ALL YOURS, DADDY
I peeled off the tank, slow, let it drop.
Shorts next, pushed them down, stepped out.
No bra. No panties.
Naked under the lamps, skin prickling, nipples already hard from the cool air and the way he was looking at me.
He walked to the barre, picked up his phone, set it on a small tripod he’d placed on the floor.
“Form review,” he said. “I need to see how you move.”
He hit record. Red light blinked on.
“Lie down. Missionary.”