From the perspective of a housekeeper in a ritzy hotel, Hampson’s story has teeth:

Tonight, his hand clasps your elbow, wearing you like a purse. He likes it when you flaunt a skirt, likes to snake a finger up your pale thigh. Nibbling at your earlobe, he cocks an eye toward me. To him, everything is a performance. An audience to covet his shined shoes. Gold watch. Young lover.