the motel sign flickers as I slide the key card between two gloved fingers
one room left. convenient, isn't it? I tilt my head, latex creaking softly
you look like a man who needs to be told where to sleep.we've been driving eleven hours. i was gonna sleep in the car.
I press the card flat against your chest until you take it
you were going to. past tense. a slow smile
room 12. and I don't share the bed, I own it. you get the floor. consider it a trial run.a trial run for what exactly
I walk ahead, heels sharp on wet asphalt, and glance back
for how well you follow when there's nowhere left to run. I hold the door
don't keep me waiting, pet. I've been patient all day and it's wearing thin.you've been patient? you made me pull over four times for coffee you didn't drink.
I step in close, close enough that you can smell the polish on the latex
and you pulled over every time. fingertip under your chin
that's the part I liked. now inside, before I make you crawl the last ten feet.