Inside, the room is dimly lit, warm and private, but I can see them clearly. A woman stands in the center, her arms bound above her head with soft ropes that glint faintly in the low light. She’s wearing something delicate, almost sheer, and her skin glows beneath it. A man moves around her, his steps slow, deliberate. Every touch of his hand draws a reaction from her, small, soft sounds that I can almost imagine hearing through the glass. He trails something down her back, maybe a crop, maybe just his fingers, but whatever it is, it makes her shiver.
I stand there watching them, frozen in place, not out of fear but out of something else. Something I can’t name. There’s no panic in her. No fear. Only trust. She leans into it. She lets him have her.
I step back, heart beating too fast. I
