Hotel traversal

Of course, it’s only a few steps down the hotel corridor before you realise how incredibly exposed you are. Your shiny latex dress and high heeled boots still cover you, and while it was embarrassing enough late at night, now it’s early morning. You’re like a prostitute the morning after.

“Ray…” you say uncertainty. At the same time you limp hard. Your injured ankle and high heeled boots make walking troublesome again.

“Of course, you want me to carry you like last night?” he replies, misinterpreting the reason for your concern.

“No!”

“Alright!” and suddenly he’s up against your side, arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you towards him. Off balance, you find yourself leaning on him for support, your own hand on his shoulder to help.

Despite the closeness, you find it does help keep the weight off your bad ankle, so you both continue like this down the corridor. It doesn’t help that your dress hem starts sliding down again, constraining your legs and making you more dependent on support to make any forward motion.

The elevator ride is tense, at least from your side. Not a word is spoken, but you find yourself looking at the emergency stop button, images from yesterday flashing into your head, almost feeling like a film you saw rather than something that happened to you. Ray makes a motion, and you look up to realise that he saw exactly where you were looking. He smiles and gives you a squeeze.

You want this to be over, you so want this to be over. But soon you’re stepping out into the hotel lobby in a shiny dress with womanly curves and makeup with smartly dressed Ray by your side.