The Rabbit Hole sat at the end of Bunny Trail Avenue, tucked between a bookshop and a undromat that never seemed to have customers. The sign was subtle, just a white rabbit silhouette, barely visible unless you knew to look for it.

  Mr. Bck Sheep knew to look for it.

  He parked two blocks away, as always. Walked the rest of the distance with his colr turned up, his hat pulled low. Not that anyone would recognize him here. This part of town didn't ask questions. That's why the Rabbit Hole thrived.

  The door was bck cquered wood with a brass knocker. He used it twice. A pause. Then once more.

  The door opened.

  The White Rabbit stood there, tall, lean, impeccably dressed in a white suit that cost more than most people's monthly rent. His ears were pristine, his pink eyes sharp behind gold-rimmed spectacles. He looked like he belonged in a boardroom, not running an escort service.

  But business was business.

  "Mr. Bck Sheep." The White Rabbit's voice was smooth, professional. "Right on time."

  "I'm always on time."

  "Indeed." The White Rabbit stepped aside, gesturing him in. "Your usual suite is ready. And I took the liberty of arranging for Philip. I believe he's your preference?"

  "He is."

  The interior of the Rabbit Hole was elegant in a way that made Mr. Bck Sheep's office look garish by comparison. Deep burgundy walls, soft lighting, plush carpets that swallowed sound. Cssical music pyed quietly from somewhere unseen. Everything whispered discretion. Money. Safety.

  The White Rabbit led him down a hallway lined with doors. Each one was numbered in gold. They stopped at number seven.

  "I'll have Philip up in fifteen minutes," the White Rabbit said. "That gives you time to prepare. As always, your privacy is absolute. No interruptions. No questions." He pulled a key from his pocket, handed it over. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. Bck Sheep."

  Then he was gone, disappearing down the hallway like smoke.

  Mr. Bck Sheep unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  The room was perfect. It was always perfect.

  A rge bed with cream-colored sheets. A vanity with a mirror. A wardrobe. Soft lighting that made everything look warm and gentle. There was a bottle of wine on the nightstand, expensive, red, already opened to breathe.

  And on the bed, id out carefully, was the dress.

  It was Mary's style. Soft blue fabric, modest cut, the kind of thing she'd wear to church or a dinner party. Nothing provocative. Nothing sexual. Just... feminine, weak.

  Mr. Bck Sheep locked the door behind him.

  He stood there for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. This was always the worst part, the moment before. The moment when he was still himself, still Leonard, still Mr. Bck Sheep, drug lord, businessman, man who deserved to be in control.

  He tolerated that image.

  He started undressing. The suit came off first, tailored, expensive, armor. Then the shirt. The silk undershirt. The pants. Everything that made him Bck Sheep, the businessman. He folded each piece carefully, methodically, and set them on the chair by the vanity.

  The dress was soft against his skin when he pulled it on. It fit perfectly. The White Rabbit always made sure it fit perfectly. Mr. Bck Sheep had paid enough over the years for that attention to detail.

  He sat at the vanity, looking at himself in the mirror.

  He didn't try to look like Mary. He couldn't. They were twins, but she was softer, prettier, more right somehow. He just... wore the dress. Let himself exist in it.

  His hands were shaking slightly.

  He poured himself a gss of wine, drank it down faster than he should have. Poured another.

  By the time the knock came at the door, he'd finished the second gss.

  "Come in," he called. His voice was softer. Not quite Mary's, but... not quite his own either.

  The door opened.

  Philip stepped inside.

  He was one of the wolf people: tall, broad-shouldered, with dark fur and kind eyes. He was handsome in that easy, masculine way that made Mr. Bck Sheep's dick hard. He wore scks and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Casual. Comfortable.

  Philip smiled when he saw him. "Hello, Mary."

  The name hit him like a physical thing.

  "Hello," Mr. Bck Sheep, Mary, said quietly.

  Philip closed the door behind him, locked it. Then he crossed the room, moving slowly, giving her time to adjust. He'd done this before. Many times. He knew the script.

  "Long day?" Philip asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  "Yes." Mary sat beside him, her hands folded in her p. The dress pooled around her legs. "Very long."

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "No." She looked at him, at his kind eyes, at the way he looked at her like she was normal. Like this was normal. "I just want to forget for a while."

  Philip reached out, tucked a strand of bck wool behind her ear. The gesture was gentle. Intimate. "Then let's forget."

  He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.

  She didn't want to.

  The kiss was soft. Careful. Everything Leonard could never be as himself.

  Mary let herself melt into it.

  Philip's hands were on her waist, pulling her closer. "You're tense," he murmured against her lips.

  "I'm always tense."

  "Not here." His hands moved up her back, finding the knots in her shoulders. "Here, you get to rex. Remember?"

  She did remember. That's why she came back. Again and again and again.

  Philip kissed her neck, his hands sliding down to her hips. "What do you need tonight, Mary? Gentle or rough?"

  The question should have been clinical. Transactional. But Philip asked it like he cared about the answer.

  "Rough," she breathed. "I need rough tonight."

  Because Leonard had been in control all day. All week. Always. And Mary got to let go.

  Philip understood. He always understood.

  His grip tightened on her hips, pulling her against him hard enough to make her gasp. "Then that's what you'll get."

  He pushed her back onto the bed, his body covering hers, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. His mouth found hers again, harder this time, teeth catching her lower lip.

  Mary moaned into it.

  This was what she needed. To be overwhelmed. To be taken. To submit in a way Leonard never could.

  Philip's hands were rough now, pushing up the dress, finding desire. His mouth moved down her throat, biting, marking. "Tell me what you want."

  "I want—" Her voice broke. "I want you to—"

  "Say it."

  "Fuck me." The words came out desperate, shameless. "Please."

  Philip growled low in his throat, a sound that went straight through her. "Good girl."

  Good girl.

  The words made something inside her crack open.

  Leonard was never good. Leonard was in control, was strong, was untouchable. Leonard didn't get to be good, didn't get to be girl, didn't get to be anything soft or wanted or desired in the way that mattered.

  But Mary did.

  Philip's hands gripped her hips, firm and commanding. "Roll over."

  The command sent a shiver down her spine. This was it, the moment Leonard could never allow. The vulnerability. The submission.

  Mary turned onto her stomach, the dress bunching up around her waist. She felt Philip's hands on her, positioning her, and the exposure made her breath catch.

  "That's it," Philip murmured, his voice rough. "Just like that."

  His hands were everywhere now, pulling the dress higher, spreading her, preparing her. Mary buried her face in the pillow, her fingers clutching the sheets.

  Leonard was always the one in control. Always on top. Always taking.

  But Mary got to be taken.

  She gasped when Philip entered her, her body tensing before forcing herself to rex, to submit, to let him in.

  "Breathe," Philip said, his voice steady even as he pushed deeper. "I've got you."

  And she did breathe, and she let go of everything Leonard had to be, and when Philip started moving, rough like she'd asked for, hard enough to make her cry out, it was exactly what she needed.

  His hands gripped her hips bruisingly tight. His breath was hot against her neck. And Mary let herself be fucked in a way Leonard never could be, vulnerable and wanting and desperate and soft.

  "God," she gasped, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Don't stop—"

  "Not pnning on it." Philip's voice was rough with effort, his rhythm relentless.

  Mary felt herself getting close, felt the tension that lived in Leonard's shoulders finally breaking, felt everything she wasn't allowed to feel the rest of the time crash over her in waves.

  When she came, it was with a cry that sounded nothing like the man she was the rest of the time.

  Philip followed moments ter, his grip tightening, his breath stuttering against her neck.

  Afterward, he pulled out carefully and helped her roll over. They y tangled together, Philip's arm around her waist, his breath warm against her shoulder.

  "Better?" he asked quietly.

  "Yes." Mary's voice was small. Sated. Real. "Thank you."

  "You pay me enough to be what you need." But there was no cruelty in it. Just fact.

  She knew that. Knew this was a transaction. Knew Philip didn't actually care about her, about Mary, about whatever this was. He was good at his job. That's all.

  But for a few hours, she could pretend someone wanted her like this. Soft and vulnerable and herself in a way Leonard never got to be.

  "I should go," she said eventually.

  "You paid for the whole night."

  "I know." But staying too long made it harder to go back. Harder to put Leonard back on like the armor he was.

  Philip helped her up, helped her smooth the dress back down. He didn't make a fuss when she started undressing, folding the dress carefully, putting Leonard's clothes back on piece by piece.

  By the time she was dressed, she was Mr. Bck Sheep again.

  Philip was still on the bed, watching him. "Same time next week?"

  "Probably." Mr. Bck Sheep adjusted his tie, checked his reflection in the vanity mirror. Solid. Controlled. Untouchable. "Depends on how business goes."

  "Business." Philip smiled slightly. "Right."

  Mr. Bck Sheep left without another word.

  The White Rabbit was waiting in the hallway, discreet as always. "I trust everything was satisfactory?"

  "It was."

  "Excellent. Your account has been settled. We'll see you next time, Mr. Bck Sheep."

  He nodded and left, walking back down the hallway, out through the bck door, into the cold night air.