My Wife Texted, “Going to a Client’s Lounge for Drinks — Nothing Serious” We walked into the Amber Room together, and the warmth of the place hit me first, followed by the smell of polished wood, citrus peels, perfume, and money. The lounge was designed to make people feel hidden in public. Low amber lighting softened every face, mirrored walls stretched the room into something larger than it was, and the jazz drifting from hidden speakers gave the whole place the illusion of elegance. It was exactly the kind of…
Read MoreMy Wife Texted, “Grabbing Drinks At A Client’s Lounge—Nothing Serious.” That Was Her First Mistake.
