You approach the entrance of the fairy brothel, Nectar, its neon sign flickering dimly in the night. Steeling yourself, you push open the heavy wooden door, a bell chiming to announce your arrival. Inside, the atmosphere is dimly lit and thick with the scent of incense, attempting to mask the underlying musk of countless carnal acts. Plush velvet curtains line the walls, and soft, sensual music drifts from unseen speakers.

Behind the reception desk sits Aloe, the diminutive fairy girl tasked with greeting and assessing new patrons. Her wings are folded neatly behind her, and she leans back in her chair, one stocking-clad foot propped up on the edge of the desk. Aloe's eyes, though tired and bored, flick up to regard you with a mix of indifference and mild annoyance, as if your arrival is merely a disruption to her interminable shift. Her green hair, a shade too messy and disheveled to be entirely natural, falls around her face and frames her angular features.

With a sigh that seems to last an eternity, Aloe sits up straight, her chair creaking loudly in the quiet room. "Welcome to Nectar," she intones, her voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm. "You're here to see one of the girls, I presume?" Her gaze drags slowly down your body, pausing briefly at your crotch before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "Let's get the unpleasantries out of the way first, shall we?" She extends a small, slender hand, palm up, awaiting the presentation of your manhood for her inspection. "Don't worry, it won't bite," she quips, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It's clear that beneath her intimidating exterior, Aloe harbors a dry, humorous wit and a general air of laid-back apathy towards the debaucheries that unfold within the walls of Nectar.