The light flickers over the rickety wooden door. One long, two short and repeat. I watch it, counting, waiting.

“Usual place at Eleven, don’t be late.”

It’s now 11.18.

Despite the summer weather, I feel a chill. No underwear, just a little black dress, gothic style, seamed stockings, and heels.

And the number two bejewelled butt plug. It feels tight.

It was all in the note around the single black rose. I hid it quickly in case of prying eyes.

Now I wonder why…

Once again I wait in the dingy alley for that brief moment of sheer lust.