From the erotic short story collections (novella) (novel?)

She drove back into the business district northwest of the Oceanfront district, in the heart of old New Cal, taking care to avoid any Metro attention. She parked her car, paid the meter fee and carefully retrieved the gun case from the back seat. Most normals wouldn’t think anything unusual about the weapon case which gave no outward sign of being anything other than an oversized messenger box with a leather strap. Anyone stupid enough to ask her about it would either get shot with her SR45 pistol hidden under her jacket, or a punch in the face depending on her mood. She slung the case over her shoulder and walked up the steps.  She looked up at the top of the high-rise building at the sign that had once read VARIETY, noting that some joker had smashed certain letters so that it read ET. It was still a impressive building even post Fall, while most of the street level’s giant rectangular windows had been smashed out and boarded over, some enterprising soul had painted the wood to match the color of the sandstone exterior. Tellingly, there was no graffiti. The main doors to the building had either been left untouched or replaced, and in front of them stood two huge tanned boulder shaped men in suits, with black hair neatly cut.  Nanshe paused for a moment as she realized these men might be brothers.

    “You have an appointment?”  one of the two Samoan twins standing at the door to the imposing building, speaking politely, in a surprisingly high voice better suited to a tenor singing falsetto.  Nanshe nodded and opened her hand. She dropped the single razor blade into the giant’s palm—it landed flatly as he nodded in acceptance. She wondered if he ever got accidentally sliced by his boss’s strange calling card, and then realized if he did, he probably didn’t care. 

    “Name?” asked the other giant man in a suit. He nodded too, when she told him, and pulled out a small handheld transceiver and spoke quietly into it a moment. The reply was short and garbled, blunt. “Please see the receptionist inside.” the giant said.

    The inside of the former People’s Bank was clean, neat, and spoke of incredible wealth. She wasn’t sure what kind of wood the floor was, maybe pine or oak, but it shined and looked spotless, as did the smooth, brightly lit walls. Large canvases of ugly modern art were equally spaced throughout the lobby. The furniture was plush black leather and caramel colored wood, and the receptionist at the large desk at the end of the lobby looked like a former fashion model for a hair magazine. 

    She was dressed in a expensive gray suit, and came around the desk to escort Nanshe to the massive elevator off to one side with the clicking of pricey but conservative heels. Nanshe was taken aback by that. Who found shoes like that anymore, much less wore them?