Naya walks in, cheeks pink, eyes already heavy with want.
But the room is cold.
Dim.
Smells like wine and sin.
Janelle's sitting in the armchair with her legs crossed, silk shirt half-unbuttoned, sipping red wine lazily like she owns the universe.
"Strip."
Naya pauses.
"Excuse m—"
Janelle doesn't repeat.
She just tilts her head, watching.
Amused.
Naya swallows, drops her coat… her blouse… slowly undressing under Janelle's sharp, unchanging stare.
When she's finally bare, Janelle stands.
And with a flick of her fingers
Click.
Silk ropes from her purse.
Naya's wrists tied to the bedposts.
> "Tonight," Janelle whispers, close enough to brush lips, "you're just an expensive toy I'm returning after I'm bored."
Naya's eyes widen—but her thighs clench.
Then it starts.
The Game:
Blindfolded.
Janelle doesn't touch her at first just talks. Dirty, wicked, teasing words that have Naya squirming.
She runs an ice cube down her chest…
Then her tongue.
Then bites her thigh hard enough to leave a mark.
"You like playing games, huh, Naya?
Thought I didn't know what you were doing all this time?
Let's see who wins now…"
Naya begs literally begs for touch.
For anything.
But Janelle?
She just smiles.
Leans down.
Whispers:
"You don't get to come until I say so. And if you do… I'll leave you here alone. Naked. Tied up."
Back home…
Mirabel stares at her phone.
Something feels off.
She can't explain it, but Janelle's text was too cold.
Too… clean.
She opens the drawer.
Finds the receipt from a hotel.
Sees the name "Naya."
"Why would Naya's name be on Janelle's desk…?"
Something is wrong.
---
To be continued