At three fifty-five, Eric Nibless turned into the parking lot in his rental car. Shifting the transmission to park, he took a moment to check out the ratty conditions his s*x drive had led him to. And shrugged. Not ideal, but I damn sure didn’t come up here for the atmosphere. He checked his appearance in the mirror. Gorgeous, as always, he reassured himself. Evan is in for a treat.
He went in to see the attendant, as instructed, and asked for the key to number three. The man behind the counter looked at a scrap of paper the owner had scrawled directives on, nodded, and handed over the key, then went back to watching his mini television set.
Eric walked slowly to number three, anticipation building. He turned the key and stepped into a dark room. “Hello?” he called out.
A voice from the
