"Are you okay?"
Andrew's voice broke the silence, low but steady. Carrie froze, her hand still gripping the edge of the washroom door. For a flicker of a second she thought she saw something in his eyes, concern, soft, almost human. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Or maybe it had never been there at all. Maybe she had conjured it, the way she had conjured every dangerous thought tonight.
Her spine stiffened. She decided on the safer truth: she had imagined it.
She straightened her skirt, squared her shoulders, and dragged composure over herself like ill-fitting armor. She forced her body to move as though nothing had happened, as though she had not been writhing in his lap, begging for him. He was nothing to her. Just another man. Just another meaningless encounter. That was
