You can’t actually tell

Your heart skips a step and tries to speed up while your mind is still heavy with sleep, and between the panic, the exhaustion, and the confusion of waking up, your brain devolves past ape all the way down to rodent to land on a course of action; playing possum. Every muscle tensed, you take a slow, deep breath, and stay as still as you can, trying to give the impression that you’re still asleep. Turned away from the door, you try in vain to figure out who just walked in from the silhouette being cast on the wall, but it disappears as the door closes, and a camera light gets flicked on.

It’s hard to hear the approaching footsteps on the hotel room carpet, especially when every heartbeat is pounding in your ears. The gentle A/C was now raising goosebumps across your naked back; you shiver, and you realize just how hard your cock is, as it slides slightly against the bedsheet and you suppress a buck of your hips into a stretch, and pray the jig isn’t up. Whichever girl it is, she stopped moving, the room is dead quiet until...

click

A split-second flash of light covers you as a camera shudder sounds off. Another few seconds of silence, before the girl slowly grabs the bedsheet, and inch by inch, gently drapes it back over you. She pauses again, the only sound you can make out being your own breath, until the girl takes a few steps further into the room, shuffles around a bit more, before quickly walking back out.

The second the door clicks shut you bolt up into a sitting position. Any residual sleepiness has been pushed out of your mind by a mix of panic and, as much as you loathe to admit it, the tent you’re forming under the thin bedsheet is proof enough you’re excited in more ways than one.