Iris sat on what was apparently her bed, in what was now apparently her bedroom. The dark-haired, dark-eyed bartender had handed her a bunch of towels as the tall, gorgeous, blonde woman named Zoe had led her through the bar and up some stairs under a large sign marked ‘Private’.
She’d followed Zoe and her sky-high legs to the very end of the hallway, then followed her into a small space, barely big enough for a bed and a dresser and an armchair. Despite it being cramped by normal standards, Iris was sitting staring around her, still astounded at the space, at the sheer luxury of having space of her own. She’d forgotten what it was like to be alone. For the past year, eyes had been on her all at almost all times; her skin had constantly prickled with the awareness that someone, somewhere,
