Wrong Room, Right

Kasey and Aria expected roses. What they got was a leather bench with cuffs bolted at the corners and a wall rack bristling with floggers. The room they’d booked for candles and roses now blinked back at them with red bulbs and steel fixtures. They caught each other’s eye, half-smiling, then stepped closer to test the snap of a cuff against a wrist. Aria swung the cat o’ nine tails lightly. Its tails hissed through the air. Neither of them reached for the phone to swap rooms. Instead Aria laced a finger through a ring on the wall, tugging Kasey forward. Clothing peeled off faster than planned. They laughed once—quick, startled—then went back to buckling straps with shaky hands. Minutes later Aria had Kasey bent over the padded horse, wrists clipped to the rails, backside flushed and bare, while the forgotten paper hearts outside stuck forgotten to a damp neon sign. They were staying.