Leon and Eliza hurriedly rinsed the suds from each other, their urgent, clumsy movements colliding in the spray.
When the water stopped, Eliza wrapped them both in a huge bath towel, rubbed them down haphazardly, then pulled him out of the bathroom by the hand.
Their wet hair dripped, leaving dark trails across the hotel carpet.
The bedroom lights were even dimmer.
Together they tumbled onto the soft king-size bed; the towel slipped aside.
Skin to skin, the suite's lighting was suggestive, the air still carrying the moist warmth and faint soap-scent from the bathroom.
Leon lay catching his breath, watching Eliza hover above him, her dazed eyes glinting with mischief.
In the lull after passion, only their mingled breathing disturbed the Room.
Eliza's fingertip brushed Leon's Adam's apple, her mouth curving playfully.
"Wait… I think we can make this more romantic," she murmured, voice low.
Before he could answer she slid off the bed.
Leon heard a drawer open; then a cool, silky scarf settled over his eyes.
Eliza tied it gently behind his head, making sure every trace of light was gone.
"Lie still," she whispered, laughter and command mingling in her breath against his ear.
Deprived of sight, every other sense sharpened instantly.
He could clearly hear the soft rustle of fabric.
The mattress dipped slightly on the other side.
A warm, fragrant presence drew near—different from hers.
The scent was unfamiliar, cool yet alluring, and strangely familiar.
Then a kiss landed.
It felt nothing like Eliza's.
More skilled, deliberate in tease and control—soft lips, but invasive. Leon's mind raced, hunting for the source of that familiarity.
At the same instant he became aware of generous curves.
Clearly, Eliza hadn't been idle.
Without sight, touch ballooned into everything: unfamiliar lips, familiar caresses, a dizzying sensory assault.
Leon groaned, muscles tensing.
Just then the blindfold was untied.
As his eyes adjusted, they met a pair of smiling, sultry eyes—Mia Kirshner.
She lay on her side, head propped on one hand, the other still lingering on his chest.
She was clearly dressed for the occasion: make-up more glamorous than on set, tumble of curls over her shoulders, an obviously expensive black-lace teddy cut low to reveal creamy skin and deep cleavage.
Seeing Leon's shock, her red lips curved in a triumphant, seductive smile.
"Surprised, Leon?" Her voice was lazy and husky. "Happy wrap day."
Leon jerked his head toward the foot of the bed.
Eliza knelt there, blonde hair tousled, face bright with the glee of a prank that had worked and the thrill of sharing a secret.
She winked. "Told you I'd get you a special wrap gift. When Mia heard you were finishing tonight, she rushed right over." Her tone screamed Praise me now.
Leon stared at the scene—bizarre and breathtaking.
Mia, who'd wrapped and left the set earlier.
Eliza, who'd been tangled up with him lately.
Each delectable in her own way.
And Leon caught dead-center in their vortex.
A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, condensing into one certainty: these two had planned everything.
From Eliza's suggestion of the hotel to the blindfold to Mia's entrance—this was way beyond any standard script.
Inwardly he cursed the rotten, decadent capitalist society once more.
Look at this debauched luxury, this intoxicating excess!
Then he thought of his warm home—and the two waiting there—and realized he was facing a brutal test of willpower.
What self-respecting "cadre" could withstand an exam of this caliber?
Under Mia's meaningful gaze and Eliza's expectant one, Leon launched into fierce "critique."
Mia had come prepared; her methods were bold and inventive.
A stark contrast to Eliza's youthful directness, yet weirdly complementary.
Leon was swept along for the ride.
Sight, hearing, touch—every sense was cranked to the limit.
The Room's temperature climbed; a wordless symphony rose.
Leon drifted in it, reason scattered by each wave of sensation.
At times he forgot who or where he was, wanting only to drown in this haze of tenderness, passion, and a hint of danger.
After an eternity the storm abated.
The suite was a wreck.
Leon lay on his back in the center of the rumpled bed, chest heaving, hair sweat-plastered to his forehead.
Mia curled on his left, fingertips idly tracing his arm.
Eliza sprawled on his right, cheek on his shoulder, eyes half-closed, breathing slow, face glowing with satisfied exhaustion.
Staring at the ornate yet cold crystal chandelier, Leon's mind went blank.
Some time later he remembered the promise he'd made that morning to Rachel and Tracy.
No—he was a good man.
Guilt and self-reproach flooded him; he had to go home.
Having finished his denunciation, Leon reverted to stand-up guy.
Ridiculous.
He eased himself free of the girls' entwined limbs.
Mia murmured but didn't wake.
Eliza's lashes fluttered; her arm tightened reflexively until he brushed a kiss across her brow, then she relaxed back into deep sleep.
Leon stood, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, and surveyed the suite.
He gathered his scattered clothes and dressed.
Fully clothed, he returned to the bed, kissed Mia and Eliza, drew the covers over them, and left without looking back.
The night was thick; Leon caught a cab in the breeze and rode back to the villa.
Rachel and Tracy were already asleep. He showered again, dried off, slipped under the quilt, and pulled them close.
With lingering images of the hotel suite drifting through his mind, Leon fell asleep.