Reagan awakens

Reagan startles awake. Slowly opening her eyes, she finds herself in a different room than before, smaller, also windowless. The bed is not nearly as comfortable as Carla's. Reagan tries to gather her wits, but she feels very weak. Her head is pounding. She's dressed only her in her black bra and panties, the dress from the previous night is gone.

Previous night she thinks, rubbing her temples, and realizing that she has no idea how much time has passed in the windowless room. Slowly, the events of what she thinks is last night come back to her, like out of order images in a jumbled slideshow. Carla. The checkered dress. Orgasming. Carla's fangs. The sharp pain of Carla's bite.

Reagan mulls over the events in her mind.

Reagan knows the word for what Carla is.

She can't bring herself to admit it, it's too insane. It can't be real. This can't be real.

Reagan tries to tell herself that she imagined it. Carla was a biter who got carried away. But she can't convince herself. In her guts, she can't deny the reality of what happened to her.

On the nightstand next to her, Reagan finds her purse. Rummaging inside, she finds her cell phone. No service, of course she thinks, sighing. Next to the purse is a tray with a glass of orange juice, a thermos of coffee, several aspirin, a fruit salad, and several pieces of buttered toast. It's only then that Reagan realizes how hungry she is. She downs half the orange juice and takes a piece of toast as she gets out of bed to survey her surroundings.

Her first instinct is to go the door. Locked she realizes as she tries turning the knob. She sighs. She's afraid, but her head hurts too much to really think through the implications of her captivity. She goes to the nightstand and takes two of the aspirin, and washing it down with warm coffee. At the foot of the bed, she finds her clothes.

It's only after she turns around to face the bed again that she notices the enlarged photograph hanging behind the bed board. It's undeniably Carla, smiling next to a young woman who looks remarkably like Reagan. Same eyes, same hair. Reagan feels a chill when she sees that the young woman is wearing the checkered yellow dress.
Reagan feels a chill, like someone wrapped fingers made of ice around her spine.

She goes back into her purse, looking for her pepper spray, but it's gone. She does notice an envelope this time. Inside, she finds $11,000 in crisp bills, and a note.

In impeccable calligraphy, it reads:

Dear Reagan,
Please find enclosed the agreed upon amount, as well as a tip. Thank you for your services last night, you were utterly delicious.
You'll find an intercom on the wall next to the door. Press zero to reach my assistant, who can arrange for your transport back into the city. I trust that you'll be discreet about our encounter. (Who would believe a whore like you, anyway?)
However, you're welcome to stay a bit longer if you choose. Perhaps you've wondered whether there is more to this world than meets the eye. Perhaps you're curious for answers about last night. Perhaps you just want to feel my dark kiss once more.
The choice is yours, Reagan.
Sincerely, Carla

Reagan stuffs the note and envelope back into her purse. Reagan, what are you even thinking about here, GET OUT NOW a voice screams inside her head. And yet Reagan pauses. She sits on the bed, slowly sipping the delicious coffee as she thinks. Instinctively, she reaches up to her neck, feeling where Carla bit her. She feels a tingle between her legs as she thinks about being bitten, being pinned down helplessly and fed on.

Reagan knows what she should do. But as irrational as it is, she knows what she wants.