The Parade

David leans close, his voice low against Willow's ear: 'Every man here wants to fuck you. Go to the ladies' room, sweetheart—walk slow, let them look.' He releases her, and Willow rises on her six-inch heels, the pink mini dress riding high on her thighs as she feels the weight of stares from every table. She passes the bar, a man in a gray suit openly watching her hips, his drink forgotten on the counter. At the ladies' room door, she glances back and sees David's phone in his hand, the app open, and the plug hums to life inside her as she pushes through the door, alone with her reflection and the knowledge that he's watching her on the security feed.