Round 2, Match D: Sessha Batto vs. Etta Stark

Now we come to the final match of Round 2, with two more marvelous stories featuring the required word, "hotel"! Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

There is nowhere lonelier than the bland characterless room of a budget hotel at 11pm. I loved my job but sometimes the constant travelling got me down. Having to be in Truro one day, Cambridge the next. It had its perks of course but sometimes I just felt very alone.

I switched off the television and was surprised by a knock on the door. Who the hell was that? It’s not as though you get room service at the Premier Inn.

“Hey princess, you gonna let me in?” called a familiar voice and my face immediately broke into a grin.

“Nick!” I said opening the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Missed you,” he explained shucking off his coat and kissing me hard. “Wanted to see you.”

“Wait, you’ve driven five hours just to see me?”

“Yup.” He pulled me towards him and started unbuttoning my blouse. “That OK?”

“Of course. Don’t you have work in the morning though?”

“Afraid so. I’m going to have leave in... ” He glanced at the clock. “about three hours time.”

“You’re driving through the night just to spend three hours with me?”

“Hell yeah.” Nick had completely removed my blouse and unsnapped my bra. He ran his hand over my breasts. “We’d better make sure those three hours are totally worth it.”

I moaned as he gave my nipple a sharp tweak.

“Now let’s get the rest of those clothes off you so I can give you the spanking that you almost certainly deserve,” he said. With Nick’s help, I was very quickly naked. “Up on to the bed, on all fours,” he commanded.

The thorough spanking he gave me left me sore and breathless and unbelievably turned on. Still on all fours on the bed, I turned my head to see Nick quickly undressing. His cock was rigid and clearly ready for the damn good fucking he was about to give me.

The sex was as fantastic as I knew it would be. Over the next few hours he took me repeatedly and enthusiastically. In between the sex and blow jobs and spankings, we cuddled up together and chatted. It was good to see him.

All too soon our time was up. He gave my arse a final resounding slap. “Well, princess, that was delightful. But I’m gonna need to head back to Truro now. Got a five hour drive ahead of me.”

I lay happily on the bed, watching Nick dress, not envying him his long drive home on no sleep.

It was hard to believe we’d only met for the first time yesterday. Truro hotels can be as lonely as Cambridge ones but it’s a hell of a lot more fun when you meet a very sexy businessman in the hotel bar and end up having mind-blowing spanky sex in your room. I hadn’t been expecting a follow-up quite so soon.

“You know what?” I said as Nick kissed me goodbye. “That was a very satisfactory second date.”

Story 2

“Why are we going to a hotel?”

“I wanted to thank you for helping me with my little problem.”

“And you couldn't do that at home?” Xander merely kissed his forehead and strolled over to the concierge. Michael certainly enjoyed the view, his boyfriend looked absolutely edible in a loose white shirt and a pair of fitted black pants.

“Don't look so serious, your face will freeze that way.” Xander twirled the key around his finger as he tugged his boyfriend to the elevator. “We're on the top floor. I thought, since you were so helpful in overcoming my fear of heights, you might want to fuck me up against the window wall. I hear the view is spectacular.”

Michael picked up the pace, yanking his partner into the elevator and into a messy kiss.

“Now, now. No need to rush. Just stay there,” Xander pushed him against the door of the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. He fiddled with his iPod, propping it on the railing before spinning to face his lover.

Michael jumped when low sultry music started playing, and his heart sped up to match the beat when Xander’s hand moved to the top button of his shirt and he realized what was going to happen. He continued to stare, mesmerized, as a hand slowly traveled down and flicked open one button after another, allowing tantalizing glimpses of alabaster skin.

“What if someone wants on?”

“Then I trust you to protect my honor,” Xander shot back with a sultry smirk.

Michael wondered if his pants might catch fire when the shirt finally slid free of broad shoulders, leaving him with a view of a pale, perfectly muscled back criss-crossed with black leather straps.

So distracted was he, that he didn’t notice the hand slowly unfastening black pants until they slid down toned legs and his blood pressure spiked. Michael’s mind desperately tried to process the image he swore was in front of him, the normally staid Xander, bent slightly at the waist, dressed in nothing but black silk stockings, a black leather garter belt, leather collar and wrist cuffs and those maddening straps.

“Like what you see?” The only reply was a guttural croak, eyes going wide when his boyfriend spun in place and advanced to writhe erotically inches from his face.

“You said you wanted to see me in a garter belt and stockings,” Xander continued to tease as he rotated his ass. “But you don’t seem to like your present.”

Michael’s finely honed control snapped and he snagged his partner and pulled him into his arms, grinding against him as he devoured his lover's mouth. “You do know you drive me absolutely crazy, don’t you?” he mumbled when they broke for air.

The elevator slid to a stop and Xander darted out the door. “Then I guess you should try to catch me.”

Round 2, Match C: Justine Hollander vs. Adaline Raine

Here we are, in the third match of Round 2, with two more incredibly hot--and incredibly varied--stories featuring the required word, "hotel"! Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

Red light filtered into the car. On…off…on…off.

Her hips moved to the same rhythm as his mouth devoured her. Through hooded eyes, Mara looked down. He was on his knees on the passenger side floor, between her soft, pale thighs. The seat back was angled so that she could see everything. She watched as his tongue licked over her clit in long, broad strokes that made her pussy leak and head spin.

Flashes of red alternated with white from the street lamp above, casting him as both devil and angel. His lips followed suit - gentle licks and kisses alternated with aggressive bites and sucks that would mark her for days.

Who was this guy?

It was Dave - mild, reserved, introverted Dave.

***

His cubicle was only two down from hers - it might as well have been on another planet. They’d worked together for three months before he’d even spoken to her, but when he had, his smooth, deep voice invoked an unexpected sexual current to ripple through her. This had shocked Mara as he was so plain - no mohawk, no piercings…no edge.

She couldn’t leave it alone.

Making it her mission to provoke him, Mara began to visit Dave with offers of coffee, or for his opinion on a graphic she was working on. His response always friendly, yet restrained. She began to touch him more - a light hand on his shoulder - pressing unnecessarily close as they reviewed documents together.

Still nothing.

Spring arrived and off came her tights. Mara began hitching the waist of her skirts before her visits until they were less than office appropriate. Just today they’d been standing next to his desk when she’d leaned over, deliberately stretching further than necessary to reach for a pen. The hem of her skirt tickled the backs of her thighs as it crept up and just over the swell of her bare ass.

She froze as his finger traced the path her skirt just traveled, shivers running up her spine.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Dirty girls need a hotel room. Tonight, Mara…meet me by the elevators.”

He turned and left the cubicle, leaving Mara stunned and turned on.

They drove in silence - his possessive hand firm over her exposed thigh.

When they’d arrived, she’d looked at the sign in disappointment. Unfazed, Dave turned to kiss her. Mara quickly appreciated the fun that could be had in a car.

***

Dave’s fingers pumped her pussy as his lips and teeth clamped down one last time on her swollen clit, launching Mara into an epic orgasm that shuddered through her, wave after wave until she lay panting on the seat.

Wiping condensation from the window, Mara viewed the red, flashing ‘No Vacancy’ sign - a reminder of their poor planning.

She said wistfully, “I only wish we’d gotten a room.”

Dave looked at her with fire in his eyes as he pulled his keys from the ignition.

“Who said we don’t have a room?”

Story 2

Cora closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of coconut as the young woman behind her lathered the shampoo into her hair. It smelled so rich that she could almost taste the Pina colada it reminded her of. She had a random thought about sitting on a beach with the salon girl clinking drinks and laughing when the other woman dug her fingers into her long brown tresses and kneaded them against her scalp. This is heaven, Cora decided as she relaxed into the chair. The woman had amazing hands.

“What else do you do with your hands?” The fingers paused in their task and suddenly warm water flooded over the top of her scalp. Had the woman rinsed because of her awkward question? She meant to ask what type of hobbies she was into and instead it sounded vaguely sexual. “I mean they're great.”

A soft chuckle sounded over her head following by a cute snort. “Ah, do you mean like in my other job?”

Cora grunted as she tried to think of a proper response. How stupid she sounded! Did this woman get propositioned by weirdos in her beauty chair all the time? “I never take time for myself. You just made me feel so relaxed.”

“I'm Zoey.” Her voice reminded her of tinkling bells, high pitched but melodic. “I do photography but I don't have a studio yet. I just kinda set up in a hotel room and drape pretty clothes over half naked women.”

“What?” Cora opened her eyes, completely forgetting that the other woman had a spray hose aimed there and soap ran into them. “Oh!”

“I'm so sorry!” Zoey appeared alarmed in her blurred vision. “Let me help.”

Cora's eyes stung badly from the shampoo but in seconds cool drops of water were flushing it out. She blinked several times and finally the burning stopped. Zoey's face was now inches from hers and she could see concern etched in her features.

“My specialty is boudoir sessions. I take several poses and then I paint one of them on canvas.” Zoey patted her eyes with a soft dry cloth. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“I didn't expect that sort of answer. I worded my question oddly and...” Cora could no longer think with this adorable punky woman with dip-dyed purple and pink hair staring at her. How did she not notice her when she walked in?

“I'd love to paint you. Let me do a session? Free, of course, since I almost blinded you.” Zoey moved back behind the chair without her answer. “Move your head back so I can condition you.”

“Condition me to say yes?” Cora smirked as she leaned back. “I would have said it anyway.” Zoey's fingers returned to her head and a warm vanilla scent filled the air as the cream saturated her hair.

“Cool. Then you can really see what I do with my hands.”

Round 2, Match B: Tara Crescent vs. Kiki Howell

Here are the amazing (and amazingly different from one another) stories of the second match of Round 2. Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

She was a curvy Irish redhead with curls that cascaded down her fair neck. Maeve O’Conner, president of our little kink society. Her body promised all kinds of carnal pleasure to the lucky man that ended up in her bed. Her eyes twinkled as she surveyed us, amused, aware and so very wicked.

If you win, her invitation had said, fantasies will be brought to life.

Me, I wanted to tie Maeve up and have her beg to be cropped. She’d plead so sweetly with that husky voice of hers. I’d mark her lush breasts in a rosy pink hue. My cock grew hard at the thought of thrusting between those soft round globes.

But Mistress Maeve wielded the crop and submitted to no man.

“What do you think she has planned?” a voice interrupted my lust-filled musings.

I turned towards my friend Patrick. “Not a clue,” I replied, trying to wish my erection away. “But I want to win.”

He grinned. “Me too, Colin.”

On the hotel floor, I played blackjack, roulette and more. The stacks of chips in front of me grew larger. I received whispered invitations from beautiful women but ignored them all. Tonight, I wanted something else.

When the hour was long past midnight, I’d done enough. There was a card in my hand, engraved with a room number. 300. I made my way up, only to see another man walk towards the same door. Patrick.

Both of us held up our cards. Both said 300.

“Is your fantasy a threesome, Colin?”

I shook my head. We’d shared women often, Patrick and I. This wasn’t fantasy territory for either of us. Curious, I opened the door.

A woman was bent over a spanking bench in the centre, the golden skirts of her gown pushed up to expose her naked ass. Her legs were pressed together, her succulent labia glistened in invitation and a jewelled buttplug protruded from her asshole.

Mistress Maeve. Restrained and ready for plunder. Submitting not to one man but to two.

“Maeve,” I scolded, grabbing a riding crop from the collection helpfully laid out on a side table. “I thought this was about our fantasies, not yours.”

She turned her head and grinned at us. “I thought we could meet in the middle, gentlemen.” She readily parted her crimson lips for Patrick’s dick and my cock strained against my trousers.

I brought the crop down and watched a red stain bloom on her pale posterior. “Ah, Maeve,” I said, taking a leisurely lick of her pouty pussy lips and hearing her throaty groan, “we are going to have some fun tonight.”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded through a mouthful of cock.

Patrick chuckled. It seemed pretty Maeve needed practice at being submissive. He reached down and pulled those creamy breasts from under the low-cut bodice, squeezing them till she moaned. On my end, I pumped the buttplug in and out of her asshole.

“Rule one,” I said firmly, “is that you aren’t in charge.”

Story 2

She floated through the aged, brick wall worn by time and elements. The sensation of atoms changing, rearranging, gave her a brief second of mirth which faded fast when her body materialized into the old hotel room numbered 234. Though but a spirit, the ghostly void where her heart used to beat ached, made the image of white gas she formed shiver in the sliver of light from a streetlamp that streamed through the broken window.

Every fourteenth of January she came here faithfully. Although, she visited several other times throughout the year too when the crush of emotions hit her. The edgy and harsh affections made her remember what it was like to be human, to have her lungs battle for breath. She hovered above the mattress now half fallen off the bed. The torn and tattered mess appeared to her a soft mass covered in crisp white. The sheets she remembered rested rumpled from a night of lovers wrestling through them, having tried to merely survive the overwhelming plight of flesh against flesh. Her vacant breast throbbed with the reminiscence of fingers sliding over her skin. Long gone nerves tingled, trembled under the remembrance of hands tough and calloused. His. Dead over a few decades too, she couldn’t understand why her lover didn’t come here as she did. At one time, in a world that had tried to beat her down, he’d given her life. Just a touch, a look, had made every wrong right.

The weight of his hands on her at one time had grabbed and soothed as hefty need gave way to love and adoration. This feeling lingered though no bodies existed save for those turning to dust in a couple of graves. She, a spirit reflected, forever remained, strongest here in this room where they’d first escaped the world to join together as husband and wife in a marriage forbidden. Now, only their love survived even the wages of time.

Inside her ghostly being the memory of muscles coiled, contracted, as her spirit wrestled again with the recollection of being entered by a man, stretched and made to tremble until robbed of the power to control her own body. Rational thoughts merged with flashbacks, and the blip of white smoke she remained tore through the dusty air.

Pulsing, swelling, hard against soft, she relived it all. The memory of a bite soothed by the brush of soft lips broke a heart that survived only in thoughts. This eternal blessed torture was all she had left. A crystal clear image of tight skin over the peaks and valleys of a man built of hard work existed eternally somewhere in a mist, an existence she couldn’t define or escape. Here in this hotel room the ghostly vestige of love — hot, sweaty and passionate. A need to be filled so huge it hurt a body that no longer existed yet seemed to fight to breathe forever remained.

Round 2, Match A: Will LaForge vs. Meredith O'Reilly

Here we are, in the first match of Round 2, and we've got two incredibly hot stories to go with our required word, "hotel"! Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1

Dick checked his watch again. “Ms. Gordon, what are you doing in there? I want to check out of here and hit the road by Noon.”

Barbara danced out of the bathroom wearing a sheer, white sundress flowing to mid-thigh. “Ooh, he called me ‘Ms. Gordon’ in his dominant voice. You know I get moist when you act all macho. Well, Mr. Grayson, since we’re being so formal, what do you think?” She did a little pirouette that made the dress rise high to show off her defined legs, shapely ass and cleanly shaven pussy.

“You’re not wearing panties, or a bra.”

“No Dick, I’m not. What’s your point? This way you’ll have easy access to the goodies in the car. Mmm, and judging by the lump in your pants, you haven’t had enough of me yet.”

“No, I can never get enough of your sweet goodies. Come here.”

He pulled her into his arms and licked her lips. When she ground her hips into his groin, he pulled up her dress to squeeze her delicious ass.

From his secret hiding place in the wall, Norman squirmed with growing envy. He’d watched the amorous couple all through the night and returned this morning just in time to see the man mount the wanton slut again. The floor under his feet was sticky with his own spent emissions, but he’d have to wait until they checked out to clean up the mess. Norman barely stifled a groan as he freed his aching cock from the confines of his jeans.

Dick leaned back and turned his head toward the wall. “Did you hear something?”

“No, baby, I didn’t hear a thing. To be honest, all I want to hear are your moans, because I’m going to take the edge off you before we leave.” She pushed him onto the end of the bed.

“Barbara, we don’t have time to fool around. We promised Bruce we’d be back for weapons training tonight.”

She undid his pants, yanked them off and then dropped to her knees between his legs. “This won’t take long. You haven’t cum in my mouth all weekend and I’m hungry.” Dick’s big cock popped free and she engulfed the head in her mouth.

“Oh my god Barbara, you’re right, this won’t take long.”

She mumbled around his cock. “Do it. Come for me. Shoot all your juice down my greedy throat.”

“Fuck, I’m coming!” Dick shouted.

Behind the wall, Norman trembled with lust. Once again, he found himself torn between wanting to be him…or be her. He wiped the drool off his mouth as he imagined swallowing a man’s seed. Norman stroked his cock, once, twice, and then he spewed a torrent of his liquid essence all over the wall and floor.

****

Mrs. Bates smiled at the young couple. “We hope you enjoyed your weekend here at the Bates Bed & Breakfast. Hopefully, you’ll come back next spring when we open up either our new motel or hotel.”

Story 2

"Robert! Someone's going to hear us! We're in a hotel!" I cried out, hoping that it would get me out of the spanking that I had earned myself.

"Then you should have thought about that before you continued to sass back to me." Robert said, positioning me over his lap.

"But-"

Smack! "The only butt in this conversation is yours. You earned yourself a spanking, take it like the good little girl I know you are."

"Yes Daddy." I said, hanging my head in shame.

Robert started my spanking as he usually did, with spankings around my entire bottom. It made my skin start to tingle without causing any pain...yet.

After a few moments of warming me up, my punishment spanking began.

"Good girls-listen to-their Daddies!" Robert calmly declared, sending three hard smacks down across my bottom.

"Ouch!" I howled as pain sizzled across my backside. After each smack, a fiery burn was left in it's wake.

"You need to-trust me-to take care-of you." He continued, despite my sobbing and constant wiggling.

I hated punishment spankings! It left my bottom feeling raw and sore.

"I'm only-trying to-protect you." He said, finishing my spanking with a final slap to my bottom.

"I'm...sorry." I blubbered out as Robert picked me up and repositioned me so I was lying face down on the bed with my legs dangling off.

"I know you are honey. Now I'm going to fuck your bottom hole. Since you took your spanking so well, you can come when I say so."

A shiver of delight ran through me at the pure primal and dominant act that Robert was about to do. I felt my pussy get wet as he put a lubricated finger inside of me.

"Hmmm...it seems that someone is sure turned on by this." Robert teased, his other hand, gently gliding over my saturated pussy.

"No." I croaked out, suddenly feeling embarrassed as he added a second and third finger stretching me.

"Don't lie to me. Only bad girls lie and bad girls don't get to come." He said, pinching my swollen clit and at the same time, he removed his fingers and shoved his shaft halfway in to my bottom.

"Oh!" I cried, as my body tensed at the stimulation and at the feeling of being taken like this.

"Relax sweetie. Take a deep breath."

I did as I was told and felt Robert slide himself in to me the rest of the way.

"Good girl. You are mine, to punish and to pleasure for the rest of our lives."

"Yes Sir." I said, feeling a sense of rightness at his words.

"I love you Juliana." He said, as he began to thrust in and out of me as he played with my pussy.

"I...love you...too." I gasped as I felt myself about to come.

"Come my love." He whispered in my ear, before biting it, and sending me over the edge.

Round 1, Match H: Sessha Batto vs. Nya Rawlyns

Here we are, in the final match of Round 1! Comments are moderated, and will be posted anonymously by me on the main blog, once the voting period is over. Judges, please remember to post according to the guidelines laid out in this post on the main blog.

Please come join in the fun at the Hot-Off Facebook event, to share your general and generous praise of the stories!

Story 1: The Thin Red Line

The soul-sucking whimpering rasped my throat dry, shredding it so bits of yes, no, maybe, oh fucking hell no I can’t…

I can’t…

I ca—

…fell on deaf ears, my ears.

Ears tuned to every breath, every damn barefoot step, pacing fup fup fup, the linoleum begging no don’t go, don’t leave me please…
The door snicked shut.

You can feel the locks, did you know that? They register different, odd, like thieves in the night cloaking your fantasies and your security in denial. No, you can’t, not now… not ever.

The door. My egress. My last refuge gone, vacuuming air from my lungs.

It hurt.

It fizzed and sizzled and sliced. I thrummed with it, my cock bulged, begged, ballooned with it.

Please…

Do it.

Do it now.

Sssh.

Slow strokes. Confident. Leather thick and rigid registered subtle taps and adjustments and a hiss of satisfaction.

Sometimes he gave himself away, allowing ingress to his agreement, to his needs, to the contract, the covenant, the holy grail of punishment and pleasures too rare and glorious to be contained in the crisscross of straps and iron cages and the bulging bit, the rigid rod ramming roughshod in air heated to molten with my silent screams for pity…

Do it.

It, it, it… clogged my throat. Wrong, so wrong to feel it there. There was fear, not desire, not release. There was me and the final portal to my weakness.

Growl it.

Groan it.

Stop it.

No, no, no…

The nail, ragged and blunt, carved a trail, a misdirection, a prod to the neck, the prominence pressured…

Pressured.

God, god, gods help me, help me breathe…

He left his presence lodged tight, so tight it startled in its harmlessness, in its meaningless envy of pain refocused. I lost all sense of time and place. Lost feeling. Lost sensation so severe, so beautiful and pure and holy and perfect, nothing else mattered but please morphed to more, more please, more.

The glance was downward, down down down, imagination and senseless sensation rocketing imagination to new heights, new lows, until all that remained was that single protuberance, that one interconnectivity of current, and though blind I saw what he promised.

It was too much, the offering was too much, more than I deserved, all that I needed, and I whistled past the gag and the lump and the hideous evidence of desire, my body’s betrayal a joy and a disgrace, and I longed for it to be over so I could hide my inner self under the coating of cum and sweat and blood and his insatiable appetite for capitulation.

War, war is like that, isn’t it? Parry, retreat. Attack, withdraw.

The first trickle of current hit. A tease, only a fucking tease, sensation feeding ass to cock to ass, looped through wires and rods and devices all at his command.

I nearly wept with joy.

Are you ready?

No, I don’t know, god, I don’t…

You will be.

Story 2

Bad enough his destination was on the 26th floor, forcing him to take the elevator. That it was one of the glass walled models only increased the churning pool of dread in his stomach. Don't look, don't look, it's perfectly safe. The refrain drummed through his brain, dissolving into meaningless babble. Eyes squeezed shut, he studiously ignored the bodies pushing past him as they came and went on the slow crawl upwards. Nearly there. An arm brushed his and the death box ground to a halt.

“You don't like elevators.” The soft voice in his ear startled him out of his rising panic. “I think I can help you with that.” A firm hand grasped the back of his neck, pinning him in place against the cool metal of the door.

He was torn between submission and outrage when his pants were unfastened and tugged down, leaving his ass bared to the world below. “Are you worried they can see you?” He drank in the comforting scent of smoke and pine, echoes of bonfires and wide open spaces. “But you like it. You're already hard for me.”

The only sounds were the rasp of a zipper and his gasps for air. He was unwilling to examine whether his breathlessness was due to fear or excitement. The stretch and burn of penetration only made him harder, his cock painting sticky trails of precum across the shiny metal. “Hands behind your head, no touching.” The pressure on his neck eased as he followed instructions. And then the cock inside him began to move. Hard and insistent, it drove all thought from his mind. “Sorry to rush, but if we stay still for too long someone will come and investigate. I'm sure you don't want that.” That thought, coupled with the unerring brushes of his prostate had him teetering on the edge.

Sharp teeth latched onto the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder and he was undone, cum painting abstract patterns on brushed aluminum. The answering rush of warmth deep inside brought the first smile to his face. The softening cock withdrew, only to be replaced with the unyielding hardness of a plug. “It wouldn't do to have you leaking all afternoon. Besides, I like the idea of my cum inside you.”

“No peeking.” The elevator once more began to move. “Don't forget to clean up your mess” The door slid open and a large body brushed past. “Same time next week in the sky tower north elevator. And don't worry, we'll soon have you past this little problem of yours.”

The door slid shut, leaving only a parting echo. “See you at home. I'll pick up Chinese.”