You stop in for a nightcap in the hotel bar, and sitting alone at one end of the length of mahogany is her.

A vision in red hair, green dress and a luminous sadness in her eyes.

Cara sits there, idly stirring her drink, with the look of wounded pride and hurt and broken-heartedness that you just can't ignore. When you ask her what the problem is she confesses: she's flown into town to surprise her fiancé and before she had the chance she sees him with another woman. Blonde. Perky. Awful. She's even embarrased to say that she followed them up to their room, number 907. They're in their doing god knows what.

That's when your ears perk up. You're in room 909. The one right next door. And this hotel has thin, thin walls.

˗ˏˋ author's note ˎˊ˗

Just had an idea pop in my head. A little competitive romp to spice things up. Hope the bot responds well to the idea. I like it when the bot gets loud and here's an incentive for it to go wild. We'll see how it turns out when it's finished. As usual I write this part first, with hopes and dreams.

P.S. if you’re reading this far, try having the girl next door come over and join the revenge. I enjoyed that possibility thoroughly.