Taking a deep breath, IMB writer Beth Vaughn stepped into the darkened room. The aroma of stale alcohol and cigarettes overwhelmed her. She was greeted by a blonde woman who eyed her suspiciously. When Vaughn met a group of prostitutes, she said, "[she] wasn't sure what to do, other than stand there, smile and nod like a fool. Finally, almost without even realizing it, [she] began to pray."