Screaming in Hotel Harmony

The place was Hotel Harmony --- but I was staying there for work. A moderately priced hotel in a post-industrial city.
It was nearly vacant too, with nary a visual note as to where the Harmony was. No wellness focus, no dancing shows, no suggestive fliers. Just a name.
But as I settled into my room that afternoon, there came an unsettling noise from somewhere close by. A female voice crying out in waves of … something.
I went out for a walk.
Coming back, all was quiet. Until 10.00 pm when the voice revived, writhing in the throes of passion.
Yes, it was next door. Very much next door.
Too late to read, nowhere to go, and not possible to sleep. Should I ask for another room? Test the voice recording option in my phone? Knock on the door to see if any assistance was needed? And what was in that room, anyway? I was the involuntary voyeur, able to hear but not to see. Somewhat aroused, but certainly not satiated.
And yet another episode woke me up around midnight.
The hotel computer may have furnished the needed clue. It was stuffed with images of women in various bondage outfits. Maybe there was a connection. Or maybe not.