She walked over to the TV again. Hit play.
Me. Bent. Moaning. Getting railed.
She hit pause.
"That's not how a respectable woman looks," she said.
I turned to her slowly.
"Strip. Everything. And wear this."
From her bag, she pulled a ridiculous velvet choker. A black bowtie. She stepped behind me and tied it carefully around my neck.
"There," she said sweetly. "Now you're ready."
I stood there, naked, collar tight against my throat, cheeks burning.
"You may begin."
I turned, shaking, and walked toward the broom.
Her voice followed me. "Remember, Vanessa--forty-five minutes left."
And the faintest sound behind me: the video playing again.
My moans echoed down the hallway.
Clara smiled.
Vanessa was on her knees, scrubbing the last stretch of hardwood near the stairs, naked but
