“Just skin, huh. Not sure you’ll be singing the same tune in a minute.”
Or maybe he will, and it’ll be Hank all flustered. Wouldn’t that be rich?
Still: privacy. He feels the need to be alone as if his tie is getting tighter, tighter round his throat.
“The fuck?” Hank tries to open one of the exit doors, only for it to be... locked. Of course. The weirdos want their little toys to play and party all night long.
One of the resort workers even starts heading their way, to which Hank groans and raises his hand to flip them off. He’s trying to play the game, okay! He’s trying.
“I get it,” he says, after the resort worker tells him with a creepy plastic smile that they ‘absolutely cannot leave, no sirree.’ “You want us to stay and party, or what the fuck ever. But I’ve got these doohickies” — raising his shameful nipple clamps — “and I would like to use them. In peace. Okay? Or is that too much to fucking ask?”
It apparently is too much to ask, because the doors remain locked, or stuck, or whatever. So Hank is left muttering under his breath about all these ‘motherfucking cocksuckers’ as he leads Alivian through unfamiliar halls. Hank has no idea where the hell he’s going, but it’s somewhere, all right.
And finally — finally! — Hank spots a bathroom. Better than nothing. Inside, the lights glow gold. Four stalls stand opposite another four, and all around...
no subject
“Just skin, huh. Not sure you’ll be singing the same tune in a minute.”
Or maybe he will, and it’ll be Hank all flustered. Wouldn’t that be rich?
Still: privacy. He feels the need to be alone as if his tie is getting tighter, tighter round his throat.
“The fuck?” Hank tries to open one of the exit doors, only for it to be... locked. Of course. The weirdos want their little toys to play and party all night long.
One of the resort workers even starts heading their way, to which Hank groans and raises his hand to flip them off. He’s trying to play the game, okay! He’s trying.
“I get it,” he says, after the resort worker tells him with a creepy plastic smile that they ‘absolutely cannot leave, no sirree.’ “You want us to stay and party, or what the fuck ever. But I’ve got these doohickies” — raising his shameful nipple clamps — “and I would like to use them. In peace. Okay? Or is that too much to fucking ask?”
It apparently is too much to ask, because the doors remain locked, or stuck, or whatever. So Hank is left muttering under his breath about all these ‘motherfucking cocksuckers’ as he leads Alivian through unfamiliar halls. Hank has no idea where the hell he’s going, but it’s somewhere, all right.
And finally — finally! — Hank spots a bathroom. Better than nothing. Inside, the lights glow gold. Four stalls stand opposite another four, and all around...
Mirrors.
Because of fucking course.