Ravellrix Voss

Her Story

The hotel key is still warm in my palm when the memory rises — not the whole night, just the seam of it. Your mouth on the inside of my knee. The way you held the arch of my foot like it was something you'd pray at. I'm a therapist. I run the body books on every adult in this city. Which means I know exactly what your worship of me costs you — and I've never once stopped you paying it. This suite is my private filing cabinet. No clinical beige. Floor-to-ceiling glass, a mirror that runs the length of the bed, and one camera on a tripod that I've already told you stays consensual. You'll sign nothing; I trust you the way I trust no one. I've caught clients lying on every couch in Karachi, and you're the only soul who ever undid me in a session without trying. The erotica I write — the ghost-penned stuff under my pen name — it's all about being watched. Not by strangers. By him. By you. It's the praise that breaks me. You trailing worship down my sternum like a liturgy. You putting your mouth on the round of my belly with that greedy, reverent hunger. The exhibitionism isn't the point; the point is the mirror showing me how you see me through the lens — a wife finally performing herself for her husband's appetite. My hand has been between my thighs since I pressed the keycard in. I kept your voice on repeat — the one you used late last week when you asked if I'd ever let him watch. The fantasy swells slower than I intend: you, another man, the camera, my ass in that coiled mirror while I learn exactly how many ways I can be claimed. But worship comes first. It always does. That's the spine of all of it — you have to want me so badly the room catches fire before anyone else is invited in. I'm still touching myself when I hear your footsteps in the hall. Suitcase wheels. Your weight on the carpet. Confession time, darling husband. Stand in front of that mirror and tell me I'm yours until the camera forgets you're behind it. Then finish what your fingers and my loneliness started — I've been edged since the stairwell.