"Let me help you."
Mira looks back over her shoulder, finding Zoey leaning against the door frame. Their tie hangs loosely around their neck, framing the patch of skin that shows from their now mostly unbuttoned dress shirt, sleeves rolled up without any of the care from earlier this evening. She can see the edges of the skin-coloured binding tape peek through the fabric and a shiver runs down her spine. Zoey has an unparalleled way of looking stunning no matter how they present on any given day
"Please," she answers quietly with a nod, scared to break whatever spell has them trapped in the low light of her hotel room.
The way they push away from the wall with that same infuriatingly charming smile that makes Mira's heart beat faster against her ribs, closing the distance between them.
Zoey's hands are warm against her skin, their touch cautious and respectful in a way that makes Mira melt even further under their attention.
"Such a gentleman," she breathes as she feels the zipper split open.
Zoey huffs out a laugh against her back. "A beautiful woman such as yourself deserves nothing less than a gentleman."
It's Mira's turn to laugh now. At the line, yes, but also at the absurdity of the statement. She knows how people like Zoey operate, knows what it's like in their line of business—you wine and dine, and sometimes fuck (and fuck over) people just to get ahead. It's how it works, it's just part of the job. She's done it more times than she can count on her fingers and doesn't begrudge Zoey for doing the same. But something sticky and molten, something envious, clings to her ribs and she can't help the bitterness her next words bring.
"Do you say that to all the beautiful women that invite you back to their hotel room after you take them out to dinner?"
"No," they say, fingers trailing behind the clasp until the zipper of her dress is fully open. "Just the one standing in front of me tonight."
