Goes to hotel

Riley drove the short distance to the Ritz-Carlton on Wilshire in a haze of adrenaline and nerves, the Urus’s headlights cutting through the dark streets of Beverly Hills. Her phone stayed silent—no more texts from “Alex” since she’d left the house—but the final messages burned in her mind: blindfold, room 1408, no face, just cock. She’d grabbed a black silk sleep mask from her drawer on the way out, the kind she used for afternoon naps, now tucked into her purse like a weapon she wasn’t sure she’d use.

The hotel loomed ahead—sleek glass and gold trim, valet already waving her forward. She handed over the keys without thinking, heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. The lobby was quiet this late—soft lighting, marble floors, the faint scent of expensive candles. She bypassed the front desk, heading straight for the elevators like she belonged there. No one stopped her. No one asked questions.

The ride up to the 14th floor felt eternal. She stared at her reflection in the mirrored doors: uniform skirt still on, blouse untucked now, top buttons open enough to show the edge of her bra, knee-high socks rumpled from the day. She looked like exactly what she was—a high-school senior playing at being grown, about to walk into a room with a stranger who wanted her blind and spread.

The doors dinged open. Hallway carpet muffled her footsteps. Room 1408 was at the end, door slightly ajar just like he’d promised— a thin slice of warm light spilling into the corridor.

Riley paused outside, hand on the knob, pulse roaring in her ears. This was it. Last chance to turn around. Last chance to text him “never mind” and drive home to her safe bed.

Instead she pulled the silk mask from her purse, slipped it over her eyes, and tied it tight behind her head. Darkness swallowed everything. She took one last breath—shaky, excited—and pushed the door open.

She stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind her.