That Velour Night scent clung to me, like it had fused with my silk robe. I stood before the mirror, watching as the robe slipped from my shoulder—like it was spilling a secret.
My heart pounded, not out of guilt, but excitement. I was flushed, my breath shallow, my body humming with heat.
I touched the flame pendant around my neck. The gold was warm from my skin. It wasn't just jewelry—it felt like a message. A challenge. A promise. His words echoed in my head: "Anything he won't give you."
That photo—Daniel's car at the hotel—shattered me. Not with heartbreak, but clarity. It destroyed the lie I'd been living.
I was awake now. I grabbed my phone, staring at the unsent message. My thumb hovered: What do you want me to do? Before I could send it, another message appeared: Go to the room with the red door.
I froze. Red door? There was no red door in this house. Not in the hall. Not near the guest rooms. But my feet were already moving.
Down the hallway, past the guest bathroom, each step echoed louder. The air grew colder—unnatural. Then I saw it—where there had only been a blank wall, now stood a blood-red, glossy door. A brass snake coiled around the handle. I blinked, expecting it to vanish. It didn't.
I reached out. The door creaked open.
Inside: total darkness, but I smelled it first—leather, smoke, and something warmer. Familiar.
Candles flickered to life one by one, revealing velvet drapes, a lounge, and a single tall-backed chair in the center. On it sat a black box. My pulse roared. I moved closer.
Inside: sheer black lace with red straps like veins. A note:
Put it on. Kneel. Wait.
My robe slipped to the floor. I obeyed. The lace hugged me like commands. I knelt before the chair. Candlelight licked my thighs, kissed my chest, glided over my skin.
My phone buzzed.
A video.
I tapped it—and froze.
It was me. Last night. Touching myself. The flame pendant bounced on my chest. The footage was shot from outside. Someone had been watching. Someone who knew this house.
I should've screamed. But I moaned.
Another message: You've wanted someone to see you like this. Just say it.
Hands trembling, I typed: I do. I want more.
Reply: Then you're ready.
Behind me, I heard it—the door. Closing. I wasn't alone.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind me. My skin blazed. My robe hung open, my knees trembling. I looked in the mirror. I didn't recognize the woman staring back. Not the wife. Not the hostess. This woman had wild eyes, flushed lips, secrets all over her.
I splashed water on my face. It did nothing.
I slid to the floor. The tile cooled my knees. The robe bunched around my thighs—but I didn't fix it. Then I felt it.
A touch.
Not imagined. Not a hope.
Real.
It glided up my leg like a feather. My breath caught. My body froze. I was alone—but I wasn't.
A mouth pressed to my neck—hot, wet, claiming. The robe parted more. My nipples hardened from the air, from memory, from need.
I didn't scream. I moaned.
Fingers teased my chest, coaxing pleasure expertly. My legs opened before I realized. A voice whispered—not aloud, but inside me:
You've always wanted to be touched like this. To be owned.
I bit my lip until it bled. I didn't stop him. I couldn't.
The pressure built between my legs—rhythmic, perfect. I gasped.
The mouth brushed my ear: Next time, you'll beg. And then—
Gone.
The heat, the ache, the pulse—it stayed.
I stood, shaking. I clutched the sink. The woman in the mirror looked undone by a man she didn't even know.
My phone lit up.
Unknown: Did you like how I touched you?
I dropped the phone. But I knew the answer.
Yes.
I wasn't prepared for the sound—footsteps. Fast. Loud. Headed straight for me.
The bedroom door burst open.
Daniel.
His breathing was ragged. But his eyes—his eyes knew.
He looked at me. At my hair. My robe. My face. Then the black lace on the floor.
He picked it up with two fingers, like it was diseased.
"What is this?"
I swallowed. "I—"
He dropped it. Like it burned him.
"You've been seeing him here, haven't you?"
I stepped back. "No—Daniel, I—"
He pulled a flash drive from his pocket. Held it up.
"I found this. You don't even care, do you?"
My heart dropped. He'd seen it all—the messages, the videos, the man who watched me like Daniel never had.
"You didn't even delete it," he said. "You let him see you. Over and over."
His voice cracked—not with rage, but hurt.
"You wanted him to."
My knees buckled.
Daniel took a step closer, then stopped.
"Who is he?"
I couldn't answer. I didn't know.
He looked at me. Something flickered—grief? Disbelief? The need to hate me, but he couldn't.
Then he turned. No yelling. No slamming.
Just silence.
He left. And I stood there. Heart naked. Secrets exposed.
My phone buzzed.
He saw you. Good. Now let him break—and let me put you back together.
I touched the flame pendant. And for the first time, I felt… chosen.
The house was still. Too still. I sat on the bed, hugging my knees. The necklace was hot against my skin. My phone stayed dark. Daniel was gone. My marriage—gone. But the man who touched me without touching me? He was closer than ever.
I looked toward the red door. Gone. Only the wall remained. But I knew better.
I felt him. The heat. The control.
And I wanted more.
I grabbed my phone—no new messages.
Then—
A sound behind me. Not a buzz. A voice.
Low. Male. Velvet and smoke.
He's not seeing you.
I spun around—nothing. Just shadows.
But I felt them. They'd heard everything.
I shivered. The pend
ant seared my chest. It wasn't glowing anymore. It was burning.
Because so was I.