Admit One: A Spicy Short Story

In honour of our upcoming show Sexfessional, we present a very short story designed to get your pulse racing. The story is fictional, but that doesn’t mean you can’t wish it was real.

Working the door at an improv show, I handle a lot of tickets. Some people fumble with their phones, some try to sweet-talk their way past a sold-out show, and some—like the man standing in front of me now—make the whole interaction feel like something else entirely.

He was tall, sharp-jawed, with a smirk that said he knew exactly what he was doing. He held up his phone, his digital ticket glowing between us.

“Hope you don’t mind if I take my time,” he said, tilting the screen just enough to make me lean in. “I like a smooth entry.”

I lifted the scanner, aiming for the QR code. “As long as your ticket’s valid, I’ll make sure you get in.”

He hummed, low in his throat. “I like hearing that.”

The scanner hovered over the code, but he shifted, forcing me to adjust.

“Hold still,” I murmured. “I need a clean read.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t realize you were the type who liked to take control.”

I clicked the trigger—beep—and his phone vibrated lightly in his hand.

“Looks like I’ve been approved,” he said, watching me closely.

“You’ve been processed,” I corrected. “Doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want in there.”

He slid his phone into his pocket, the movement slow and deliberate. “Guess I’ll have to behave myself.”

I crossed my arms, amused. “Unlikely. You’re front row.”

His grin deepened. “Ah, so I’ll be fully exposed.”

“Vulnerable,” I countered. “Open to interaction.”

He nodded, stepping just close enough to drop his voice. “I like an interactive experience.”

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Enjoy the show.”

He turned toward the entrance, but not before glancing back. “I already am.”

I swallowed, pretending I wasn’t watching him go.

I scanned the next ticket, the beep feeling just a little more charged than usual.