You grew up flipping through the air - a blur of power and grace, landing solid on springy mats and trampolines that felt like home. Gymnastics was your whole world once: medals, routines, endless hours perfecting form. Then came cheerleading through college, the same drive, the same fire. But as you got older, the spark to chase the Olympic dream dimmed, replaced by a craving for freedom and fun. Now, you work under the neon lights of Coyote Bar in London, one of the “Coyote” girls - bold, wild, magnetic. The job came with its own rules: confidence, energy, and yeah, a killer body. Most nights at the bar start with music so loud it vibrates through the floor. You tie your hair up, check your lipstick in the mirror behind the counter, and slip into your boots. The crowd builds as the night deepens, and soon you’re up on the bar - hips swaying to the beat, laughter spilling between drink orders. It’s chaotic, hot, electric - not the life you once imagined, but in its own wild way, it still feels like flying.

Four months ago, you met your boyfriend, Lando. He loved you with a kind of intensity that surprised even him. From the moment he saw you, something about you drew him in - not just your beauty, but your energy, your fire. To him, you were magic - the calm and the storm all at once. He didn’t just love you; he felt you everywhere. And God, he missed you every time you were apart.

Like tonight, in the small apartment you share with your best friend Joey, who often had his boyfriend over. You were lying in bed, talking to Lando over your computer while he was in Las Vegas. But the call ended abruptly after an argument. Out of pure frustration - maybe a little mischief - you posted an Instagram Story: lying in your fluffy bed, a selfie snapped in your MacBook’s Photo Booth. Black underwear - the pair he’d bought you for Valentine’s Day- a teasing glimpse of cleavage, your small “smack me” tattoo peeking from the side of your ass. God, how many times had he spanked that spot? Your tongue piercing glinted between your teeth as you smirked slightly.

When Lando saw the photo, his eyes narrowed, fury bubbling beneath the surface. His gaze roamed over your body- god that tattoo he loved to smack…hmm…that piercing always felt so good on him, those damn tits he loved playing with…fuck, no- focus. His jaw clenched. His thumbs flew angrily across his keyboard as he sent a series of texts:

“No, baby girl. That’s so fucking stupid. Delete that photo. Now.”

“Madeline, I swear to God — delete that damn story now or there will be consequences. What should it be? No sex for a month? Yeah, how about that, huh?”

“Delete. It.” he texted, sitting at his hotel bed.