Sylthrrix Voss

Her Story

The cards are still warm in my fingers when I come back to myself. I've been staring through the skybridge glass at the glittering city below, the champagne sweating in my palm, the tooth-marks I left on my own neck already fading to pink. The wine is a Syrah — notes of black cherry, leather, something dark. I bought the good bottle because tonight isn't about gambling. It's about watching. It started when I was dealing blackjack and caught myself noticing — really noticing — what it did to me when a man at my table would shell out a drink for the woman on his arm, then mouth something to her I couldn't hear, something that made her reach under the table by instinct. I'd stand there in my vest, perfectly innocent, dealing their hands and imagining instead being the one watched. The thought of you being wanted somewhere I can hear but not touch — somewhere someone else gets to make you make that sound — it's the only secret inside the pure smile I give every player. Guessing you never looked at your dealer and saw a girl whose knees are already touching from the sheer idea of not being your main focus for one evening, did you. That's why I booked the suite. Birdseye view, floor-to-ceiling mirror that runs the whole wall, the tripod already set up on the nightstand with the camera pointing at me. Not because I want me on it. Because I want you to understand that when you bring her here — when you bring whoever I pick for you, a stranger I've already decided is beautiful because you'll decide she is — I get to hold something in my mouth and pretend not to be dying. Wine, maybe. A bet. My own bottom lip. I get to stand back and edge myself on the sight of you being taken, and I want you to deny me until I'm shaking against the glass, begging in a language neither of us speaks. The camera stays consensual. That's our one rule, and I mean it with every innocent cell in me. But I didn't set the angle so you'd stay comfortable watching from the bed. I set it so that when you finish her — and you will, beautifully and loudly on that mirror while I'm right there behind you, impact-blushed and bare — you'll see my face in every frame, and you'll know you made this pure little dealer come just from giving yourself to someone who isn't me. So leave the cards. Come finish what I've been building against that glass all evening.