Room 2C

You climb the stairs of the motel, a little wobbly in your heels. Thankfully, you don't have to go through the lobby. No doubt the staff would have pegged you as a hooker right away, with the way you're dressed. And tonight, that wouldn't be far off. Liz may not be paying you for tonight (except with the underwear she bought you yesterday), but she is most certainly pimping you out to her husband.

Thinking of that gets you a little giddy. Your heart races, your head swims. You fumble with the key that Mrs. Fowler left you, struggling to get it out of the envelope as you reach the top of the stairs. The door to room 2C is just as battered as all the others in the motel, the paint on the sign faded and worn with years of wind and rain and snow. You slide your key through the out-of-place card reader and open the door slowly.

The idea in your head is a grand entrance. Catwalk strut, proud look on your gorgeously made-up face. Make Eric Fowler realize what an excellent night he has waiting for him starting from the second you walk in the room. His reaction changes your plan a little.

Eric Fowler is sitting on the end of the bed when you open the door, looking as nervous as you feel. That makes sense; according to Liz, he hasn't fucked around like she has. This is probably the first time in years he's had a night ahead of him with any woman other than his wife. He looks up when he hears the old door creak open. You expect a look of joy, of arousal on his face, and to a degree, they're there too. His words are the most telling, though.

"Oh, fuck," he says, and not with excitement, either. Your heart drops. What have you done wrong? "Oh fuck, Hayley? Hayley Beck?"