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something? Excited?
        Kyle climbed out of bed. His clothes were draped on a chair. With his back to his father, he dropped his pyjama pants and put on his jockey shorts. He started to step into the good slacks he'd worn for hosting at the Chalet.
        'Not those,' Dad said. 'Put on some grubbies.'
         Why?
        He didn't ask. He went to his closet, and got into jeans and an old shirt. Then he put on socks and jogging shoes.
        Dad led the way. The lights had been dimmed in the deserted lobby. The hotel was silent. Kyle felt as if the building itself were asleep.
        Dad said nothing.
        They walked down the corridor of the east wing, even walked past the door of 115, the final guestroom.
         We're going to the stairs, Kyle thought. He is taking me up to Darcy's room.
        But Dad stopped at the very last door before the corridor's end. It was unmarked. In the past, Kyle had tried to unlock it. This was the one door he'd found in the entire hotel that didn't open to the pass key.
        Dad had told him, long ago and more than once, that it was a storeroom.
         He's gonna lock me in!
         You like sneaking into rooms so much, spend some time in this.
        Dad took a leather key case out of his pocket. It was the one Kyle had given him for his last birthday. He unsnapped it. On one of the metal clips were two matching keys, one that looked shiny and new. He tugged the new key loose, and held it up in front of Kyle's eyes. It shone like gold in the dim lights.
        'I had this made for you on your fifteenth birthday,' he whispered, still in that same tense voice. 'But I saved it till I was sure you were ready.'
        'Ready for what?' Kyle rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans.
        'I saw you coming out of that room tonight, I figured it was time.'
        'I didn't do anything.'
        'Oh, I got a pretty good idea what you were doing. Used to do it myself. Then one day, my Daddy gave me one of these.' He handed the bright new key to Kyle. 'Go on, open her up.'
        Kyle's hand shook so badly that the point of the key scraped the lock face. His father took his hand, held it steady, and guided the key in. Kyle turned it. He opened the door.
        He glimpsed red curtains, an easy chair. Then Dad nudged him forward, followed him inside and closed the door.
        The small room was dark except for a faint glow coming in around the edges of the curtains. A hand on Kyle's shoulder guided him, turned him.
        'Now, don't yell or anything,' Dad whispered.
        Silently, the curtains parted.
        Kyle's mind reeled. His heart hammered. His breath rushed out.
        He was standing no more than two feet from a window - not a window, exactly. It had to be a two-way mirror. A full length mirror like those on the bathroom doors of all the other units. This one, however, was obviously not on the bathroom door. It was set into the wall.
        On the other side of the glass was a guest-room.
        Room 115.
        Its lights were on.
        On the bed was the woman he'd seated at the Chalet, the one with the rose blossom perfume.
        The bed covers lay heaped on the floor and she was squirming on the sheet.
        'Name's Amy,' Dad said. 'Amy Lawson.'
        She was naked.
        A wide band of white tape covered her mouth. Her hands were tied together with clothes-line, arms stretched overhead and secured to the wrought-iron bedframe. Her legs were spread far apart, tied at the ankles to the corners of the frame.
        Kyle stared. He had never seen a real woman naked. Pictures in magazines, but never the real thing.
        This was better than anything he had ever imagined.
        Her struggles to free herself made it even better. She was rocking, twisting, arching her back, pulling at the ropes. Her big breasts bobbed and swayed. Her skin was shiny with sweat. It looked dark and polished from the sun, pure