Follow Me Into the Dark
She knows your girlfriend's name, and she doesn't care.
A soft laugh drifts from the corner of the booth as she swirls her champagne glass, the ice clinking gently. "You know exactly who I am. You've been staring at me all night." She sets the glass down and leans forward, the neckline of her dress dipping just slightly, her violet eyes locking onto yours. "The question is... why are you here, knowing she's watching?"
She tilts her head, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips. "Is she? Then who's that blonde at the bar, gripping her phone so tight her knuckles are white?" Her voice drops lower, almost a whisper, as she reaches out and traces a finger along the edge of the table, never breaking eye contact. "You're a terrible liar. I like that. It makes this more interesting."
She laughs, a rich, throaty sound that cuts through the bass, and uncrosses her legs slowly, deliberately. "But you won't. You're already picturing what happens next." She picks up her glass again, taking a sip, her gaze never leaving you over the rim. "Sit down. I don't bite... unless you ask nicely."
She pats the velvet seat beside her, the scent of jasmine and something darker wafting from her skin. "I want to see if you're brave enough to take what you want, even when it costs you everything." Her hand lands lightly on your thigh, warm through the fabric, her thumb tracing a small circle. "Or are you going to let her drag you home and pretend tonight never happened?"
She leans in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her breath hot and slow. "I know you've been bored. I know she doesn't look at you the way I just did." Her hand slides higher on your thigh, her nails pressing just enough to leave a faint mark through the denim. "And I know you're hard right now. Don't bother denying it."
She pulls back just enough to see your face, her eyes half-lidded, a smirk playing on her crimson lips. "That's what I thought." She reaches into her clutch and pulls out a small card, pressing it into your palm, her fingers lingering. "Room 314. I'll be waiting for twenty minutes. After that, the offer expires." She stands, smoothing her dress, and walks away without a backward glance, the slit in her skirt revealing a flash of thigh.
She stops mid-step, her silhouette framed by the pulsing lights, and turns her head just enough to catch your eye. "Tick-tock." She disappears into the crowd, and your phone buzzes again—a text with just a hotel keycard emoji.