“Please… Not— not like this?” Dana paused, holding the latex hood. Valerie’s expression was sad— grieving. Dana could tell that the feelings were genuine, that the girl was not bratting. She did not understand why that day was so different from past days, in honest did not understand the plea— not like what?— and she felt heat rising in the back of her neck.

The evening before. Dana and Lucca were in an unremarkable cocktail bar, the closest spot to their client’s office, where they could sneak off for a celebratory drink. They sat facing each other across a small two-seat table, leaning in to hear each other more easily over the din of tech workers drinking their after-work drinks.

Dana was unusually quiet for the rest of the morning, and Valerie tried to be on her best behavior, for fear of worsening the woman’s mood. Dana showered, disappeared into her office for a few hours of work. Around lunch time, she summoned Valerie to the bedroom.

“Good relationships are about communication. How can she meet your needs if you won’t tell her what they are?”

A week slipped by with Valerie scarcely realizing; with little discussion, Dana returned to what passed for normal routine. Valerie’s newly complicated feelings about the situation did not precisely fade, but they mingled with the day-to-day mix of boredom, frustrated arousal, pain, and pleasure.

Dana lay beside Valerie for most of an hour while the girl cried herself out. Valerie would have preferred to be alone in her sorrow, even if that meant curled on the bare mattress in the cell. Telling Dana to go away was not a choice she felt foolish enough to even consider.

A short story about love, pain, and making things worse for yourself.

Valerie felt Dana shift around on the bed; the latex hood obscured her vision, and while the imperfect seal let in a small amount of light, this only served to remind her of how little she could actually see.

Ness slipped out of bed on bare feet, and moved toward the inner bedroom door across wood floors, worn smooth by years and hundreds of different guests’ boots. She had kept one of the towels tied around her as a makeshift dress before bed, hesitant to sleep naked in an unfamiliar place— their clothes were not meant to be returned until some time in the morning. She was grateful for that choice.

The bath was incredible. Ness moaned in simple ecstasy as she lowered herself into the hot water. After days— weeks? She had lost count— of living rough and of so much walking, the feeling was absolutely exquisite. She swore she would never step foot outside a city again.