You enter Gaby's apartment

The sound of the elevator doors fully opening, followed by the distinct click of high heels on tile, severed the last thread of his resolve. He couldn't be seen like this. Not by strangers. The towel was a flimsy fiction, but it was the only fiction he had left.

"Inside. Now, please," he hissed, the words barely audible through his gritted teeth.

Gaby's smile was a victory banner. Without a word, she stepped back, pulling her door wider in a silent, sweeping invitation. He practically dove across the threshold, the brush of her body against his as he passed sending a fresh, unwanted jolt straight to his already-throbbing cock.

The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the sounds of the hallway. He was in. The immediate, overwhelming scent of her apartment enveloped him—vanilla candles, clean linen, and underneath it all, that expensive, floral perfume. The space was stylish and open, all soft neutrals and tasteful art. Sunlight poured in from the balcony, illuminating plush rugs and a deep, inviting sofa.

He stood frozen just inside the entryway, his back to the door, breathing heavily. The relative safety was an illusion. He was now alone with Gaby, in her territory, wearing nothing but her towel. And he was fully, achingly hard now. The thin fabric was stretched taut, the outline of his erection obscenely clear, the damp spot at the tip growing. There was no hiding it.

Gaby didn't move toward the living room. She leaned back against the door, arms crossed under her breasts, and just… looked at him. Her gaze was a physical touch, roaming over his shoulders, his chest, the trail of hair leading down, before settling on the strained towel. She let the silence stretch, letting him feel every second of his exposure.

"So," she said finally, her voice a low, intimate hum in the quiet apartment. "Here we are." She pushed off the door and took a slow, deliberate step toward him. "You know, when Chloe texted me that you'd be coming over, she said you might be… shy. She didn't mention you'd be so impressively *equipped*."

He flushed, a hot wave of humiliation and arousal crashing over him. He tried for a joke, his default setting. "All part of the service. Towel delivery with a… bonus feature." It fell flat, his voice shaky.

Gaby chuckled, a rich, warm sound. She stopped just inches away, well within his personal space. He could feel the heat radiating from her. "The towel, Ethan," she murmured, her eyes not leaving his. "You still have something of mine."

His hands twitched at his sides. The knot felt like the only thing holding his world together. "The key," he blurted out. "Chloe said you have a spare key. For my door. I need it to get back in."

"Ah, yes. The key." She made no move to get it. Instead, she reached out one hand, not touching the towel, but hovering just beside it, her fingers tracing the air near his hip bone. "It's around here somewhere. But first things first. My property."