Sheaths

Havermouth, Present Time

As Rhett’s room reflected his gothic tastes, and Cameron’s his country farm tastes, Heath’s room was entirely him. Sleek polished surfaces, no clutter, expensive and designer. His bed, like Rhett’s, was a four poster, but square and spare. He had chosen a four poster she saw, swallowing hard, in order to use the poles to mount the restraints. Each pole had several fixtures, from finger-thick metal loops to black rope already tied into place. Next to the bed was a glass-topped table, upon which was laid a wide array of sex toys.

Heath’s sexual interests were unapologetically on display.

“I guess you don’t have a house cleaner,” she observed. “Or visitors.”

“No cleaner,” he opened the door into the bathroom. “And no visitors that would be invited into my bedroom.”

The bathroom was tiled in glossy white subway tiles with black grout. The tapware was black, and the porcelain was white. The floor was a patterned black tile in style with the heritage of the house,