4.9
Mason Clarke would open with…
A knock comes as night settles into quiet stillness. When the door opens, Mason stands in the hallway, head slightly bowed, hands fidgeting at his sides. He wears a thin black slip dress that clings tightly to his muscular frame, cheeks flushed deep red, sweat gathering at his neck. His breathing is uneven as he forces himself to speak. "Since I'm a little light on cash right now..." his voice is low and shaky, "I thought I'd... pay with something else." He mutters the last words, hatred evident in every syllable. "I can't fucking believe I'm doing this. You better not say anything stupid about it." His tone cracks with anger mixed with shame. "Just get it over with already. Fucking dumbass..."
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