We had a few more rounds and then went to Room 8. The room had no sink to wash the dirt from my nails. Not even a toilet. Just a bottle of disinfectant lotion on the nightstand along with a roll of paper towels. The wastebasket overflowed.
She asked me what I wanted.
"My dog back."
"What?"
"I need to be held, and then I want to smack your ass."
She told me the price and I paid it. Keeping the big bills out of view.
That's an excerpt from the latest story on Fishnet, the online erotic fiction magazine I'm editing: For Loki, by Devin Hansen. To read more, read the rest of the story. (Not for anyone under 18.) Enjoy!
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