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 –

god, I think, as Roger leads me firmly down the hall towards the rooms at the back of the main building. That guy thinks we’re a couple… that

motel with Roger 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

twelve, he deftly puts the key in the lock and

ceiling, the rug with the mysterious

an ominous threat that it might just give up at any moment and

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

lot outside and a set of woods beyond that. The window

that the storm

like it,” Roger

I gasp,

a little grin. “It’s very true crime, very ‘will they or won’t they

at once, dropping his hand and sweeping into the room. Roger laughs behind me as he closes the door. I quickly approach the

on the

and tossing it to the floor, revealing what actually looks like a set of crisp white sheets beneath. “That’s better,” I say, surprised and

a wooden chair by the window, pulling off his soaked shoes. “I always took you for

wanting very much to be dry and warm Roger just chuckles and says

though, from glancing at the contours of his abs, which I haven’t seen. since that night when he cried in

and turning towards him. “Where are your

he says simply, a little frustrated, gesturing to the heap of his pants on

floor and tossing his shirt on top of them. “They’re soaked. I’m not sitting in

stops.” He smirks at 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 relaxed. “Besides,”

the first thought that pops into my mind is that he looks like a damn underwear model, laying there like that, his