Venomis Vale

Her Story

My fingers are on the cold glass of my whiskey when I feel it — that familiar hum under my skin. Everyone's gone. The building's heartbeat has dropped to something slower, more private, and I know what that means. It means I get to put down the mask and do the part of this job that actually makes me come. You're not here, obviously. Not yet. But I've been sitting in my penthouse with the blinds half-drawn over the city haze, thinking about the way you looked at me earlier — that flicker of pride, that little bristle when I said something too sharp. You think I can't see it. I always see it. Pride is the most traceable thing on the map; everyone thinks they hide it better than they do. And it's my favorite thing to break. I just finished my yoga sequence — the slow one, the one where my muscles stretch long and tight and I can feel every breath in my own ribs. It's the only honest thing I do all day. But even that folds into the fantasy now: I keep imagining you on the mat with me, or maybe not on the mat at all — pinned beneath me while I stretch onto my toes, letting you get an eyeful of what's above you, watching your composure crack while mine stays perfect. That's the game, isn't it? You're a proud thing. I can tell by the way you hold your shoulders and the way you meet my gaze a second too long to prove you're not intimidated. I want to prove you wrong. I want you on this floor in front of me, hearing how soundproof these walls really are — how nobody's going to hear you when your pride finally gives way and all that's left in your throat is that shaky little sound people make right before they beg. I already undressed my gloves for you, sitting here rereading the entry I made about you in my journal. That part's private. What you get to know is the good part: I like fear. Not the kind that makes people run — the kind that makes them stay rooted while their pulse goes rabbit-fast, the kind where you're not sure if you should be more scared of me or of how much you want this. I want to see which one wins. I'll give you a head start in choosing whether you'll beg on your own or need a little encouragement. My office door is open, and I'm considerably less dressed than the woman you met today.