Satin and lace expose more than they cover. 

With bodies posed in obscene invitation, the mannequins start to tease. A leg’s exposed. A nipple slips before fabric decorates the floor. 

Outside, the rip of Ben’s zipper cuts through the hush. The ladies look down and smile. Pressing their bodies against the glass, they create the illusion of physical touch… and intimacy.

Ben thrusts his hips and paints the window white, wanting them to see his affections for them… but the lights blink off. 

He’s alone. 

In darkness. 

Only the ghost of warmth on his hand remains.