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“He waved his card key across the dull black matte of the hotel room door handle. The click of the disengaged lock broke the silence of the hallway like a gunshot.
He pushed the door open wide.
Possibilities lay open to him like a strip of empty road.
He could smell her pussy before he even saw her.
He kicked the door shut.
The woman knelt in front of him, bathed in muted light, head bowed, motionless but for the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. She occupied the exact center of the room, as if posed like a doll. A trellis of fishnet stocking climbed the slope of her legs. Red leather bound her neck, the buckle at the hollow of her throat, a chrome metal link chain leading from a loop below the buckle down to the floor, where the handle lay at her feet. Her wrists crossed behind her back, unbound.
Beyond her, the window was open, shutters facing outward, allowing the night air to play the curtains with cool fingers. A grid of city streets spread beyond the window, painted with headlights. The moon was below the window frame, temporarily eclipsed, spilling pale ghosts onto the walls.”