Through the crack in the door, I could see them at the vanity counter—clothes disheveled, bodies tangled together. Alice's nails raked down the hard muscles of Dustin's back as they moved in a frenzied rhythm.
Then she saw me.
The moment our eyes met, her moans grew louder, more theatrical.
"Slow down—didn't that little mistress ever satisfy you, baby?"
Dustin's mouth swallowed her cries before she could say more.
I collapsed onto the toilet seat like a hollowed-out shell, every last drop of life wrung from my body.
An eternity passed before they finally finished. Alice told Dustin to leave first.
Then a knock came on the stall door.
"Come on out." Her voice was thick with lazy satisfaction. "He's gone."
I pushed the door open and stepped out.
She stood there, deliberately, unhurriedly pulling her dress down from her chest—putting on a show, displaying the fresh marks scattered across her skin.
"I'm going to keep you as the dirty little secret forever." Her voice was feather-soft, as casual as commenting on the weather. "So if you know what's good for you, walk away from him on your own."