walk out of a back room. When he saw her, his demeanor changed. Gone was his initial grumbling replaced by a much more cordial mood.

"Hello, Miss, what can I do for you?" He asked.

"A room, please." She said.

"Any preference?" He asked. It was a four story building with a basement, but there were no rooms basement-level.

"No, not particularly. Do you have a television or a room phone?"

"In all rooms." He said with a smile. He was amused by that. What did she think of this place and if so, why did she come here?

"Good, thank you. I don't plan on making any calls, I was just wondering."

"Well, it does only go to here. We have two pay phones out front if you need to make other calls. Will you need anything?"'

"No, just a room, and, can you tell me, are there any decent places to eat nearby?"

"Only about fifty." He laughed. "In all seriousness, you'll have no trouble with food. Anyway, you're in room 211."

"Thanks," she said, taking her key. She walked over to a stairwell and then, seeing the elevator, opted for it instead. She waited for it to open, got inside, and let the doors closed as she hit the button for the second floor.

She never got there, Mr. Dawson knew. It wouldn't have mattered what she did, once she had stepped in and they knew she was alone her fate was sealed. Her body had been ideal, thin, in good health, and very pretty.

The men they had employed had just left the basement and the secret set of rooms in there, the ones that allowed them to discreet perform these surgeries. They had been a perfect place to do this, the movement of people providing a good cover. It helped that they were at a spot of the city where the good part of town and the bad met, making this a spot where people of all types could and would meet. It made it much easier to dismiss any suspicions.

A door opened and the portly owner walked into the room, seeing his co-owner standing against the operating table where his head had been stitched onto her body.

"What do you think?" Mr. Dawson asked.

"Good enough to take out to dinner first." He said with a laugh.

Mr. Dawson smiled darkly.

"What I expected you to say. Tell me, are we still going with the proposed payment plan?"

"Yes. Once I get a younger, stronger man's body they can operate here for six months for free. I would have never thought to do this."

"That's why you have me around." Mr. Dawson said. "So, do you want to wait until you get the new body, or do you want to test my new body out now?"

The portly man smiled, then started to unzip his pants.

"I guess there's no harm in a test drive!"