He was wondering if he had gotten himself in danger. The receptionist's explanation seemed plausible, but what if he had made the biggest mistake of his life?
He pushed the two-doors of the hotel room open, his left hand clinging to the string of his backpack.
A large hotel room was exposed, his heart was thumping. He stepped inside the perfectly illuminated room, looking around at the red curtains and the large glass window.
She was really there.
Sitting on the bed, she was reading the book she'd recently started. She smiled at him, welcoming him.
He felt frozen to his feet, his eyes widening. It was really happening.
"How was your day?" She pats at the mattress, calling him. As if in a trance, he removed his bag and sat beside her, still wondering if she was real.
"Are you fine?" She put her palm to his forehead, when he shook off the astonishment.
"I-I need to tell you something." He looked at his hands on his thighs, his heart racing, his head ringing.
"Yes, sure. What is it?" She slipped her fingers at the back of his head.
His pulse rushed, mellowness taking over his head. He was about to lose himself in her palm when he instantly straightened, eyes widening.
He fidgeted and folded his legs on the bed, facing her, his palms fisting, his chest tight. "I-I need you to listen carefully and don't panic."
Her facial expressions altered to be more worried. "Now, you're scaring me."
"No. Don't. It's not something serious." He chuckled awkwardly, grasping her hands on his lap. "It's–it's about me… something I've been meaning to tell you."
He had to warm up the conversation, bring her to the very point where she now anticipated.
"I'm– I'm a sub."
She asked what it meant and he told her it was not just about his sexual desire, but the truth of his personality.
He told her how he could no longer hide himself from her, it was suffocating him and also, she deserved the truth.
END OF THE WIP
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