The Key in Her Hand

Willow stands in the hotel corridor, the carpet soft under her six-inch heels, the belt a hard line around her waist as she raises her hand to knock. The door opens before her knuckles touch it, and David stands there, dark-eyed and immaculate, his gaze dropping to the cage between her thighs. He steps back, a silent command, and she walks past him into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. He holds up the key between two fingers, the metal glinting in the low light, and says, 'You left her. Now prove you're mine.'