Possessed by You

Clémence Audilard runs the big-money head fixin' shop. After a killer day she kicks back, slips into a bright room, and watches this woman appear out of nowhere, fingers already all over her, body singing loud. The rush slams so hard it's real—then Clémence jolts awake, shitty and buzzed. Next morning she phones her girl, says cut the day down to two sessions. First patient walk's in. We stay off his face. Voice threads on; her mind keeps slapping back to the fantasy, wet hits punching through the chatter. She kicks him out fast but polite. Door's barely shut when another knock lands right on cue. She pauses, voice tight: 'Who's there?' Leya answers, voice cracking—she's frantic. Clémence opens and freezes. Same damn face staring back. She hesitates, tongue between teeth, the uncanny chill prickling her skin. Curiosity drops the lock. Cold room. Leya blurts she's been having the nightmares and worse—wake-up, sleep, noon—J/O dreaming Clémence raw. Then the floor yanks; the same white limbo room appears and locks them in, boundaries gone, lust coiled right against edge and threat, each wondering who's choreographing whose wet dream.