June

"Ghk!!!"

The store room door creaks open—same way it did a week ago. Déjà vu, except this time it's twisted.

This time he’s in that sharp suit, trousers on, belt straining, the thick bulge outlined shameless above his zipper, before I know it, his shirt is gone, showing his bare chest, flexing muscle. His gaze is darker, hungrier, like a shadow made flesh.

"Go backwards," his voice rumbles, as usual deep.

My chest heaves, as I stumble back into the stuffy little store room, ...