Two brass sconces bracket a pair of dark-wood double doors, their LED candle bulbs flickering warm and steady—pure ambiance, fully code-compliant. Each door bears a solid brass handle shaped as a leaping dolphin, echoing the club’s logo: cool at first touch, then subtly warmer if you’re welcome.

The door faces are carved in low relief—tasteful scenes of lovers in the style of Indian temple panels. No keyhole, no keypad, no visible lock. The entry simply does not yield to the uninvited; minds that aren’t meant to enter lose the impulse to pull.

The doors swing inward without a creak. A thin brass strip in the threshold warms underfoot as you pass. The rooftop’s music and the surf drop to a hush, like a room leaning in to hear you.

Salt-clean air with a thread of citrus and cedar. Amber pools of light from shaded sconces and lanterns. Underfoot, wide planks of oiled hardwood carry a circular brass inlay—the Wheel—now set as a halo around the centerpiece of the room: a broad, low platform bed.

A layered stack of hospitality-grade mattresses, each encased in discreet, matte vinyl, then dressed in fine, breathable sheets and a soft top cover. The platform is low, stable, and quiet, with rounded edges and hidden tie-offs for securing fresh linens. The Wheel’s brass ring encircles the platform flush to the floor—more compass than spotlight—marking the space for intention, rest, and chosen intimacy. Couches and low tables form conversational islands around it, inviting people to sit, talk, and witness without crowding the center.

Carved wood panels in a modern language with soul—clean geometry softened by hand-cut curves that echo waves and the line of a dolphin’s back. Each panel is oiled to a mellow sheen that warms the light and calms the room.

Deep cushions, low benches, and woven throws ring the central platform.

A small table holds matches, a bowl of sea glass, and a card in Jessie’s hand: All minds are sovereign.

Along one wall, an apothecary counter offers teas, tinctures, and bitters with a ledger of blends and intents. Nothing is poured without purpose.

Curtains of heavy linen can be drawn to shape the room—open for shared work, narrowed for quiet focus.

Toe-kick cabinets: Flush, touch-latch panels along the base of wall cabinetry and the platform bed. Soft-close drawers reveal wipes, sanitizer, gloves, spare sheet sets, pillowcases, and small towels.

Hidden hamper & waste: A ventilated pull-out hamper (lidded) and a lined waste drawer sit behind identical panels to keep the room sight-clean; odor-control sachets tuck into each bay.

Service niche: A low credenza near the apothecary disguises a micro “freshen” station—counter wipes, a compact caddy for quick turnovers, and a silent step-can—accessible with a gentle push.

Under-platform stash: Two long drawers beneath the bed hold fresh vinyl encasements and folded linens for rapid resets.

All cabinetry reads as furniture; grain-matched fronts keep the lines uninterrupted.

The room is tuned for intimacy: whispers stay whispers; sharp tones flatten into gentler waves. No neon, no glow—when workings begin, the change is felt in breath and focus, not spectacle.

A discreet set of sliding doors, flush to the paneling, connects (when needed) to Jessie’s private suite; otherwise, they remain closed. The hall doors seal with a confident hush behind you. Inside, city and chatter fall away. Here, intention has room to speak.