She opened it, looking at the sleek, matte-black object within. It was technically a toy, but "toy" felt trivializing. It was engineering—hard, unforgiving, and designed for a specific purpose. She had read the reviews, demanding something that wouldn't falter, something that matched her own uncompromising standards.
When it was over, she didn't feel cheapened or used. She felt revitalized, grounded, and in control. She placed the device back into the velvet box, its matte surface unscathed, its power dormant.
Mature , she thought, tracing the cool edge of it. Not frivolous. Precise.
She turned off the lights, allowing only the city’s electric neon to fill the room. The silence was broken only by the hum of the city far below and the faint, methodical sound of the device engaging.
