Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Cora

I’m gasping as we burst through the door of the motel, Roger quickly turning to force it closed behind us as the wind batters us, making his job hard. I pant, looking around, my eyes settling on the startled eyes of the gnarled little man sitting behind the front desk. I work hard to give him a polite smile as Roger grunts, finally forcing the door shut behind.

“Nasty weather out there, ain’t it,” the desk attendant says, giving us a toothless grin.

“Bit of an understatement,” Roger murmurs, straightening and looking anxiously over his shoulder as he moves forward to the desk. I follow him, my hand pressed to the papers under my shirt. Some of them the outer ones, I think – are probably ones feel dry against my stomach…

– are probably ruined, but the inner

“Well, you’ll be good and dry here,” the attendant says, giving us a happy little nod. “You lookin’ for a room?”

“Sure,” Roger says, shrugging and glancing at me. I nod and shrug back. We could wait it out in this lobby, I guess, but as I look around and take in the patchworked chairs and the musty smell…honestly, being able to sit down somewhere a little cleaner sounds good to

“We got room six,” the attendant says contemplatively, turning to point at a set of keys on the wall. “That’s our best room, but you gotta go out into the storm to get to it.” He points to a set of keys labeled “12” next. “Twelve ain’t as nice, but it’s just in the back of this building,” he says. “So you can stay inside, if you don’t want to get wet…” he turns back to us then and grimaces a little. “Or, well…wetter.”

“Twelve,” Roger and I say in unison, our faces serious. The attendant smiles at us and hands over the key. Roger nods and takes his wallet out of his back pocket, sliding some cash out and pushing it across the counter to the man.

Seeing the line of green bills left in Roger’s wallet, the attendant’s eyes light up. “Will you be needing any room service on top of that, then?” he asks.

“No,” Roger replies firmly and I’m grateful for it, thinking about what kind of delicacies a place like this might serve up. My stomach turns over a little at the thought of it. The man nods and tosses the key to Roger, who catches it in the air. Then, he takes my hand and

a polite smile and he returns it with a naughty little wink which makes me realize –

down the hall towards the rooms at the back of the main building. That guy thinks we’re a

Sinclair. And that we were going to go into a room, alone. With beds. To wait out this storm. Suddenly my heart. begins to pound as I follow Roger down the hall. Roger, perhaps hearing the change in my heartbeat, or smelling some physical change in my body’s scent, looks over his shoulder at me with a little

we arrive at twelve, he deftly puts the key in the lock and twists it, pushing

my mind as I go rigid at the sight of the water-marked ceiling, the rug with the mysterious stains, the television that looks like it might actually be

ominous threat that it might just give

to the ground. There are windows at the far side of the room

outside and a set of woods beyond

shows that the storm outside still

like it,” Roger murmurs, looking around, his eyebrows up.

gasp,

says, looking at me with a little grin. “It’s very true crime, very ‘will they or won’t they get murdered.’ I like a

behind me as he closes the door. I quickly approach

the top.

it off the bed and tossing it to the floor, revealing what actually looks

Cora,” Roger says as he crosses the room and sits on a wooden chair by the window, pulling off his soaked shoes. “I always took you for a

shoes then, wanting very much to be dry and warm Roger just chuckles and says nothing, though I feel his weight on the other side of the mattress as I pull my second shoe off and work at my soaked sock. I turn then, honestly

seen. since that night when he cried in my arms. My mind flashes suddenly to that moment, the intimacy of it – but that’s all wiped away when I realize

my god!” I say, jumping up and turning towards him. “Where are

he says simply, a little frustrated, gesturing

his shirt on top of them. “They’re soaked.

me, then I think pleased to see how much he’s unsettled me with his nearly-naked body. Then, to my shock, he leans back. against the headboard, lifting one leg lazily onto the bed, bending it at the knee and looking completely

I hate him, in that moment and myself, a little bit as the first thought that pops into my mind is that he looks like a damn underwear model, laying there like that, his gorgeous tan set off nicely by