The architecture was beautiful, all classy old world Victorian charms in ornately carved wood fixtures and moldings. The faint moonlight trickled through the window at the end of the hall and mixed eerily with the flickering yellow of the light just past the main entrance. The hair on the back of my neck rose and my stomach felt like it could flitter away, I felt as though I had just stepped onto the set of an old horror movie and Vincent Price could round the corner at any moment.
It never occurred to me. At least until I woke up in a house that was not my own. In a bed that was not familiar to me. In the arms of a man I barely knew, with my hair ribbon tied at my wrists in a pretty bow. That’s when I realized just how sexual those two things could be.