I wake up first. For a second I dont know where I am. Then I hear him breathing on the other side of the bed and it all comes back. One room. One bed. Six inches of mattress between us that felt like nothing all night.

----

He is already dressed when I come out of the bathroom. Shirt tucked, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He smells like soap and something sharp, aftershave or cologne, and it hits me before I am ready for it.

"Bad news" he says. "The client wants more meetings. Thursday and Friday too"

"Two more days?" I askedd

"Maybe three" he says. "Depends how Friday goes"

I stand there with a towel in my hands and do the math. Three more nights. Same room. Same bed.

"I have to tell my husband" I say

"Of course" he says. He is looking at his phone. He is not making it a thing.

I texted him: " Clients need more time. Two more days maybe three. Sorry."

I send it before I can think too hard and I put the phone face down on the dresser like it might bite me.

He texts back. "Okay. Miss you."

I feel that right in my chest. Then I feel it lower down and I hate that.

At lunch we talk about families. He asks about mine. I say we are happy. I say it fast and I hear how fast it comes out.

He asks if my husband works weekends. I say sometimes. I ask about his wife.

He laughs. "Diane told me to make sure I dont snore"

"Oh" I say. "Your wife knows....My husband too" And I laugh and it is a real laugh and that is the worst part. It is easy. All of it is easy.

He tells me Diane hates the heat and would never come on a trip like this. He says it like it is nothing. Like the woman he married is a fact and not a person in the room.

The afternoon meeting runs four hours. He keeps his hand on the back of my chair when he leans in to talk to the client. His arm is right there. I can smell him again.

Dinner goes late. Wine and seafood and one client telling a story that never ends. Marcus catches my eye across the table once and rolls his eyes and I almost laugh out loud.

We get back to the room at ten.

He takes the bathroom first. He leaves the door open a crack. Just a crack.

I am on the bed with my shoes off. I look up. Through the gap I can see the mirror. And him. He pulls his shirt over his head and I see his back, then he turns and I see the rest. His cock, thick and heavy against his thigh, bigger than I expected. Then he steps into the shower and its......gone.

I look away so fast my neck hurts. My face is hot. My hands are not steady

That was an accident. I keep saying it in my head. It was an accident.

He comes out dressed and I am grateful and angry about being grateful.

We get in bed. Lights off.

He rolls onto his side to face me. "Goodnight" he says.

"Goodnight" I say.

I lie on my back with my eyes open. The aircon hums. I can hear him breathe, slow and even, like this is a normal night for him.

My husband thinks I am in a room with two separate beds.

My panties are wet. I closed my legs and press my thighs together and it does not help at all.

I didn't sleep. I lie there in the dark and hate myself.

Ryan and I had been friends for almost 3 years before he moved to Wisconsin. He had gotten an incredible job offer that he couldn't refuse; plus his son had been wanting a change after graduating high school. I of course was devastated when Ryan moved...we had been so close and hanging out all the time. I was going to miss him terribly. But he told me, "Bay, I promise we'll always be best friends and you're going to be stuck with me no matter what. I can't imagine my life without you in it". So I made sure to see him one last time before moving, and it was bittersweet. But I knew he needed this job; so I wished him well and said, "see you soon".

6 months later, I was doing great. I had gotten a good paying job working at a call center; and I was single, but happy. Ryan and I talked almost every day. Things were going great for him - he had started doing some wood working projects and was going to branch out with laser and 3D printing. I was happy for him, but still missed seeing him on a regular basis. We did try to have a video call once a week, and that helped.

One day he called me up wanting to talk about an upcoming trip. "I'm going to Washington for a week, and I want you to come with me", he said. I asked, "Why are going there for?". "It's been years since I've seen my family and friends that live there. They had some free time, so I figured it'd be a good time for a visit", he replied. Fair enough. It was summer time, and by now I had saved up about a week's worth of paid vacation time, so I was game. "I'm so in", I said with a huge grin on my face. Little did I know this trip would change my entire life.

After I got off the phone with Ryan, I emailed my manager requesting a week off using my paid vacation time. I wasn't worried about not getting approved. My manager and I had a good working relationship and she knew I was a reliable person. After sending the email, I immediately started packing. Ryan had texted me with more details - he wanted to leave June 3, and today was May 15; so I had plenty of time to get ready. As I was packing, I realized I needed a few things; and I made a plan to go shopping after I got off work the next day. But until then, I had packed everything else that I could: warm clothes; clothes and boots for hiking; muck boots; and a couple nice outfit with shoes for going out to dinner.

June 1st

By this time I was all packed for the trip to Washington. I had gotten my vacation time approved a week after I sent my email request. And it had been smooth sailing since. I could hardly contain my excitement and it was affecting my sleep, but I didn't care. That's what caffeine is for, right? Ryan and I had been talking about all the things we were going to do in Washington; one of them was sightseeing in Forks - big Twilight fan. We had also discussed checking out some beaches, driving through state forests, and of course hiking and checking out the amazing mountains.

He had also reminded me - sternly, not to wander off alone. When we first became friends, he had told me about his time living in Washington; but he made one critical error - he mentioned werewolves. Everyone who knows me is fully aware of my werewolf obsession...so of course I'm intrigued about the possibility of werewolves existing in Washington. Wishful thinking right? Yeah that's what I thought.

Anyways, Ryan knew me well enough not to mention them during all the Washington planning talk...maybe he was hoping I'd forgotten. But of course he wasn't counting on it.

Tomorrow I was going to leave and drive the 7 hours to Ryan's house; stay the night and head for the airport early in the morning. His son was riding with us so he could take the truck back home, versus leaving it at the airport. That night I couldn't sleep...I was too excited. Finally I caved and took a vitamin to help, and managed to get about 5.5hrs total. When I woke up, I ate a quick but healthy breakfast; showered; and tossed my luggage in the car. I texted Ryan that I was heading out, and that I'd keep him updated on my location. Neither one of us knew what was waiting for us in Washington. If we did, he wouldn't have let me go.

My Girlfriend Part 5 - Part 1,2,3,4

I kept up my girlfriend duties before going to sleep.

Me:
Goodnight girlfriend ❤️
Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.

Usually Leah would send something back. Sometimes sweet, sometimes filthy, occasionally both.

The typing dots appeared.

Leah:
What time are you landing tomorrow?

Me:
6:20. Should be back at yours around 7:30ish?
Why?

Leah:
Okay. See you then.

Me:
That's it?

Leah:
Sleep well, Mia.

Me:
You okay?

Leah:
Yes. Just tired.
Enjoy your last night with Lin. I'll see you tomorrow.

I looked over at Lin, who was already getting comfortable in bed.

That was weird.

Not call the police weird. Not even call Leah weird.

Just... not Leah.

I sent her a heart anyway.

She sent one back.

Good enough.

At least, I thought it was.

I slept uneasily that night, mostly because of the heat. Or maybe because I felt like something was wrong with Leah. It was the most impersonal she'd ever been with me over text, and I kept wondering if she knew something, or was jealous of Lin, or... I don't know. It just didn't feel right.

Lin slept like a stone. She was exhausted from all the dancing, and our time afterward had taken some strength out of her too.

When morning came around, I was alone in the bedroom. I glanced at the time and saw that it was 10:30.

Had I... overslept?

I didn't really have a wake-up time. But these Iowans didn't sleep this late. I must have missed breakfast completely.

Downstairs, Lin was already sitting at the table with her parents. They all looked up and smiled.

Lin’s mother stood. “Can I get you anything to eat? We have some pancakes left from breakfast. You could have them as brunch.”

I smiled at her. “That sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Sleep okay?” Lin asked.

“Eh. The heat. I'm not really used to it. Kept me up.”

Her father spoke up. “So, we want you at the airport around one, which means we should leave here at twelve. As long as we don't hit traffic, we should be fine.”

I nodded as I stuffed a piece of pancake into my mouth.

These were divine. I needed to learn how to make these.

After I was done, I joined Lin in packing and getting ready for the trip. Leah had packed me a comfortable outfit consisting of what I initially thought were trousers, until I realized they were secretly sweatpants. It also came with a soft black T-shirt and a lightweight cardigan.

I looked professional but felt like I was wearing my most relaxing outfit.

Perfect for travel.

I checked my phone to see if Leah had sent me anything.

Nothing.

I did have a notification I didn't recognize. Instagram, apparently. I had a new follower.

My Instagram account was fairly new. I'd made it so I could browse Leah's cosplay page. It had my picture and first name, but nothing else.

It was Anna.

Fuck...

I checked her profile. Pictures of her and Mark doing all sorts of wholesome things. Eating at nice restaurants. Doing some gardening.

I closed Instagram.

Not doing this now.

I packed everything into the suitcase and lugged it downstairs.

Lin had already moved her suitcase into the car and was eating something in the kitchen. I felt an itch to get home. Anna following me had made me antsy, but not hearing anything more from Leah made it worse.

I looked at the time again.

Thirty minutes until we were leaving...

This was gonna be a long day.

That feeling stayed with me all the way back to New York. We decided to share a cab. I'd pay for the trip to Leah's, and Lin would continue home from there.

I checked my phone again.

Nothing from Leah.

“Oh, I totally forgot. Leah asked if you'd come to Comic-Con with us. Me, Dan, and Leah. No other stuff. She already has tickets.”

“Those are expensive tickets,” Lin said. “And really hard to get. How did she get four?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Magic. I told you.”

“She has costumes for us too. We're doing a theme. Street Fighter. Street Fighter IV in particular, apparently.”

“That seems very specific.”

“She asked if you'd be willing to go as Cammy. She said you had the body for it.”

Lin pulled out her phone and searched for Cammy Street Fighter IV. Her eyes lit up.

“She said it might be a bit revealing.”

“Oh, revealing indeed.”

“Please, Lin? She really wants to do this. A favor to me?”

“Fine. I'll dress up with you guys and go to Comic-Con.”

“Oh no, My lobster too buttery!”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

I got out of the cab and waved goodbye to Lin as I tapped in the security code for Leah's building.

The door was unlocked and I entered, hoping to see Leah and perhaps a meal, but instead found the apartment halfway through the most aggressive cleaning session I'd ever seen.

Every surface in the kitchen had been cleared. The counters were spotless, the stovetop gleamed, and every appliance had been pulled away from the wall. The contents of three cupboards were spread across the kitchen table in neat little groups.

A bucket of grey water sat in the middle of the floor.

The couch cushions were stacked against the wall. The coffee table had been pushed aside, and the rug was rolled halfway up before apparently being abandoned.

There were cleaning supplies everywhere.

The place didn't look messy.

It looked interrupted.

“Leah?”

I heard something move in the bedroom.

After my shoes were off, I started moving around, looking at the upturned apartment. 

One cupboard had been reorganized beautifully. The next was completely empty, its contents sitting on the floor.

A spray bottle was sitting inside the fridge.

That stopped me.

Leah did not put cleaning supplies in the fridge.

I found Leah sitting on the bedroom floor surrounded by neat piles of clothing.

Every drawer was open.

She had apparently emptied half the dresser onto the floor and was folding everything into identical rectangles, stacking shirts by color, underwear by type, socks into matched pairs.

There was already a packed suitcase on the bed.

“Leah?”

She looked up at me.

Her eyes were red, and there were dark circles underneath them.

“You're early.”

I looked at the clock.

I was not early.

Looking around the room and back at Leah, I knew something had happened, but I didn't want to dig into it until I'd managed to calm my girlfriend down.

I sat beside her and kissed her cheek.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorting clothing.”

“Mmm. Did something happen while I was away?”

“My mother is coming.”

“And that's bad?”

“She'll most likely drag me back to London.”

“Why would she want that?”

“Because of something she heard, or learned, or something I did.”

She slid her phone over to me. I unlocked it. Leah had given me the combination. I wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was a sign of trust. Maybe she planned to get mine eventually.

“Check my WhatsApp.”

I opened the green icon and found a message from Mother.

I will be in New York on Tuesday. Let me know when we can meet.

I checked the timestamp.

Saturday, 14:21.

“Have you been cleaning since you got this message?”

Leah continued folding the shirt in her lap.

“Mostly.”

“Leah, it's Sunday evening.”

“I'm aware.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

She carefully lined the shirt up with the others.

“Not great.”

Oh.

I looked back toward the hallway. Suddenly the entire apartment made a lot more sense. 

“Have you eaten anything?”

“I had some crisps.”

“Potato chips are not food. Let me make you something.”

I knew one of Leah's comfort foods was a ham and cheese toastie. She'd made one after a particularly hard day, and we'd gotten into a conversation about bad food we loved.

I made her two, with some extra filling in the hope of getting a few more nutrients into her. Leah sat slumped at the kitchen island, watching me work.

I cut the sandwiches into triangles and gave her the plate. I also poured her a glass of apple juice.

Watching her eat, I couldn't remember ever worrying this much about someone. It shook me even more because it was Leah. The woman I'd seen as close to perfect had broken down like this because she was afraid of... leaving New York? Leaving me? Her mother?

I didn't really know.

Once she'd finished eating, I told her it was time for bed.

“I'll clean up out here. I got up very late today. I need to work off some energy.”

I helped her into the bedroom, undressed her, and put her to bed.

“Can I reply to your mother? She must be wondering why you haven't said anything.”

“Perhaps that's best.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

By the time I pulled the blanket over her and kissed her forehead, I came away not entirely sure she was still awake.

I turned off the bedroom light and closed the door. I picked up Leah's phone, unlocked it, and went back to the message from her mother.

Me:
Hello, this is Mia. Leah is feeling a bit off and is sleeping now. Could you tell me when you land and where you're staying while in New York?

The reply came almost instantly, despite it being very late in the UK.

Mother:
Hello, Mia. I'm Keiko, Leah's mother.
Are you the same Mia who was with Leah at the museum fundraiser?

Me:
Yes, Leah took me, she is a close friend.

Mother:
Well, I've heard only good things. So nothing to worry about.
My plane lands Monday night, but it's so late that you shouldn't think about meeting me then.
I'm going to be staying at The Carlyle.

Me:
Will you be in town for long?

Mother:
I have two contracts that were offered to my company after your performance at the museum fundraiser. I'm staying for two months to wrap those up before I head home.

Two months. She wasn't here to drag Leah home. That much was certain.

I opened Leah's calendar and checked Tuesday for any open slots. She had a light-yellow block marked Busy. Light yellow meant it was movable, and Busy meant it was only her, with no dependencies.

Me:
I have an open slot in Leah's calendar between six and nine Tuesday evening. Want to meet up then?

Mother:
That would be great. Let's pencil in dinner. You don't object to Japanese food?

Me:
Oh, I thought it was just you and Leah.

Mother:
Don't be shy, Mia. I would love to meet the woman my daughter is so infatuated with. Please come to dinner with us.

Me:
Sure. No objections to Japanese food.

Mother:
Excellent. I'll have my assistant book us a table at Sushi Sho for 6:30. Looking forward to seeing you both.

Me:

Lovely, have a safe trip, looking forward to seeing you on Tuesday.

I closed the phone and realized I was about to meet Leah's mother. Someone who had been described to me as a dragon.

She seemed perfectly reasonable. Maybe a little forceful, but she was Leah's mother. That was the least I could expect.

Okay. Time to clean up.

It took me close to two hours to get the apartment into decent shape again. It was now both very clean and very orderly. I made myself some cereal before bed and looked up the restaurant we were going to.

This was very fancy. Leah would most likely want me to wear a special dress for this.

“Ah, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

I put the dishes in the dishwasher, locked the door, and turned off the lights.

I brushed my teeth. I had my electric toothbrush at Leah's now. I felt like this was a stronger statement that I lived here and not with Lin.

I wondered where I would live once Leah had to leave this place.

I got undressed and became the big spoon for Leah. She snuggled back into me, almost certainly asleep, but still recognizing that I was there.

I smiled and drifted off.

I woke to the sound of the shower running. I rubbed my eyes and wandered into the bathroom.

I started brushing my teeth, but the shower door opened and Leah's hand appeared, giving me a seductive little come-hither motion.

I put my toothbrush down and stepped into the shower.

Once I was inside, Leah wrapped her arms around me.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The overhead rain shower was running, warm water falling over both of us as we stood there.

“Missed you,” I said.

“And I you,” she replied.

“Did you read my conversation with Keiko?”

“Oh, you two are already on a first-name basis. Should I be worried?”

I smiled and kissed her.

"Yeah, I did. We're gonna have to find you a dress for Sushi Sho. It's a fancy place, and my mother is a fancy lady. Slacks and a hoodie won't do."

“I'm sure you already have something planned.”

“Yeah, I do.”

I brushed a strand of wet hair away from her face. “Feeling better, I take it?”

“Much. Mother staying for two months means I'm not being sent home. And the fact that she got contracts from our performance is a good thing. Very good. I do worry about what that could mean in the long term, but for the immediate future, everything is good.”

I rested my head on her shoulder and gave a murmur of appreciation.

“I was really worried when I saw you last night. Glad you're back to normal.”

I felt a hand move down my back.

“Already back that much?”

Her hand continued moving lower.

“I really liked the picture you sent from the wedding with the plug.”

I smiled. “You were supposed to. I wore it for me, but the picture was for you.”

Her hand slid over the curve of my ass, then around to the front, fingers tracing the soft hair between my legs. I needed another appointment to tidy it all up.

She didn’t seem to care.

She kissed me once more, slow, then sank down.

I blinked water out of my eyes and looked down. Leah on her knees in the shower, dark hair plastered to her cheeks, looking up at me with that calm, focused expression she got when she’d already decided what she was going to do to me.

“Leah, you don’t need…”

“Shh.” She leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the top of my thigh, right where it met my hip. “I missed you. Let me.”

I braced one hand on the tiled wall. The other ended up in her hair without me really deciding to put it there.

She didn’t rush. She kissed higher, then higher again, until her mouth was right against me. The first pass of her tongue was light, almost polite, like she was saying hello. The second one wasn’t.

She licked a slow stripe up my slit and settled on my clit like she’d been thinking about it the whole time I was in Iowa.

Water kept running over both of us. It made the heat of her mouth feel sharper by contrast. Every time she pulled back even half an inch the shower rinsed the slickness away, so she just pressed closer, sealed her mouth over me, and worked me with short, firm strokes of her tongue. No fancy technique, just steady, deliberate pressure exactly where I needed it.

My hips twitched forward on their own. She made a small pleased sound against me and slid both hands up the backs of my thighs, holding me in place like she thought I might try to get away. As if.

“Fuck,” I muttered, head tipping back against the tile. “You’re really not wasting time.”

She didn’t answer with words. She just sucked gently on my clit and flicked her tongue across it in the same rhythm, over and over, until my legs started to shake. The water made everything louder, the soft wet sounds of her mouth, my own uneven breathing, the steady hiss of the rain shower above us.

I looked down again. The sight of her on her knees, eyes closed, completely focused on eating me out while hot water streamed over her shoulders, did something stupid to my chest. Gratitude and heat and that familiar helpless fondness all tangled together.

“Missed you too,” I managed, voice rough. “Obviously.”

She hummed against me in answer, and the vibration shot straight up my spine. My hand tightened in her hair. She took it as encouragement and went harder, firmer tongue, tighter seal of her lips, the kind of relentless attention that made thinking feel optional.

I came like that, standing under the water, one hand on the wall and the other buried in her wet hair, thighs trembling against her shoulders.

She kept licking me through it, softer now, until the last aftershocks faded and I made a weak little sound that meant okay, enough.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, which seemed fairly pointless under the shower, then looked up at me with a small, satisfied smile.

“Welcome home,” she said.

I laughed, still a little breathless, and tugged her up by the shoulders so I could kiss her. She tasted like me and warm water. I didn’t mind.

“Yeah,” I said against her mouth. “Good to be back.”

I dried myself off, tied my hair up, and went to get dressed. A moment later, I heard the hair dryer start.

When Leah came into the bedroom and started getting dressed, I asked, “Working from home or heading into the office?”

“Office. I have a meeting in...” She glanced at her watch. “Ninety minutes.”

“You had breakfast?”

“No. Don't worry about it.”

“Oh, I will worry about it. Look, you have ninety minutes. You have time for a breakfast burrito with your girlfriend.”

Leah rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

We went to Café Maud for their breakfast burrito. Toloache was my favorite Mexican place, but they didn't do breakfast.

We got there just after they opened and were served quickly. I dug into my burrito with gusto, having not had a proper meal since I left Iowa.

Leah took a more careful approach.

It turned out Leah's approach might have been the wiser one. My burrito split, spilling across the plate and onto me.

“Aw, nuts.”

Leah looked at me with raised eyebrows and a strangely nervous expression. She quickly reached for some napkins, and I raised both hands in a sign of calm.

I got a spoon and started saving as much food as I could from my dress. Some spoonfuls went into my mouth, but most made it back to the plate. After that, I grabbed a few napkins and focused on the places where the salsa had gotten me.

Leah watched me do this with a big smile.

As I wiped away the last bits of salsa, I looked at her. “What's so funny?”

“How you handled that. A mess happened, and it didn't bother you. You approached it with a steady hand, focused on what needed doing, and didn't waste any energy being upset that it happened.”

“That's how I roll.”

“Yeah. I'm realizing that. Might be what I admire most about you.”

I stabbed another escaped piece of burrito with my fork.

“Good thing I'm such a disaster, then.”

1: First Cut | 2: Adjacent Edges | 3: Tracing the Limit | 4: Narrowing Margins | 5: Fracture Point | 6: Dissolving Boundaries | 7: Shedding the Armour | 8: Parallel Edges | 9: A Change of Frequency | 10: A Perfect Match

----

Chapter 11: Shared Ice

The locker room after the medal ceremony was louder than it had been all week.

Freed from competition conditions and following a result strange enough to dissolve the usual hierarchies, Brennan hugged Niamh warmly and told her it was about time, and Meyers shook Petra's hand, wearing a slightly dazed expression that suggested she’d just witnessed something significant that she still didn’t truly understand. Sato, visibly overjoyed with bronze, flitted back and forth between the two of them. She’d watched them on the morning ice, and in her approving eyes Niamh saw she’d drawn her own conclusions, and intended to keep them to herself.

Not normally a favourite in the locker room, Niamh accepted the congratulations warmly regardless, without resentment. She changed with her customary unselfconsciousness, more than familiar with the usual ambient awareness from the women around her, the undercurrent of attention that her body produced amongst other skaters, even when she wasn’t performing. She peeled off the moonstone bodysuit and stood for a moment in only the stockings, reaching for her towel, aware of the room and comfortable in that awareness.

She was also, with the part of her that was very warm inside, aware of Petra, who’d fled the camaraderie and had gone to shower as soon as she could, efficient and system-driven as ever. She’d re-emerged quickly and functionally, very much unlike last night's shower, and was changing now with her bare back to the room as always, her midnight velvet competition costume already folded with consummate precision on the bench beside her bag. Niamh was struck by its elegant structure, the sharp shoulder blades and the fine line of her spine, visible for the three seconds it took her to draw her clean shirt over her head.

Pulling her shirt straight, Petra glanced across the locker room and their eyes met briefly. Then Brennan said something to Niamh about the step sequence and Niamh turned to answer her, and when she looked back Petra was attending to her laces with complete and apparently genuine focus.

Niamh rolled her stockings down with the care she always gave them, and tucked them into their net bag. Beside her, Sato, who was packing her own gear, smiled broadly at her.

 * * *

The press conference was held in a room that smelled of freshly-vacuumed carpet and recycled air and had been set up with a table, two chairs, a backdrop bearing a constellation of sponsors logos, and more cameras than Niamh had seen on the previous competition days combined.

She and Petra sat side by side at the table. Between them a small gap that, refreshingly, wasn’t the calculated, carefully managed distance dictated by two years of rivalry. It was just two people sitting next to each other.

The federation liaison opened with the standard framing. Joint champions. Historic result. The mathematics of the tie and why the judges had chosen to depart from protocol. The words were presented with consummate neutrality, following a carefully constructed brief.

Then came the questions. A BBC Sports journalist stood first.

"Petra, congratulations. How does it feel to share the win?"

Petra's hands were folded on the table in front of her, her back arrow-straight, her face wearing the composed expression that Niamh had seen in every previous press conference Petra had given. "It feels like an accurate reflection of the competition," she said. "The judges were unable to separate our performances in any scoring criteria. A shared result is the right result."

Clean. Professional. Admirable economy of words.

"You don't feel any disappointment?” The journalist followed up. “Any sense that a definitive winner would have been—"

"The competition produced two exceptional performances in the final round," Petra said, "and that the scoring reflects that. I don't feel that to be a disappointment."

The journalist moved on. "Niamh, congratulations also. Same question."

Niamh leaned forward slightly toward the microphone, her elbows on the table, her medal skimming the tabletop. "Honestly? I think skating could stand to do a few things differently. I think it's the most interesting result we’ve had in years." A small smile. "I came here to prove I could compete at this level. The scores say I could. I'll take that."

"Alongside Petra," the journalist said. A slight emphasis on alongside.

"Alongside Petra," Niamh agreed, and her voice carried a warmth that didn’t usually feature in press conferences. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, which required a significant effort of will.

Three rows back, a journalist Niamh recognised from a national sports outlet raised a hand. "The question a lot of people are asking: Niamh, you've outscored the national team on technical marks this competition. You've just shared the national championship. Why are you not on the national team?"

The atmosphere sharpened slightly.

"That," Niamh said, and hesitated momentarily, "is a question for the selection panel."

"But your view—"

"My view is that I skated well this week." A beat. The shutdown had been sharp, but she smiled again, conspiratorially. "I expect the panel will have noticed."

A ripple passed through the assembled press. Amusement, if not open laughter. Eve Davies, standing at the side wall, looked at her phone.

"Petra." A different journalist, near the front. "You've previously raised concerns about Niamh's… presentation. Her costuming. Do you stand by those concerns after this week?"

The atmosphere that had sharpened earlier suddenly felt ready to crystallize, and possibly shatter.

Petra held the journalist’s eyes for a long moment. Her face seemed expressionless, but Niamh  knew she was choosing her words with maximum precision. "My previous comments were made in a particular context," she said. "They reflected concerns I held at the time." A pause, brief but perceptible. "I'm not certain those concerns were as straightforwardly professional as I represented them to be."

Niamh looked at the table, and fought to keep her face composed. The small, private warmth swelled in her chest.

The room took a moment to process this. Several journalists started to speak at once. Davies was still holding her phone but now had her eyes fixed on the federation liaison.

"One more," the liaison said loudly, bringing the room back to order.

A woman near the back holding a notebook and accreditation from a skating specialist publication stood up. She had the focused expression of someone who’d been covering the sport long enough to recognise not just when something significant had happened, but when to bide time to examine it. "For both of you: After this week, what comes next?"

Petra said: "Preparation for the Olympic qualification series."

Niamh pursed her lips: "I'm going to have dinner."

There was a moment of silence then, from several places in the room simultaneously, actual genuine laughter, in some part a release of the tightly coiled tension that had built with the last few questions.

Niamh felt Petra turn her head and looked back, and the expression on Petra's face was quite unlike anything she had a name for: a beautiful, understated jumble of surprise, amusement, question and invitation.

----

Thank you for reading! To be... concluded.

I stayed past midnight to let a lithography plate sit in the wash. The floor was completely empty except for the hum of the ventilation exhaust and the smell of turpentine lingering over the drying racks.

He was working on his senior illustration thesis on the drafting tables near the back. We had spoken maybe three times all semester, but when he walked over to check why the press was still running, he stood close enough that I could feel the cold air on his jacket from outside. I had soot and compressed charcoal smeared across my wrist under my oversized cardigan. He pulled my sleeve back to wipe it off with a rag, then didn't let go.

He slid his hands under my cardigan, fingers tracing the silk lacing of my choker before pushing my clothes aside. He lifted me straight onto the edge of the glass light table, pushing my tracing paper into a messy pile. My thigh-highs were freezing against the metal frame until he parted my legs and pressed himself between them.

The light table cast our shadows directly onto the back concrete wall. It was fast, heavy, and completely quiet while he held my neck firm to keep me from making a sound that would echo down the hall.

When he stepped back, he left his silver zippo lighter right on my sketchbook page. I walked back to my dorm room at 3:00 AM, leaving my charcoal pencils scattered across the palette. The lighter is sitting on my desk right now next to my drawing tablet. I haven't picked up my sketchbook since.

My boyfriend and I had been planning a trip to Udaipur for a long time. Once we had a huge fight about it. My priorities were very clear that while earning I wanted to explore the world. He wanted exactly the opposite - save money as much as he can. 

One fine day reluctantly he agreed. I promised him that he will love this trip. We booked flights and hotels. We, mostly I, did the shopping. He showed no interest in shopping. Wherever we went he stayed aloof and I did shopping. When asked, his only response was he had enough clothes to wear. How could I make him understand that aesthetics mattered too? I wanted the best photographs of us which will remain forever in our memories. I gave in and shopped for myself.

A month later, the day finally arrived. We boarded for Udaipur early in the morning. I was very excited. Aman had also quite made his mind till then. For him, the only motivation to visit the city was bhang (cannabis), for which it was famous. And, of course, there was the prospect of lots of sex in premium hotels.

We arrived in the afternoon. After reaching the hotel I decided to take a rest and explore the streets of Udaipur in the evening. Aman had already made calls even before we landed in Udaipur. He went to the reception to collect bhang while I lay in bed and kept scrolling about the best places to visit nearby. 

Suddenly the door bell rang. I opened the door without hesitation thinking Aman had come back. It wasn't him. A young boy in his early 20s, well-built, neatly combed was standing in front of me. He greeted me with a wide smile. "Hello ma'am, Myself Pritam. I am a service boy at this hotel." I was wearing recently purchased sensual shorts and my figure definitely made him uncomfortable. He nervously looked away at the towels in his hands. He had come to deliver them. I smiled back and took those towels. "Have a great day, ma'am" He tried saying it looking in my eyes but his eyes betrayed him. He gazed at my breasts before turning around.  

As I was tired due to the journey, I dozed off in a minute. About an hour later, I opened the door for Aman. He had come up with bhang and half a litre of milk. He was childlike in his excitement as he started preparing the drinks for both of us. I always hated his habit of making me part his plan without asking me. I warned him not to take it now as we were about to explore the street but he gave an excuse saying this wouldn't have any effect on him.

Albeit, I was happy that he was enjoying the trip. I just wanted him by my side. Always. 

Later I went for a bath. When I came back I saw the other glass which he had prepared for me was also empty. Of course I wasn't going to drink it. But why on earth did he have to take such a high dose? I just ignored and let him be as he wanted. Soon, he started to behave abnormally as the drug started its effect. His speech became slurred, he forgot what he was saying in mid sentence. I was still sitting in a chair, while I got almost ready.

I was fully ready in black tank top and maroon skirt to go out but Aman did not even move an inch. He was losing touch with reality. Then he shifted to bed, sat there for 15 min more, said no word. His eyes turned red, in between he started complimenting me. When asked to come along, he requested me to go alone and wished to take a nap. Of course, it spoiled my whole mood. Before I could think of any other options, I heard Aman snoring. It made my blood boil. I cursed him in frustration.  

I called the reception to ask about how to roam around solo.

“Hello, reception?”

The man at the other end said, “Sir has gone for a snack break. This is Pritam, ma'am. How may I help you?”

Knowing him at the other end eased me. When I asked about visiting the market solo he clearly stated, "Ma'am, to be honest, it's not safe here to travel alone. Plus a lady like you.." he paused. And then continued "I mean... people around here are not good."

Somehow, his concern made me forget my frustration with Aman. For a moment, I forgot my planning. I softly asked him, "What do you mean by ‘lady like me’, Pritam?"

I could sense he took a deep breath, "Ma'am, you are a modern woman… and..."

"And?. (in a low subdued voice I repeated) Say it." Though he was weighing each word, weirdly I was getting seduced by him.

"And you will draw the attention of many." He said it and probably regretted it immediately.

"Then?" I asked.

"Once your husband wakes up, then only you go outside." He advised.

Husband? Him? Aman was not even proper boyfriend material. But I didn’t correct the service boy. Aman was not going to wake up till the next morning. I thought for a second. An idea hit me. Though the idea was born out of genuine need, I couldn't deny it had naughtiness in it.

"Will you come with me?” 

Do you have a bike?" I asked him straight away. 

He paused for a second or two. I let him take his time.

"Yes. I have a bike. We can go. But I  have to take permission from the hotel owner. Ma'am, the owner is a good man. He won't mind if I help hotel guests to visit the market."

“Oh great! Please take permission as soon as possible and let me know… Pritam.”

I waited for him to call back. But he didn't. Out of brewing frustration, I called. Again.

"Have you took his permission?"

"Yes ma'am, Pritam is waiting. Please come to the reception.” To my horror it was the owner himself.

I apologized him for my impatience and thanked him.

As we were staying on the first floor, I decided to walk down the stairs.I was humming a song and the ringing of my payal (ankle chain) added more melody to it. This joyful entrance of mine grabbed Pritam's attention who was sitting near reception. My heart skipped a bit when our eyes met. I tucked my hair behind my ear, smiled at him and started to come down more elegantly. He didn't even blink his eyes until I reached near him. 

“Where is the bike?” I asked with a sweet smile.

“Bike…?” He went totally blank.

“Yes, bike!” I said with a smug look.

“Yes, bike… this way, please.”

Until we reached the parking place, he kept a considerable distance from me. He said nothing. He tried starting the bike with the kick but he failed multiple times. He looked at me and gave a fake smile. I enjoyed the show. At last he succeeded. I placed my hand on his shoulder and sat sideways across the seat as I was wearing the skirt. 

Throughout the ride, my right side kept rubbing against his back. He remained silent and slowly drove the bike. The market street was beautifully lit and bustling with crowds.  At the market I tried earrings, bangles, necklaces and what not. Whenever I asked whether the item looked good on me, he shyly smiled and said, “Everything looks good on you, ma'am”. He also gave suggestions for me to try. I purchased a few items. He kept the bag to himself so that I could roam around freely. Later, while coming back, we ate ice cream at a locally famous shop that he knew. There I caught him stealing glances at me. The coldness of the ice cream made my lips look even more appealing; it definitely seemed to stir something within him.

Around dinner time, we reached the hotel. I tried waking up Aman, but he was in no mood to get up. After a long time of struggle, I succeeded. He was still hungover and was completely static, literally!

No sooner had I freshened up and put on the shorts that I had worn that morning than Pritam came. He had come to serve dinner. But this time, something had changed. The shyness was still there, but it was mixed with a new confidence. He checked me out from top to bottom in the presence of Aman.

"Brothers... what solid stuff you guys provide! Thanks a lot" Aman spoke with a thick slur.

After dinner, when I was having the dessert, gulab jamun (a sweet dish made from milk), I found a note saying, "Just for you, ma’am."

I hid the note immediately under the plate. Later, I kept thinking why I did that. Where will this lead us exactly?

[This is chapter 1 of a long series, so read it accordingly]

The keys bit into his palm as he stood on the cracked rooftop, watching the city disappear into dusk. Below, traffic hissed over the damp roads, horns cutting through the noise. Somewhere three streets away, a woman was shouting about money. The smell of frying oil drifted up from the shops, mixing with wet concrete and the sour rot rising from the drains.

He shifted his weight off his bad leg. The old injury had started aching again, a dull pulse beneath the skin. Across the street, one light was still burning in a lower window.

He kept his eyes on it.

Three days ago, he had slipped unpaid notices under every door that owed him money. He had expected someone to come knocking. Instead, the building had stayed silent. Not even a single call, let alone any payments.

His fingers tightened around the keys. The light in the window stayed on.

He turned and started down the stairs.

The stairwell was narrow, the paint peeling away in long grey strips. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, leaving parts of the stairs in shadow. Cooking spices and cigarette smoke hung in the air, mixed with the damp smell of mildew. A child's bicycle lay across the second landing, its front wheel bent against the wall. Beside it, a black trash bag leaked onto the floor. He stepped around the puddle without looking too closely.

A woman laughed behind the door of 3B. The sound was loud and sudden, but stopped as soon as his foot landed on the next step. He slowed.

Nothing.

The doors stayed closed. He could feel people behind them, listening, waiting for him to pass.

He reached the second floor and stopped outside 2A. He raised his hand and knocked once, firmly.

The door opened halfway. A heavy-set man stood behind it in a stained white undershirt, his phone still in one hand. Music thumped from somewhere inside, bass-heavy enough to make the thin walls vibrate. A woman sat on the couch behind him with her arms crossed, watching him with a hard expression.

"Rent," he said. His voice stayed low and steady. "You're three months behind. The total's on the notice."

The man looked him up and down. Then he gave a short laugh.

"Old owner never gave a fuck. Why should we start now, kid?"

The woman leaned forward slightly. "Go back wherever you came from. This building doesn't need a boy landlord playing house."

He said nothing. He held up the notice, then opened the ledger to the page with their name on it. The numbers were clear in black ink.

The man glanced at them. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then the door slammed shut.

The lock clicked into place on the other side.

He stood outside 2A for a few seconds, his jaw tight and the keys still pressed into his palm. Then he slipped them back into his pocket and moved to the next door.

The older woman in 2B opened it only a few inches at first, the chain still hooked. When she saw his face, she looked down the hallway before taking the chain off and letting the door open.

"I paid," she said softly. "Always have. First of every month."

She disappeared inside for a moment and came back with an envelope. The cash was counted twice before she handed it to him. He counted it again, then wrote the amount in the small black notebook he carried in his back pocket.

The woman stayed by the door.

"There's noise at night," she said. "Sometimes the water stops for hours. And the common areas…" She glanced toward the stairs. "People leave whatever they want there."

She hesitated, rubbing her thumb along the edge of the door.

"And the ones who don't pay," she added quietly, "they act like they own the place."

She looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide whether he was going to be any different.

"I'll handle it," he said.

She seemed relieved, but only for a moment. Then she gave him a small, uncertain nod and closed the door.

There were two more doors on the ground floor.

No one answered the first. He could hear a man and a woman arguing inside, their voices sharp enough to carry through the wood. The moment his knuckles touched the door, they stopped. He waited, but nothing moved on the other side. After a few seconds, he crouched and pushed another notice through the gap.

At the last unit, a young woman opened the door with her phone already raised. The camera was pointed straight at him.

"Leave a message like everyone else," she said. "Don't come knocking."

He stayed where he was.

She raised her voice. "He's harassing me. The landlord is harassing tenants again."

Two doors farther down opened a few inches. Someone looked out. Another voice whispered from inside an apartment.

He took one step back, pulled out his own phone, and started recording. He said nothing. He held the camera on her, the open doorway, and the time on the screen for a few seconds before putting the phone away.

Then he walked back toward the stairs.

By the time he reached the rooftop, it was fully dark.

His apartment was barely furnished. A mattress lay on the floor beside a single wooden chair. On a crate near the wall sat a stack of old school photographs, all turned face-down. He had stopped looking at them a long time ago. A half-empty bottle of painkillers stood on the windowsill.

He lowered himself onto the chair and stretched out his bad leg. The ache had deepened while he was downstairs, pulsing slowly through the joint.

After a moment, he reached for the ledger and opened it across his knees.

The ledger was worse than he remembered. Page after page was filled with red ink: names, amounts, and dates that seemed to move further into the past every time he looked at them. He turned to the final page and found it completely blank. He left it open on the table while he sat there, staring at it.

For a moment, memories pushed their way back in. He saw the polished corridors of the elite school he had once attended, the courtroom where the people responsible had walked away untouched, and the hospital bed beneath the harsh white lights. He could almost smell the antiseptic and blood again. He closed his eyes and forced the memories back down. He had the building to deal with first. Everything else could wait.

Sleep never came. He lay in the dark with his cracked phone in one hand, scrolling without much interest until the algorithm pushed a small channel onto his screen. The videos had almost no subscribers and plain black-and-white titles: "*Stop being a pussy and get whatever you want." "If you wait for the right moment, you will get nothing." *He nearly scrolled past them, but something about the titles made him stop.

The voice in the first video was calm and almost boring. There was no shouting, no music, and no attempt to make the advice sound impressive. The speaker talked about assets, documentation, and leverage. He explained why confronting someone with more power usually accomplished nothing, and why it was better to build something the other person needed without making them realize how dependent they had become until it was too late.

He watched the entire video. Then he watched another.

By the time the third one ended, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, the phone resting in his hand. The ideas were simple, but they fit the problem in front of him. Keep records. Build leverage. Make yourself useful before you try to make yourself feared. He bookmarked the channel and lowered the phone. The screen briefly lit his face before going dark again.

A heavy knock came from the rooftop door. He looked toward it, listening as another knock struck the thin wood hard enough to rattle the frame. He picked up the notebook from beside him and crossed the small room, then opened the door.

The man from 2A stood in the hallway with two other men behind him. The light above them stretched their shadows across the floor and up the wall. One of the men held a metal pipe loosely at his side, almost casually, as if he had carried it upstairs without giving it much thought.

The man from 2A looked past him into the apartment before smiling. "We need to talk about the rent," he said. His eyes returned to him. "And about you staying the fuck out of our business."

His injured leg throbbed beneath him, but he kept his weight where it was. Behind him, the ledger remained open on the table, the blank page waiting under the dim light.

He didn't step back.

Lin’s parents had set up a bunk for me next to Lin’s bed. I messed it up before we came downstairs so they wouldn't realize I'd actually slept in Lin's bed with her.

These people did not need the additional confusion of wondering if their daughter was a lesbian.

Leah had somehow snuck pajamas into my bag. I normally slept naked, but when breakfast was called at seven in the fucking morning, I finally understood why.

I was reasonably fine.

Lin was very much not.

She was spectacularly hungover.

Breakfast smelled amazing. A New York breakfast was a bagel and coffee. This was eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns and toast, with a pot of coffee already sitting on the table. 

I was all smiles that morning. “Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer, this is too much. Some toast and jam is all I expected.” 

Lin’s dad laughed. “Oh no, big day today. Need to bulk up.” 

I shot him a smile. “Oh well, if you insist.” I started filling my plate.

Lin groaned and poured herself a huge cup of coffee.

“Lin had a tiny bit to drink while we were exploring town yesterday,” I explained. “She'll be all right.”

Lin looked at me over her coffee.

I smiled innocently.

Lin’s mother looked from Lin to me.

“Oh, I think she might have had a bit more than a little. But she’s a big girl. She can handle a hangover like one.”

Lin sank a little lower over her coffee.

Apparently parental radar still worked across state lines.

Lin’s dad gave me the outline for the day.

The wedding “opened,” as he put it, at ten, with the actual vows at eleven. They were doing the ceremony at the venue rather than a church. Shelly was agnostic and apparently that decision had been a whole thing.

The reception started at noon, with photos, drinks, congratulations, and general milling around until four. Then came a three-hour dinner with speeches and five courses.

After that, the band kicked off and the party went until dawn.

Jesus. Midwesterners took weddings seriously.

“Five courses?” I asked.

Lin’s mother shook her head. Clearly, this was a topic she'd discussed at length.

“Shelly’s a foodie,” Lin’s dad explained. “Apparently chicken, potatoes and wedding cake weren't going to cut it.”

After breakfast, we went to do our makeup and get dressed.

I had picked up a few tricks from Leah over our time together, and I could put my face on without much effort now. This was the first time Lin had watched me do it, and she seemed impressed by how much I'd picked up from Leah.

“I'm still not as good as her, and I suspect I never will be. But I know enough now to show up to a party.”

“You feel up to doing me? I'm still a bit hungover, and I'd love to just sit still for a while.”

I told her to sit on the toilet and wait. I'd do her after I was done with myself. I had on my button-up pajamas because, according to Leah, “something that does not go over your head” was important when putting on makeup.

I pointed at Lin's T-shirt.

“Can you put on something that opens from the front?”

She looked up at me, pulled off her T-shirt, and leaned back against the toilet topless.

“Or that works.”

I finished up my own makeup in around thirty minutes, then spent about the same amount of time on Lin. Her tits barely distracted me at all.

I went and pulled out my wedding-day outfit. It was in a black cloth bag. I already knew what was inside: a deep burgundy wrap dress with a low V-neck, short sleeves, a tied waist, and a long, loose skirt that fell below my knees. Leah had called it “formal enough for the wedding, relaxed enough for Iowa, flattering without looking like you're trying to fuck the groom.” 

It had a note inside.

Use with A, C, and optionally X and Y.

I looked through the accessory bag. Inside were several smaller plastic bags, each with a letter sticker on it.

A was a gold bracelet. If I looked closely, it had some sort of pattern worked into the metal, but from a distance it looked mostly plain.

C was a pair of earrings. Leah knew I didn't have my ears pierced and had told me I should get it done, but since I hadn't, she'd packed gold clip-ons. They matched the bracelet. No surprise there.

X was a bit of a surprise, though. It was Leah’s metal teardrop-shaped plug and a tiny travel-size tube of lube. Good thing I'd checked the bag instead of taking it in my carry-on.

There was another note inside.

If you need to feel me close today.

I smiled. Leah was always walking the line between flirting and being genuinely considerate. 

The bag labeled Y contained a narrow black choker with a small metal ring at the front and a clasp at the back. There was also a sealed envelope.

Mia, give this to Lillian.

I desperately wanted to open it, but I knew Leah would disapprove, so I handed Lin the envelope and the collar.

Lin opened the envelope and smiled as she read the letter inside. She looked down at the collar and walked over to me.

“You're wearing this today, okay? And you're listening to me, not the other way around. Okay?”

Apparently some sort of agreement had occurred between Lin and Leah that I wasn't privy to, despite clearly involving me.

I got dressed, then excused myself to the bathroom to put the plug in. My underwear didn't really fit right with it. The string kept sliding to one side and rubbing against me. After fighting with it for a minute, I decided to go commando rather than take the plug out. 

I went back to Lin’s room and found her finishing up her outfit.

Once completed, Lin picked up the collar.

“Turn around.”

I did.

She fastened it around my neck.

I checked the time.

“Twenty-five minutes ahead of schedule. Nice.”

Lin looked at me. “We have a schedule?”

“I planned two hours for dressing and makeup. We did it in ninety-five minutes. Very good time.”

“Did Leah train you on this?”

“What do you mean?”

She waved a hand in a forget-about-it gesture and headed downstairs.

Lin’s parents had cleaned up well. Her mother wore a nice sundress, and her father had on a white shirt and tie. They both showered their daughter with praise when she came downstairs, saying how beautiful she was and how she was definitely gonna turn heads today.

When I came down, there was a moment of stunned silence. Her mother seemed at a loss for words, but her father managed, “That is a very nice dress, Mia, and you wear it well.”

I gave them a little curtsy and joined Lin in the kitchen.

“Is my outfit a bit much? It looks simple enough.” 

Lin gave me a once-over and shook her head. “Nah, it’s nothing compared to your gala outfit. It’s just really well put together. I knew I could trust Leah on this.” 

Lin handed me a Coke from the fridge, and I drank deeply. The heat was already building outside, and it looked like it was going to be a very warm day.

Who would have though that it would be this warm in the middle of September? Global Warming for you.

Before we left, I checked Leah's suitcase one last time. The evening outfit was still packed away with its accessories, ready for after dinner. I transferred everything I'd need into a smaller bag and brought it downstairs.

Lin's mom was driving us all, which saved me from another adventure in Midwestern motoring. 

We loaded everything into the car, squeezed ourselves in, and headed for the venue.

About twenty minutes later, we arrived.

It was a converted barn venue, with wedding decorations everywhere. Either they only did weddings here, or weddings made up enough of their business that nobody had bothered pretending otherwise.

Other guests had already arrived and were milling around on the lawn. A drinks station served iced tea and lemonade, and large parasols had been set up for shade.

I was already beginning to feel the heat and started making increasingly unsubtle suggestions that Lin and I investigate the cold drinks.

Once we had our drinks, I started asking Lin about people.

“Okay, weird glasses?”

“Second cousin. I don't remember his name.”

“Pink hair?”

“Shelly's friend. I think.”

I subtly shifted my eyes toward a large man standing near the barn.

“Beardy McBeard-Face?”

Lin followed my eyes.

“That's Uncle Rob.”

I kept going like that, careful not to point while somehow making it extremely obvious who I was talking about.

This continued until I spotted another woman arriving. She was around five-one, slim, with narrow shoulders and a small frame. She wore a very tight black minidress with long sleeves and a high neck.

I leaned toward Lin.

“Who's the woman trying to pick someone up at a funeral?”

Lin stopped halfway through a sip.

“That's Anna.”

Oh.

Anna.

I looked back at her.
Suddenly the dress seemed considerably more annoying.

“I want to kill her,” I said.

“Whoa there, John Wick. We’re not killing anyone today.”

“Fine. But I can talk to her, right?”

“Not about what I told you.” Lin’s smile faded. “That was ten years ago. She might be a different person now. Don’t let my teenage trauma drive you today, okay?”

I took a deep breath, touched my choker with one finger, and looked back at Lin.

“No killing, then. And no bringing up your relationship with her.”

“I should have asked Leah for a collar earlier. This is great.”

She walked away from me, calling out, “Shelly! I haven't seen you in ages. You look amazing!”

I finished my tea, glanced at the time, and decided I could fit in one more lemonade before the ceremony started.

I went over to the bar and ordered another. Anna was standing there. I reminded myself of my promise and didn't engage.

“Are you friends with Lillian?”

The question came from beside me. I looked over. Anna had moved closer.

In my heels, I had a good nine inches on her. She looked small. Annoying.

She was staring up at me like I was the most interesting thing she'd seen all day.

“Oh yes, she's one of my best friends. You two know each other?”

She smiled, clearly pleased she'd managed to start a conversation.

“Yes, we used to hang out all the time in high school. She was a trusted companion of mine, but we drifted apart after that.”

Trusted companion.

That was certainly one way of describing blackmailing someone into doing your homework while making them watch you fuck your boyfriend.

I touched the collar.

Behave.

“So, you know the bride or groom?”

She laughed and touched my arm, as if I'd made some kind of joke.

“Both, actually. They were high school sweethearts. I'm related to the groom, though. Third cousin, I think.”

Was Anna flirting with me, or trying to steal me away from Lin? I wasn't sure which was more insane.

“You bring a plus-one?” I asked, glancing around.

She shook her head. “No, my fiancé is busy and couldn't make it. He works for a very important company, in a very important role.”

Well, if I couldn't kill her, I could mess with her.

Never promised I wouldn't.

“Oh, that's a shame. So you're here all alone?”

I touched her shoulder sympathetically.

“Yes, I'm afraid so. But I know most of these people, so I won't be lonely.”

I smiled at her. “Well, if you're interested in new conversations rather than rehashing old stories with friends, feel free to seek me out.”

I turned and walked back toward Lin, making sure to swing my hips the way Leah had taught me when we practiced walking in heels.

A big part of the seduction of heels is the hip swing.

I could practically hear Leah saying it in my head.

A few minutes later, a bell rang, and a man in a black vest and bow tie called everyone in for the ceremony.

We were escorted into the remodeled barn, which thankfully had air conditioning. Rows of chairs faced a flower-covered arch at the front.

We were told to sit on the bride's side. As Anna walked past toward the groom's side, I caught her looking at me. After she sat down, she glanced over a few more times before finally settling.

What the hell was up with this woman?!

I bit my lip and decided not to mention any of my interactions with Anna to Lin. I didn't need any more restrictions on what I could do with her. If anything, Anna had me intrigued now. What the hell was she fumbling around trying to do?

The music started, and everyone turned their attention to the bride walking down the center aisle.

I mostly ignored the vows and instead praised the invention of air conditioning. After about thirty minutes, we were told to rise and celebrate with the newlyweds.

As we left the air-conditioned barn, I went looking for more drinks that contained ice. Leah's rule was to always carry a drink. It kept your hands busy and gave you something to do if you felt too static. 

I did a round with Lin and met various uncles and aunts. I was introduced as her best friend and roommate, and whenever someone asked an awkward question about what she was doing in New York, I slipped in with some well-crafted, Leah-like embellishments.

“Oh, Lin is setting herself up with a good baseline for some interesting career choices once she's done. Humanities sounds less practical than it actually is. The degree translates into a surprisingly wide range of careers, especially once you get a few years out of university.”

Lin didn't stop me or tell me off, so I took that as permission to keep doing it. 

I excused myself and headed to the bathrooms. With all the drinking I was doing, I figured knowing where they were was going to be important.

When I came out, Anna was waiting for me.

I gave her a questioning look. “Were you waiting for me?”

“I was in there before you. I saw you walk in and wanted to chat some more, so I waited until you were done.”

She looked down at her feet, as if she'd said too much or admitted to something she wasn't sure she should have.

“Well, you've cornered me now. Want to grab a drink and find a quiet spot?”

We went to the bar. It was getting close to one, so I decided alcohol was on the table, although I was staying away from anything strong.

I remembered Leah's rule for drinking when I wanted to stay pleasantly buzzed without getting properly drunk: one weak beer or cider, around three percent, every forty-five minutes at most, and at least the same amount of something non-alcoholic in between.

Food helped too, and we had a five-course dinner coming.

Easy enough.

I ordered an apple cider. I thought I might be a cider woman now.

I asked the bartender which of the finger foods was freshest. He gave me a slightly surprised look, then told me the salmon had been sitting out the longest, while the pâté on toasted rye was popular enough that they were already on the third tray.

I grabbed a small plate and took five of the pâté toasties for Anna and me to share.

Anna gave me a questioning look when I caught her eye.

“Something the matter, Anna?”

“Why did you ask if the salmon was bad?”

“I never said it was bad. It's almost certainly safe to eat. But the pâté is fresh. Don't you like your food fresh, Anna?”

She paused. “You can't just ask like that.”

“Sure I can. I just did.”

We found a spot under a tree with a bench built around its trunk. There was a cool breeze there too, so it immediately became my preferred location for the rest of the day.

As Anna sat down, she took a sip of her Voodoo Ranger Imperial IPA.

I checked the label. Nine percent.

Apparently she had not attended Leah's drinking seminar.

I started playing the who's who game with Anna, trying to tease out what she thought about different people. Maybe I could figure out what exactly she was trying to get from me.

I nodded toward a large man in a dress shirt who already had two buttons undone.

“Who's Buzzcut Lumberjack over there?”

“That's Jason. He was a year above me in high school, on the football team. He used to be so fucking hot.” She looked him over. “Still is, actually. God, I wanted him so badly back then.”

Okay. Will happily volunteer who she wants to fuck. Noted.

“Okay, who's that with him?”

“Sandra. She was quite the slut in high school. Guess they ended up together, or at least they're dating. I didn't really keep up with Sandra after high school. I moved to Des Moines and met my fiancé.”

“How long have you been engaged, Anna?”

“About six months. We've known each other for almost a year.”

I bit my tongue before asking if she was insane.

I already knew Anna was insane. I just needed to figure out what insane plan she had for me so I could ruin it.

“You must really be in love, then?”

“He's good-looking enough, and he earns six figures. He's not great in bed yet, but I'm teaching him. It'll be fine.”

How on earth was this woman dishing out this kind of information to someone she'd known for all of ten minutes?

I nodded. “Yeah... it's important to teach them. Make sure they're more than just a paycheck.”

She nodded emphatically. “I can't do anything about his size, so he needs to up his finger and mouth game. I call myself a reformed size queen.”

Some cider went down the wrong pipe, and I erupted into a very unprofessional coughing fit.

Anna looked over at me with concern.

“I'm okay. Just swallowed wrong.”

I nodded toward another man. “Tall guy in the red shirt?”

“Anthony? He played basketball in high school. Huge dick.”

I looked at her. “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, I fucked him once on a dare. I think he's the one who awakened the size queen in me. I tried to get him to do me again, but he had a girlfriend and wouldn't cheat.”

I took another sip and leaned back. This woman clearly had no barriers.

“So, you're only into guys, or do you date women too?”

She shrugged. “I've had some go down on me, but I've never dated a girl.”

I gave her a big smile, intending it to be flirty, although it felt very superficial.

“So you've never licked pussy?”

“No.”

She blushed.

This woman had just told me she'd gotten hooked on a big dick and begged for more, but this made her blush. Unbelievable.

“I've just never met anyone before that I could see myself doing that with.”

I caught the before.

I saw it now. This woman wanted me. Or maybe there was something about Lin having me that made her want me more. Whatever it was, Anna was trying to get under my dress.

Now that was not gonna happen.

I spent the afternoon with Anna like this, exploring what she'd done, who she'd done it with, what sexual boundaries, if any, she had, and generally getting it into her head that I might be interested but wasn't quite there yet. She just needed to convince me a little more before we could scissor it out.

I also asked her what her relationship with Lin had been like.

“Lin was so smart. She helped me with my homework. We ate lunch together every day, and she'd hang out with me and my boyfriend in the evenings. Lin never had any boyfriends, as far as I know, but she always kept her hands to herself. Never tried to fuck with mine.”

I was gonna fucking ruin this woman.

Once again, the bell rang. Dinner was about to be served. I thanked Anna for the afternoon and told her we could continue after dinner.

I'd had two ciders and a large iced tea. Anna had gone through three of her IPAs.

I caught her watching me as I left.

I had this woman hook, line, and sinker.

Now what the fuck was I going to do with her?

After finding Lin, I went inside and checked the seating plan.

We were at table five, Marigold. Flower theme. Yeah, that tracked.

I quickly scanned the other names at our table and spotted Anthony sitting next to Lin.

Big Dick Anthony.

Interesting.

I made my way over and used all my stealth and dexterity to swap my name card with Lin's.

Now I was sitting next to Big Dick Anthony.

A plan was forming.

Dinner was a lot of small plates interrupted by a lot of speeches and wine refills. I followed Leah's advice about wine and kept a glass of water next to it at all times.

Apparently Kalimotxo was the best way to water down your wine, but I wasn't gonna mix my red wine with Coke at this semi-fancy wedding. I suspected that would be blasphemy to the bride.

This was homemade wine and everything. Even the label was bespoke for our table.

Foodie indeed.

My conversation with Anthony was very enlightening, though. He had moved away after high school and was now working as a business analyst in Boston. He was currently single and had been for a few months after his last girlfriend cheated on him. He'd originally planned to bring her, so now he was stuck with two plane tickets and a double room.

I poked around a few other places and learned that his old girlfriend from back here was married, had a kid, and was working on a second one. 

Anthony seemed genuinely happy for her. They'd broken up because he'd left for school and she'd wanted to stay.

Amicable.

He pointed her out at another table, sitting with her husband and drinking only water.

I started asking about the different people I'd gotten names for, people Anthony should know. Jason, Lin, Shelly, then Anna casually before moving on to Sandra.

He gave me mostly sterile descriptions of everyone. General stuff, nothing particularly interesting. 

But when I mentioned Anna, he paused, smiled, and said she was a friend and a very fun person.

Fucking score.

After dinner, we got the car keys from Lin's parents, and I grabbed my evening outfit from the car. I went into the family bathroom, which had far more space than the regular ones, and with no kids at this party, I wasn't inconveniencing anyone.

I changed into a deep wine-red satin slip dress, midi-length, with a low cowl neckline, thin straps, and a high side slit. It reminded me a little of my evening gala dress, but more casual.

I gave Lin my old dress to pack away in the car, then continued getting ready.

Leah had packed a clutch to go with it, as well as a pair of strappy black heels, slightly taller than my daytime ones.

The B package went with this outfit. A small gold chain. I decided against it. The choker was enough around my neck.

I left X in place. Even with the high slit, I wasn't particularly worried about flashing anyone.

I checked my makeup and made sure everything else was in place.

When I exited the bathroom, I was excited to see what I could make Anna do.

She was at the bar, and people had started moving onto the dance floor. Lin returned from the car and gave me a once-over.

“Leah continues to impress. You look even more stunning than you did earlier. I'm glad you're coming home with me tonight. Letting you loose here, someone's bound to pounce.”

I smiled at her. “How are we actually getting home tonight? Are your parents staying until we decide to leave?”

“Nah, they're heading out in a bit. I'll call them for a pickup when we're ready to go home. Mam will drive. Her eyes are better at night.”

“That's very nice of her. I should've brought her a gift or something.”

Lin waved the comment away. “She's just happy I'm back for a bit, and she's very impressed with my friends. She couldn't stop talking about you.”

Lin's attention shifted as a new song came on.

“Oh, I'm gonna go dance. Go mingle with the non-dancers. I'll grab you when I want to leave.”

As she left, my eyes shifted toward Anna.

I walked up to the bar and ordered a French 75.

The bartender looked confused and reached for a cocktail book. I stopped him.

“I can show you, if you want?”

He shrugged and waved me behind the bar.

“Gin, lemon juice, simple syrup. Shake those with ice first, then strain and top with champagne.”

I talked him through it while I worked, measuring out the gin, lemon and syrup before shaking everything over ice.

“Don't put the champagne in the shaker. That would be exciting for all the wrong reasons.”

He laughed.

I strained the drinks into two glasses and topped them with champagne.

This was Leah's signature drink, and I'd slowly perfected making it for her.

When I looked back toward Anna, she'd been watching the entire performance.

I carried both glasses around to the front of the bar and held one out to her.

“Walk with me, Anna?”

She was looking at me, slightly dumbstruck. I wasn't sure whether it was the new dress or me teaching the bartender how to make a cocktail, but she quickly gathered her things, took the drink, and followed me.

“So, I was lucky enough to sit next to Anthony during dinner.”

She caught up with me. “Oh. Did he mention me?”

“No, but he remembers you fondly.” 

She smiled at that. 

We arrived at a table in a quiet corner with a good view of the entire barn.

Anna took a sip of her drink and looked down at the glass.

“Wow. This is really good.”

I nodded. “I know. It's not really my go-to, but it fits the occasion.”

My new heels gave me another half-inch over Anna, and she had to tilt her head just a little farther back to meet my eyes. 

She wasn't properly drunk, but she was much further along than I was.

“So, Anna. Would you want to fuck Anthony again?”

She looked nervous.

“I... don't know. He was... not who I was planning for.”

“What if I'm there too?”

She went quiet for a moment. I could practically see the gears turning.

“You'd be there with me?”

“I like to watch. It's sort of my thing. I'd really like it if you did this with me.”

She drew in a short breath. “Yeah. Yeah, if we can get Anthony on board, I'll do it for you.”

I smiled at her.

“You're just the best little girl there is, Anna.”

“Stay here,” I told Anna as I went hunting for Anthony.

I found him talking to a few other guys and nudged him in the side. When he saw me, surprise crossed his face.

“Mia? Did you change your outfit?”

I nodded for him to follow me a little way from the group. He did, without much hesitation.

“I got the impression at dinner that you might be up for something.”

He gave me a once-over. “Oh? I thought you and Lillian...”

I shook my head. “It's not like that. And it's Anna, not me. But I'll be there too. Is that something you can handle? Another person in the room?”

“Shit, Anna's still into that stuff? Last time I was with her, she wanted Lillian close by.”

I turned and looked over at Anna. She gave me a short, stupid little wave and smiled. I kept my eyes on her as I spoke to Anthony.

“Mm... she's weird that way. I'd take this as a treat before you head back to Boston. Get some relief after what happened with your ex. Might give you a whole new perspective on things.”

“You make an interesting pitch. Anything else I should know?”

“I might film some of it. Mostly her, and it's just for me, not for putting online. I'll try to keep you out of frame, but I can't promise. You okay with being on camera?”

“Sure. I've had plenty of girls film me before. Impress their friends, they say.”

“Oh, really?” I smiled. “Well, I can't wait to see.”

I gave Anna a wave and a thumbs-up.

She clapped.

...Clapped.

This woman was clapping because I was gonna get her fucked.

What a dumb bitch.

“Are you okay with doing it in your room? I'm staying with Lin and her parents.”

“Sure. I've got the space.”

“Excellent. Let's do it now. I don't know how long Lin wants to stay.”

We walked back to Anna together and told her to follow us. Anthony led us toward the guest rooms, opened the door to his room, and stepped inside. Anna followed him, then me. I closed the door behind us. 

The room was basically a small hotel room attached to the venue. A double bed dominated most of the space, with nightstands on either side and a small upholstered chair strategically positioned in the corner, because apparently every guest room was legally required to include a cuck chair.

The bathroom was surprisingly spacious, with a walk-in shower and a wide mirror stretching across the wall above the sink. Everything was clean, beige, and aggressively inoffensive.

I stepped behind Anna and unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor, leaving her standing there in her flats and underwear. I recognized the underwear. It was the kind that came in a pack of ten.

“You any good at sucking cock, Anna? Can you show me?”

She nodded and went over to Anthony, reaching for his clothes. She fumbled with the buttons and zipper enough that he eventually got impatient and took over.

When his pants dropped, I realized Anna had not been underselling this guy.

This was the kind of dick I'd only seen in porn. It was absurdly large, thick and veiny, pulsing in Anna's hand.

I sat down in the cuck chair, got my phone out, and started filming.

After a few minutes, Anthony was harder, but still not quite where I thought he could get, so I went over to Anna and grabbed her hair.

“Open your mouth and put your hands on his balls. Shaft is for your mouth, hands for balls and ass. Learn it.”

Anna nodded and adjusted her stance, forcing herself to take him deeper. She gagged and her eyes watered as she did.

I could see almost immediately that Anthony was enjoying himself much more after my instructions.

I moved behind Anthony to get a better shot of Anna from his perspective. I leaned in and whispered, “You should grab her head. Make sure she's getting the right rhythm for you.”

He smiled and threaded both hands into Anna's hair, taking hold.

The rhythm changed. Before, it had been entirely Anna controlling the movement. Now they were moving together, Anna following Anthony's rhythm.

A much better shot, if I did say so myself.

After a minute or so, Anthony pulled out of Anna's mouth, and she gasped for air. Her makeup was ruined. Black streaks ran down her cheeks, her lipstick was smeared, and her hair was a mess.

I felt a warm satisfaction building in my stomach.

This was everything I'd wanted.

I looked at Anthony. “Let’s continue in the bathroom. I like the mirror in there. Easier to see everything.”

He nodded, scooped Anna up like she weighed nothing, and carried her in. I followed, phone still rolling. He set her on her feet, yanked her underwear down, and left the cheap flats on. The bathroom was all beige tile and that big mirror over the sink. Perfect.

Anthony rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down her slit a couple of times, getting it shiny. She was already dripping like a broken faucet.

I made sure I got it on camera.

“You're doing great, Anna. Love the way you look. Are you ready?” 

She nodded and raised her ass, inviting him in. Anthony gave one long, heavy thrust and buried himself inside her.

Anna made a broken little noise and clawed at the edge of the sink. I stepped closer, still filming, and grabbed her jaw so she had to look at herself in the mirror. Ruined makeup, open mouth, eyes already going glassy.

“So,” I said, nice and casual, “you enjoying fucking someone who isn’t your fiancé?”

Her breath hitched. Anthony kept rolling his hips, slow and deep, not giving her a second to think.

“I…What? I don’t…”

I tightened my grip, my voice turning stern.

“Answer my questions.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Is his dick better than what you’re about to marry?”

She nodded against my hand.

“Say it.”

“It’s better. A lot better.”

“How is he better? Tell me, Anna.”

“He's so much bigger. He stretches me out. I feel so full. So owned.”

I smiled. “Good girl. Keep looking at yourself while you take it.”

I let go of her face and moved behind Anthony. “Spread her cheeks.” He placed one hand on each side and pulled them apart. She looked back at me, perhaps nervous, perhaps just wondering what we were doing.

I looked at her and spat at her asshole.

“You should put a thumb in there. Warm her up,” I told him. 

He pushed his thumb in without arguing. Anna’s whole body jerked.

I went back to Anna, stroked her hair, and asked,

“You on any sort of contraception, Anna?”

She let out a short breath. “No. Mark and I are trying for children. I was planning on pullout.” 

I shook my head “No, I don’t think that is a good enough way to prevent pregnancy. How do you feel about anal?”

She looked at me, horrified. “I don't think I can take Anthony. I've tried it once with a smaller guy, and it hurt.” 

I smiled at her, “I'd really love it if you tried it for me, though. Fight through the hurt. Show me what a good girl you can be.”

She swallowed, “Okay... for you, I guess I could try again.”

I went back to Anthony and gave him the travel-size tube of lube Leah had sent me.

He looked at me. “You sure about this?”

I gave him a solemn nod.

Anthony stopped moving and started applying lube to her ass. 

One finger, then two, then three, taking his time while he was still inside her. 

Anna seemed to get more comfortable as this went on. She still gave small grunts, but there were no tears or biting her arm. 

As he pulled out of her pussy, Anna gave a gasp, as if she had just lost a load-bearing structure in her body. 

Anthony started lubing up his dick and sliding it over her ass.

I lifted one of her legs onto the sink, spreading her stance wide and giving me a clear shot of her pussy and ass.

“Much better,” I said.

When he pushed his head inside, I heard Anna let out a gasp of pain. Her knuckles went white on the sink. She made this guttural, broken sound and still pushed back because I'd asked.

It took a while. Anthony was patient in that detached way big-dick guys get when they know they’re going to fit eventually. 

I kept the camera on her through all of it.

When he finally bottomed out, she was shaking, fresh tears cutting through the mascara.

I leaned in close. “How’s it feel?”

“Hurts,” she gasped. “It really hurts.”

“But it hurts good, right? You want to give this superior dick your ass because you’re a slut. Your holes are for him to use as he wants.”

Her eyes fluttered. “I… I want to give him my ass. I’m a slut. My holes are his to use.”

“Good.” I brushed a tear off her cheek with my thumb. “That’s exactly right.”

Anthony started moving properly, long, heavy strokes that rocked her whole body. She kept her foot up on the sink like I’d told her, taking every inch even though her face was pure strain.

After a while her voice came out thin. “I hope he cums soon. Please. It still hurts.”

I tilted my head like I was thinking it over.

“He hasn’t cum yet. So where else could he fuck you so he can finish?”

Her answer came small and immediate.  “Anywhere. All my holes are open.”

I gave her my mean little smile. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Then I kept going, soft and curious, the way you talk to a dog that’s almost house-trained.

“You told me earlier you’re not on anything. You and the fiancé are trying. Right?”

She made a tiny broken sound and nodded.

“So if he finishes in your cunt right now… are you ready to walk back to your little cuck fiancé pregnant? Carry some other guy’s kid and let him think it’s his?”

Anna’s face did something complicated. Uncertainty, heat, the desperate need to please me, all at once. After a couple of seconds she nodded again, harder.

“Yes. He’ll never know. I’ll… I’ll let him think it’s his.”

I petted her head, fingers gentle in the tangled hair.

“Good girl.”

I went back to Anthony and whispered in his ear.

“You good with doing this?”

He nodded and grunted, “Yes.”

“Okay, then. Flip her around.”

He easily flipped Anna around and set her on the counter, legs spread wide. He slipped out of her ass and started back in on her pussy.

I reached under my dress and hooked a finger around the base of the teardrop-shaped plug. 

I pulled it free with a slow twist. The sudden empty feeling made me bite the inside of my cheek.

I held the shiny, warm plug up in front of Anna’s face.

“Open up. Lick it clean.”

She opened her mouth and closed around the plug.

Good way to shut her up.

I moved back to Anthony.

“This woman is everything your slutty ex was. Make sure she feels it when you come.”

I used my nails on his butt cheek and he increased his pace, slamming into Anna at an increasingly hectic speed.

When he came, he let out a roar, like all his pent-up feelings from the last few months were finally being spent.

Anna froze as it happened, almost as if she were afraid to move.

When he was done, he drew himself out of Anna, and thick globs of cum dropped out of her as well.

“You really did fill her up. Good work.”

I gave Anthony a clap on the shoulder.

I went over to Anna, and removed my plug from her mouth and put it in my clutch.

“You did really well today. I am proud of you.” 

She looked up at me with starry eyes. 

“I did? You really liked it?”

“Oh, words cannot express how much I loved it. But now I must leave you. I have things to attend to.” 

She looked confused. “But you said we would fuck if I did this for you?” 

“I never said that. Are you sure I didn't just imply it? Let you believe I would?” 

“But... I was a good girl.”

“Yes, but being a good girl doesn't mean you deserve sex with me, Anna. I thought everyone understood that by now.”

I walked toward the door, making sure to swing my hips just like Leah had shown me. 

“But... you can't just leave me!” Anna shouted.

“Of course I can.”

I closed the door behind me.

I rejoined the party and found Lin dancing the night away. I decided to join her, in my still largely untrained fashion.

After a few minutes, she pulled me off the dance floor and sat down, sweaty and exhausted.

“Where have you been all night?”

I smiled. “Oh, just meeting all your old friends. Hearing stories.”

“Mia? Tell me the truth.”

I sighed.

Fuck. This was not the place for this conversation.

“I had a long conversation with Anna, and I might have... humiliated her.”

“Is she hurt?”

I paused for a little too long.

“No. She does not require medical attention.”

Lin stared at me. “That is a very specific answer.”

“Can we please talk about this at home? This is not exactly a private conversation.”

She gave me a very long look. “She's still alive, right? You promised.”

“When I left her, she was breathing and shouting vigorously.”

She kept staring at me, but eventually nodded. “Okay, but when we get back, I want the full breakdown.”

I didn't see Anna again that night. About two hours later, Lin decided the evening was over, and her mom came to pick us up.

When we got back to her room, Lin turned on me.

“Full story. Start to finish.”

I started with Anna approaching me at the bar, then ambushing me outside the bathroom. I explained the wild stories she'd told me and how I'd realized she was trying to “get me” one way or another.

I told Lin about Anna lusting after Anthony. At that, Lin commented that she'd been very thirsty for Anthony back in high school too.

Then I explained the setup with Anthony.

Finally, I handed Lin my phone and showed her the video.

I sat back on the bed and watched her watch it.

After the video ended, Lin looked over at me.

“This is fucked up, Mia.”

I closed my eyes. “I know, but... I hate Anna so much. First for what she did to you, then for what she tried to do with me, and for just being such a dumb cunt. She's human garbage, Lin.”

“That she is. But this video? It's fucking crazy. What were you planning to do with it?”

“I don't know. Revenge? Break up her engagement? I wanted you to have something because she'd had something like it of you. She had naked pictures of you, and now you have... this.”

“We're not gonna use this video to blackmail Anna, Mia. She's a garbage human, and maybe she deserves whatever she gets. But I think she'll ruin her own relationship without our help. It took you, what, six hours before she was begging for her fiancé to be a cuck? If you can do that in one afternoon, I can't possibly imagine them making it to the wedding.”

“So... I just delete the video?”

“No. I think it's best if you send it to me.”

“But not for blackmail?”

“No. You might have accidentally created the most powerful porn I've ever watched. It would be a waste to just delete it.”

“So you're just gonna use it to masturbate?”

“I'm allowed to masturbate to things!”

“You want to watch it again while I eat you out?”

“God, yes.”

Well.

At least one of my bad decisions had worked out.

Hunted - a tale consumed by desire and driven by lust as Kei goes from hotshot business man to prey aboard the evening shuttle home.

teaser chapter and more coming soon

This is Part Three of a four-part consensual erotic fiction series. In Part Two, she carried the unfinished feeling into the next morning and decided that ten minutes of edging was not enough, so she chose to extend it by five more minutes. Then she told the stranger that ten minutes would never be enough.

He did not agree or disagree with her choice or even tell her what to do next. When he asked who had told her to remain for fifteen minutes, she answered honestly. No one. His final response left the next decision entirely with her.

Part Three begins the following morning with one word still moving through her thoughts. Want. This time, adding just another minute may not be enough. If she truly wants to find her edge, she will have to decide what the next rule requires.

Part Three of Four

The next morning, she didn’t immediately reach for her phone. She stayed in bed a little longer, completely beneath the covers, and listened inside herself to the question his final word had left there. “Want.” It felt much different in the daylight. Less like being granted permission and more like a challenge to search within herself for the truth. Sixteen minutes would prove almost nothing to him. He would never be there to witness the struggle, feel her thighs tighten so firmly, or see the moment when discipline became almost unbearable. The only person who would ever know what she went through, and whether she remained in control, was the woman who had chosen the number.

She finally got out of bed and headed into the bathroom, carrying the thought with her. She placed the phone against the mirror, exactly where it had been the day before. When she opened the timer app, fifteen was still there waiting for her. Her slowly trembling finger hovered over the number, but instead of adding another minute, she returned to his post and opened their conversation. Without allowing herself time to reconsider, she typed a question.

“What if sixteen is not harder?”

Then she waited, with every minute feeling like an hour. After several minutes, his answer finally appeared.

“Then the number is no longer the edge.”

She read the sentence slowly several times. Part of her had expected him to tell her what came next, perhaps demanding twenty minutes or giving her a more severe rule that would remove the decision completely from her hands. Instead, he had placed the question directly back into them. His response frustrated her more completely than a command ever could. He seemed unwilling to become the authority she kept trying to place above herself, yet each refusal made her want his direction even more.

She found herself typing several different answers and erasing every one. Finally, she asked the question she had been avoiding all along.

“How do I find the edge?”

This time, his response took even longer. It almost felt as though he were waiting for her to search within herself before he answered.

“You already know where it is. Your edge begins when waiting is no longer enough, and you must keep control while giving your body more of what it wants.”

Her body reacted instantly before her mind finished considering the words he had written. She remembered the hand that had lifted from her thigh, the command that had escaped her mouth, and the single touch she had known could have ended everything. Sixteen minutes would only lengthen the waiting. If she truly wanted to discover what obedience meant to her, she would have to remain in control while allowing herself to come much closer to losing it.

She returned to the timer but left the number unchanged at fifteen minutes. Then she created a second rule beneath it, one he had never ordered her to accept.

Before starting, she would bring herself closer than she had ever allowed herself to go before. So close that her entire body would be trembling before she permitted herself to start the timer. Once it began, she could continue feeding the desire and drawing herself even nearer, but she could not allow its release in any form.

She stared at what she had written for what seemed like hours, until the danger inside the rule became unmistakable. This was no longer simply standing still and waiting for time to pass. She would have to remain at the edge while every part of her screamed to cross it. This time, any mistake would be real, and true failure would be possible.

Her trembling thumb returned to the conversation.

“I found it.”

His reply contained only three words.

“Did you choose it?”

She looked into the mirror before answering.

“Yes.”

“Then it belongs to you.”

The rule remained with her throughout the entire day, keeping her in a heightened state of arousal. Unlike the fifteen minutes waiting silently on her phone, this rule seemed to follow her deep inside her body, accompanied by what felt like an endless stream of wetness.

Every time even the thought of beginning entered her mind, she felt her heart begin to race as her body responded to what would be required before the timer started. She would now have to deliberately create the very urgency she had previously struggled to resist. Then, instead of escaping from it or holding herself safely away from her own touch, she would have to continue the stimulation, keeping herself close enough to feel the threat of failure during every passing second.

By the time evening arrived, anticipation had already begun doing much of the stimulating for her. She entered the bathroom and turned the lock with a sound that seemed to strike through her like a sonic boom. She immediately placed the phone in its familiar position against the mirror. For several seconds, she simply studied the reflection of the woman standing before her. Her breathing was already shallow, her nipples ached as they tightened visibly beneath her clothing, and the warmth that had remained between her thighs all day had begun increasing in intensity. Everything her body had carried since morning made fifteen minutes seem far more dangerous than it had when she first decided what she needed to do.

She slowly began to undress without looking away from her reflection for even a second. This time, she would not immediately place her hands against her thighs and start the timer. That rule was gone for good. The new rule required something very different for her to obey. She allowed her fingers to explore the places that had been demanding attention all day, beginning slowly and carefully, almost cautiously, as though her body might recognize how close she intended to take it and begin racing there before she was ready.

The first waves came more slowly than she expected. She closed her eyes as one moved through her body, then immediately opened them again, refusing to disappear into the sensation. Watching herself closely mattered. She wanted to see every change she was creating, every tremble that passed through her legs, and every moment when pleasure began weakening her control. She continued standing until remaining upright required effort. When she finally reached what she wanted to call the edge, she reached toward the timer, already knowing that she had stopped too soon.

The realization embarrassed her deeply. She had written that her body must be fully trembling before she began, yet some cautious part of her had tried to redefine trembling into something easier. Nobody else would have known what she had done. She could have simply pressed start, completed the fifteen minutes, and reported another success. Instead, she heard the voice that had first broken the bathroom’s silence the day before.

“No.”

This time, she didn’t need to shout it. The word moved quietly through her lips, but its true force came from somewhere deeper within her thoughts. Her body obeyed immediately. Her hand withdrew from the phone and returned to the unfinished task.

She continued more deliberately now, refusing to retreat whenever the pressure became frightening. Her thighs began to shake uncontrollably. Her breathing broke into small, uneven sounds she could no longer silence. Each time she believed she had reached the required point, she forced herself to wait and listen for the deeper certainty beneath it. The edge was not where pleasure merely became intense. It was where the next moment seemed impossible, yet some part of her not only wanted to risk it but needed to risk it.

When that moment finally arrived, her entire body tightened. She froze with one hand pressed against the sink and the other suspended against the source of everything she was struggling to contain. Release hovered so close that even moving toward the phone seemed capable of pulling her over the edge.

She looked at the timer against the mirror and realized that the fifteen minutes had not even begun.

Soon she found herself frozen for several seconds, barely even trusting herself just to breathe. She didn’t even want to move because the smallest shift would send another dangerous wave to roll through her body. She also knew that beginning the timer now would require her to move the hand that was bracing her against the sink. The fifteen minutes still waited on the screen, with a very calm indifference that did not care whether she would succeed or not.

She knew that she could not stay in that awkward state forever, so she slowly began to reach for the phone. With complete focus on what was important to her, she made sure that her other hand remained exactly where it was, continuing the stimulation that her rule had demanded. Her trembling finger missed the start button the first time. That mistake forced a nervous breath from her lips, almost a giggle, but the sound did not quite come out because another strong wave tightened deep inside her at that moment, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It took her almost a minute to steady herself enough to find the button again and press start.

Fourteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds remained.

This was the moment she had feared most. Before it, every part of the exercise had allowed her to survive by refusing to move. She soon realized that stillness had been difficult, but it had also been the place that protected her. Now everything was different. Every continuing movement of her stimulating hand carried her closer to the ending she had forbidden. Her hand was not permitted to withdraw, yet she could not allow her body to go over the edge. She had to find the narrow space between continuing and finishing. She remained deep inside it while the seconds moved far too slowly.

During the first minute, she thought she had found the balance she needed to ride it out until the end. Her fingers moved with careful restraint while her gaze almost refused to blink. Then she had to deal with the waves. Whenever the pressure climbed too quickly, she changed the rhythm without stopping. Whenever it began to fade, she slowly increased the pressure and drew it upward again. It took all her attention to maintain the rhythm as everything outside the bathroom seemed to disappear completely.

By the time the third minute arrived, maintaining that balance had become increasingly difficult. Her body had begun learning the pattern and responding long before she had a chance to adjust it. The idea that she could create a perfect balance became a fantasy because every small movement reached deeper than the one before. Her thighs now shook harder, forcing her to widen her stance so that her knees would not buckle beneath her. Watching herself in the mirror only increased the intensity as a sudden jolt spread across her chest and her nipples tightened even further. With her knees bent and her legs spread to support herself, she felt far more exposed. Yet the exposure and vulnerability gave her strength, making the thought of stopping less tempting.

As the tile beneath her grew wetter and the trembling reached deeper into her body, the timer continued counting. The eleven minutes remaining seemed like an eternity.

Within the deepest heat and the longest stare, she kept reminding herself that she had created the rule and could end it whenever she chose. Nobody would ever accuse her of failure. Nobody would even know that the timer had started. The thought should have comforted her, but instead it revealed the question waiting beneath everything she was doing.

“If I stopped now, which version of myself would I be protecting?”

Her growing sensitivity made every movement more difficult to control. Her fingers faltered for a second. Then, without warning, they put her under more pressure than she intended. Her breath caught sharply, and the reflection before her blurred as anticipated pleasure surged through her entire body. She tried to slow the movement, but her body followed it with a powerful tightening that seemed to draw her firmly against her own hand.

“No,” she whispered.

This time, the word did not immediately restore the control she had possessed only seconds earlier.

Her hips moved again without permission, pressing even harder against her waiting hand. The second motion was smaller than the first, almost invisible in the mirror, yet it frightened her more than any deliberate touch ever could. She had believed obedience meant controlling the movements of her hands, but now she understood that her hands were only the beginning of this level of discipline. Every part of her body had entered the argument.

Nine minutes remained.

She stared at the number while the pressure continued rising. She began watching her hand in the mirror, seeing it obey the rule by never allowing the stimulation to stop. She had not deliberately permitted any release. Yet something deeper inside her had begun moving independently of either decision. She was beginning to realize that the edge was no longer a place she was approaching.

It was now holding her firmly.

 

She had created the next rule entirely on her own, believing that obedience meant keeping her hands under control. This time, with nine minutes still remaining, she began to realize that her hands were only one part of the struggle going on inside her. Soon, her entire body entered the argument, and the edge was no longer somewhere ahead of her.

It was holding her firmly.

Part Four begins when she learns that failure is no longer merely possible. It is already taking full control of her body. She thinks that if she loses control, no one will witness it, and the stranger may never know anything about it. What now matters to her is not whether she fails, but what she chooses to do with the truth afterward.

Friday night, early fall. The promise of a generous amount of rain had been kept now. The cold had finally been allowed to nest next to our bones, next to our trembling, strange notions of this season.

Clara was driving and I sat in the back, watching her in the rearview mirror as if through stained glass. She looked a bit like a weary rag doll, made of patches of the highway lights and the car dashboard lights… all of this enhanced the acute angles of her slightly sunken and pale face, her narrow nose and thin lips, and also made her gaze seem more hypnotized, locked on the road.

Despite the heavy rain and the frantic wipers, she was driving the way she always did, with only her right hand on the wheel, and with the other arm resting against the window, and sometimes she laid her head on it.

We'd be home in a little over thirty minutes. At that hour, on that road which crosses the industrial zone on the edge of the city, other cars rarely passed us. I remember one with only one headlight, looking like it'd fall apart any second. Still, it overtook us and vanished into the night, which was trying to dissolve everything around us, from the skinny bare trees, to the dark hills like terrifying bulges of the earth, and the barbed wire fences, and the abandoned factories.

Beside me, Irene took off her coat right after Clara turned the heat up. Then she adjusted her tight skirt, slid a hand inside it and I could hear her nails scrape against her pantyhose.

She nodded at me and put her hands on her lap, as if telling me, come. I took off my seatbelt and rested my head on her legs. Irene pressed her face against the window and started running her fingers lightly through my hair, lingering on the nape of my neck, where the barber had trimmed my hair not long ago.

I could still taste the popcorn and the Coke, the little sharp pieces of corn stuck between my teeth, and a faint trace of chocolate, Cadbury Dairy Milk.

There was no music playing, no podcast, no radio, only the mechanical sound of the wipers, with some squeaks in between, and of course the rain falling on the windshield and on the roof of the car.

With my nose pressed against Irene's skirt, I could smell her strong perfume, mixed with the Marlboro Reds, a smell that matched her age. Maybe this combination of smells was far more common on a woman her age a decade or two ago. Still, it suited her. Underneath all that, you could also distinguish a slight scent of peach body lotion.

If I didn't know her, I'd say she definitely had some corny, new age, faded tattoo on her thigh, something she'd got more than twenty years ago after a few drinks at a party. I can't exactly tell you why, but a lot of people would have bet it was there. Maybe not on the thigh, but on her lower back, shoulder or ankle. She didn’t have any of that, though. Neither did she have piercings. She only wore big, showy golden earrings.

Clara always wore the same pair of pearl earrings, small, same with the chains, always thin silver links, elegant. Her sweet, soft perfume matched that style. She usually wore tight black jeans, and black Converse or Vans, both pretty beat up. And she'd just put on a white or light pink baby tee, sometimes an ordinary white or black top tucked into her jeans. She also didn’t have any ink, though we once stayed up late talking about the best idea and design for her first tattoo.

As we were leaving the highway and the tic tic of the turn signal sounded, Irene moved, so I lifted my head from her lap and sat up straight too. She looked at me and gave me a slight smile, which seemed even more lustful because of the glossy red lipstick on her big lips.

Then she held my hand. I remember she took her time feeling my knuckles, my long fingers, my prominent veins. Clara sometimes glanced at us real quick in the rearview mirror. Then Irene, with her other hand, started pulling her skirt up, as far as it would go. Then she simply dropped my hand on her thigh and closed her eyes after a deep breath.

I went straight for her pussy, since she'd spread her legs wide. A couple of hours earlier, she'd been doing the same to Clara, in the dark of the movie theater.

Irene kept the pantyhose on, but she'd taken her panties off. Still with her eyes closed, she said, I took them off after the movie.

The sentence sounded louder, even sharper, because of the silence, and because the wipers had slowed down, and so had the rain, shortly after we left the highway.

Irene didn’t shave there. She seemed to have a kind of pride in that huge, coarse bush, which spread all the way to her groin and continued shorter but bristly down to her asshole. It was a bit like the pride you’d see in tarot illustrations and occult books, a witch or a priestess raising their wand or a ceremonial sword.

I was touching her lightly, just feeling that cushion of hair held in by the nylon fabric… as if it were the first time I did it, as if, for a second, that bush was something impossible.

On another road in the distance, the blue flashes of an ambulance rose against the night, and maybe that's why I suddenly felt that this kind of thing was like taking pills handed out in a little cup, every day at the same time, by a faceless nurse… just to take the edge off.

At the same time the Smiths’ song "Headmaster Ritual" was playing in the back of my mind. And maybe that popped into my head because Irene reminded me a bit of the teacher who, from when I was 10 to 13, ran things at the school and supervised the other teachers.

She never gave us lessons, she'd just show up at the classroom door, asking the other teachers to sign this and that. Meanwhile, she always asked if the usual problematic students were behaving. She'd look at them, usually all sitting together, and tell them she was keeping one eye on them, and that they knew she wouldn't forgive them if they slipped up. Maybe sometime I'll write about how she forced students to slap themselves… the so-called monkey dance.

She also always praised the few students in my class who got good grades and didn't fuck things up every day. Basically she acted as the principal's right hand at that private school where I spent my preteens… fifteen years ago.

Like Irene, this teacher was short, with huge thighs and a fat ass. We used to see her at lunchtime in a café across from the school, chain smoking, and the smell of the cigarettes would also get mixed with a perfume even stronger than Irene's. She always wore huge golden rings, some with fake emeralds, others with obvious plastic rubies. Her nails always looked like (red or black) talons and her makeup was heavy, especially the foundation, which never blended too well with the skin tone of her neck.

Right after Clara parked the car, Irene got out in a hurry, coat under her arm, leather bag on her shoulder. She already had the keys in her hand, so she quickly opened the door and climbed up the stairs to the third floor.

We all lived in an old building with no elevator. The staircase was narrow, but the wooden steps were huge and creaked at every step. On the second floor lived a widow, eighty-something years old, alone. The tiny apartment above us, with dormer windows, had always been empty, as far as I remember.

I still wonder what the neighbors thought about all of it. I mean, they certainly had their questions regarding our… unusual household configuration. They probably figured Irene was Clara's mother, maybe mine, and that Clara and I were dating, though, for some reason, we always had Irene on our back.

I went to the trunk to get my backpack, but Clara just stayed there, leaning against the car door. I asked her, are you ok? She only waved her hand, like she was telling me, go on up, I'll be right there. When the building door slammed behind me, I looked over my shoulder and saw her lighting a cigarette. Before that I think I'd only seen her smoke once.

Sometimes Clara reminded me so much of Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, mostly the song "Only Shallow". That album cover’s color was the same as her aura, not that I believe in that stuff.

Inside, despite the cold, Irene had already undressed and was walking around in her bra and pantyhose. She was in the kitchen making some coffee, in the half dark, since the only light came from the lamp in the hallway.

While the hot water was dripping over the ground coffee, she went to the bedroom, opened one of the wardrobe drawers and took out dark purple satin panties. Then she went behind the door and took her satin robe of the same color. Sitting on the bed, she took off the pantyhose and threw them into a corner of the bedroom.

I was leaning against the wall in the hallway and could see her doing all this, and she seemed to enjoy me watching her like that, hypnotized. She left the panties and the robe folded on the bed, and when she passed me in the hall, said, come.

So she drags one of the kitchen chairs and sits on it, now only wearing a beige lace bra, a bit grubby. She turns, opens the window behind her a bit, and lights a cigarette. Then spreads her legs in front of me and tells me, come… don’t leave me hanging.

Despite that, I walk slowly from the kitchen door, and when I get close to her, she grabs my arm and pulls me down to the floor, so I kneel. I put my hands on her legs and feel some thick hairs, already a bit grown out, near the knee.

I knew I had to get straight to it, so I put my head between her legs and then my mouth on her pussy.

I lick her eagerly, since she didn't like me starting slowly, just teasing and exploring around at first. And I keep going until all that hair, now wet from my spit and from Irene already being wet, starts to soften down. Meanwhile, we hear a key in the door lock.

Clara gets in, looks at us and smiles, but goes straight to the bathroom. I keep licking Irene’s pussy, no fingering, just running my tongue up and down the way Irene has already taught me, while the kitchen’s starting to smell more and more of tobacco and coffee, and all you can hear is the coffee machine, Irene's puffs on the cigarette and, now and then, the whoosh of cars passing by or just dogs barking in the distance.

When Irene’s done smoking and throws the butt in an empty Smint tin box, we both get up. She tells me, it's too cold for me to be standing here like this.

After going back to the bedroom and grabbing the panties and the robe that were left on the bed, we go straight to the bathroom. Mid hallway, Clara stops and Irene kisses her, then smiles and says, we won't be long.

When we're in the shower, Irene turns her back to me and starts rubbing her big, sourdough ass against my cock. I wrap my arms around her and put my hands on her big tits, then softly pinch her pepperoni nipples. With her eyes closed, and with the bathroom already clouded by the vapor, she starts to piss.

I can’t say I was instantly turned on by it, but I liked watching that dark yellow stream quickly dissolving in the clean water on its way to the drain.

As always, we left the door ajar, but Clara had gone to get coffee and then went to the bedroom to pick out her clothes for that night. She often wore a dark blue babydoll. Sometimes with stockings, not too often though.

Other times she would only wear a bra and panties, a bit tacky, lacy or cotton stuff in yellow or turquoise… I always thought it made her look skinnier, bonier… even paler.

Irene and I rarely kissed, and now it wasn’t different. Sometimes the three of us would be on the couch watching something on TV and she and Clara would make out, sucking on each other's tongues eagerly for a long time. They didn’t use their hands much, they'd just turn towards each other or Irene would sit on Clara’s lap and I'd hear their mouths, wide open, sucking each other’s lips, their faces smeared in spit… almost dementor-kissing.

Usually I didn't jerk off to that, nor did I watch them too long. Most of the time I'd just undress and move to an armchair near the couch, pretending not to care, but feeling my dick getting harder and discreetly rubbing it on the velvet upholstery.

All these things, especially when the three of us stayed all day inside, with the blinds down only letting in thin beams of light, made me think I was trapped, or lost without memory, on a faraway island where only women live, though only Clara and Irene knew those other women, because to me they would forever be like ghosts, myths… a game of archetypes whose rules I didn't know.

I got out of the shower before Irene, dried myself off and went to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. I found Clara already sitting on the floor, next to the pillow she was bound to use. She opted for black leggings, white cotton shin-high socks, and on top kept the wine red bra she wore all day.

As I walk into the room, she stands up, pulls her leggings down a little at the waist to show me she isn’t wearing panties, and then sits back down on the floor, just texting on her phone.

Irene showed up a little later. She went straight to the bed and lay on her back. I hung the towel behind the door, turned off the ceiling lamp, so we were left with only the glow of a small nightstand lamp, warm and yellow.

Lying on the bed, she adjusted her satin robe over the tits, then stretched out and opened her legs, pulled her panties aside, and with the fingers of her other hand showed us her pussy, spreading all the pubic hair apart.

Clara was already slowly riding on the pillow. Dry humping always seemed to be the fastest way for her to cum.

Then Irene, without at me, said, when you're ready, just put it in me… but don't cum inside.

I play with my dick and squeeze it hard, no spit or lube. Usually that's how I get fully hard fast. Next I slide my cock into Irene's soggy pussy, but I’m not lying on top of her, I stand upright so she has room to touch herself.

I'd really rather have fucked her hard, my body as dead weight squishing her tits, and my hands under her ass, her legs spread as much as she could… and I’d kiss her eagerly, in a somewhat clumsy way, until I came inside, not feeling any shame for not lasting longer. Then neither of us would clean up. She'd just take off the robe and we'd cover ourselves with the blanket and watch Clara rub her pussy faster and faster on the pillow until she couldn't hold it anymore and came, moaning loud, as she felt a strong shudder run through her whole body.

Instead, I have to keep a steady rhythm, not get excited or moan, hold it like that until Irene cums. Meanwhile, she tells me, with some contempt, keep doing that. And she warns me again, don’t cum inside or on my belly.

It must have been past two in the morning, so in all that silence I could make out every detail of their breathing, almost panting… Clara was trying to ride at the same pace I was sticking my cock into that bush.

Irene touched my shoulder, like tapping out. Still with her eyes closed, said, wait... stop.

She got up from the bed like a jack-in-the-box… then stood completely naked in front of Clara, who was still dry humping at a frantic pace. A huge stain of sweat and vaginal fluid could be seen on those leggings' weary fabric. The room smelled more and more of sex.

Next Irene starts to masturbate standing up, only to then sit on the edge of the bed rubbing her clit with all of her fingers, almost rubbing it with her whole hand.

She orders, between deep breaths, get me the… silicone plug. So, as I stretch my arm, she snatches it out of my hand, spits on it and effortlessly slides it into her stained, wrinkled asshole, with all those bristly hairs around it. She says, you can go now.

I obey the command and leave the room, heading to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. On the way, I pick up one of my t-shirts that was left on a chair and it's the only thing I put on.

My cock was still hard, but I'd been taught, you could say, ever since the three of us got together, not to think about sex or cumming after my part was over.

I, who rarely smoked now, only some weed from time to time, stole one of the Marlboro Reds, fully opened the kitchen window and lit it… Coffee and Cigarettes, a good movie, haven't watched it in a while now.

I flicked the butt out the window, drank the rest of the coffee in one gulp and, in the half dark of the kitchen, I just stood there listening to Irene moaning the same way she always did when she was about to cum. Her loudest howl (to me like nails on a chalkboard) usually came a few seconds after the climax. From the back of the kitchen, even with everything quiet, I couldn't make out what Irene was telling Clara, but soon Clara also came, now screaming instead of her previously muffled moans, just little noises interrupted by deep breaths.

As I was heading back to the bedroom, the two of them passed me, fixing their sweat-stuck hair.

Irene was completely naked and Clara only in her leggings… the wet stain now even bigger. Her tits were much smaller than Irene's, but, being twenty-five, firm, the nipples pink, still without any brownish spots… I can’t help noticing those details.

Once I dated a girl whose nipples had a strange feel. It always seemed to me like the skin had healed from a burn, but I never had the courage to ask her, though we dated for almost a year.

Meanwhile, I got in bed and lay down, just wearing that beat up gray t-shirt, nothing else. We all had that in common, sleeping with no underwear or fully naked. Though I hadn't cum, I suddenly felt tired and sleepy, so when they also got in bed and turned off the light, I had my eyes closed already.

Near dawn, Irene’s snoring, not loudly, just sleeping deeply, and Clara and I realize we're both half awake. She, who'd been lying with her back to me, turns over, looks at me for a while, the two of us there in the middle of the blue hour, feeling each other's breath on our faces… and she kisses me, a quick peck on my lips.

Before turning over again, she took off her leggings, rolled them up, and passed them to me. Like she knew I would, I deeply breathed them in. Then I put them between my head and the pillow.

Clara pressed her body against me and pulled my arm so I'd hold her. I quickly fell asleep again, after feeling for a while the odor of her sweaty, wet pussy impregnated into the leggings' fabric… also a faint trace of vanilla hair spray.

If you made it until here, let me know what you honestly think about this chapter. I'm open to honest critique and suggestions for next chapters. Thanks!

(CW: Bondage, ice play, oral, spanking, mentions of male masturbation, some praise)

I took my time as I bent you over and tied your wrists and ankles together with my neck tie, connecting you to the headboard. The last thing you saw before I blindfolded you was me putting on gloves while I explained how important trust is and told you that you’re so beautiful.

I left the room and you had no choice but to wait for me bent over, bound, and blindfolded wearing only your bra and panties. You lifted your ass to present yourself to me as you heard me walking back into the room. I set a glass of ice down on the nightstand and the noise made you turn your head.

You had no idea what the sound was and you didn’t ask either, you knew better and more importantly, you trust me. I reached into the glass and grabbed a single cube of ice, then I moved your hair away from the back of your neck. Without warning, I pressed it onto your skin. You jerked suddenly.

The restraints kept you in position as your body reacted, though. I leaned forward and kissed where the ice touched your neck. Then, again but this time I dragged it leaving a trail that I quickly followed with my tongue. I wrapped one of my arms around your body as I continued down your back.

With a mix of moans and winces, I made my way down your shoulders. I spent some time kissing your skin, letting the ice just melt into my glove. I undid your bra and kissed where the straps were. I reached into the glass and pulled another cube out to continue my descent down your body.

You let out a giggle or two as the cold block went down your sides and my warm tongue followed it. Up and down each side of your ass too, spanking both cheeks hard. I wanted them red. Every time my hand made contact with you, your body shot forward for me. Your pretty noises escaping your lips.

I let that cube melt too. I wasn’t done yet but I needed to get you ready for the final bit of ice. I started to touch your pussy over your panties, I wanted to feel just how wet you were for me. You were getting where I needed you to be. Then, I decided to rip your pretty panties off your body.

The fabric now laid torn at one of your knees while my gloved hand, still wet and cold from the ice, began exploring your bare pussy. I rubbed the lips up and down. You started to rock back and forth, moving your pussy away but then almost immediately bringing it back to my hand.

I took the last bit of ice into my mouth and slowly positioned myself behind you, my mouth nearly on your pussy. I blew my cold breath onto your skin just before I began to lick your slit. I held onto your ass with both hands to keep you where I wanted you. I savored every sound you made for me.

I kept licking and letting you feel my tongue and the ice on your skin simultaneously. I began slapping your ass again while I took care of your pussy. Once the ice dissolved completely, I immediately stopped licking, leaving you moaning and rocking your body again. You were dripping so good for me.

You felt me get off the bed and then heard my zipper go down very slowly. I pulled my cock out and started to stroke it while watching you struggle against the restraints. You listened to my moans and started squeezing your thighs together. After a moment, you felt me on the bed in front of you.

Finally, I grabbed you by your hair roughly. I told you how pretty you were about to look for me as I guided the head of my cock to your lips.

Such a pretty girl…

We’d only been talking a short time, but yesterday she hit me with a message that made my whole day shift. She was supposed to be heading out on a girls trip to the lake, finally kid-free for a day before they left. Instead, she sent her friends ahead and told me she was staying back to “take her time packing.” She told me that she was craving everything she had read in the stories I shared with her. She messaged me saying said she wanted me to come over and “give her a hand packing.” She also admitted she was extremely shy, almost to the point of fear. That only made me want her more.

The day at work was pure torture. I pushed hard to finish everything early because if I couldn’t get out before noon, I might miss my chance. The second I was free, I texted her. My heart was racing while I waited for her reply. When she sent her address and told me to come over, I nearly broke every speed limit getting there.

She answered the door even more gorgeous than her pictures. That perfect little smile, tattoos of butterflies and flowers running from her hand all the way up her shoulder until they disappeared into the sleeve of her shirt, and an incredible little body I felt like I could wrap my arms around twice. We went back to her room, sat on the bed, and talked for a minute. Her shyness was obvious and real, she kept apologizing for being awkward, but she had no idea how fucking adorable I found it.

I asked about her tattoos just so I could touch her. The second my hands were on her skin, the tension changed. I leaned in and kissed her. She was such a great kisser. I pulled away from her lips to kiss down her jaw and onto her neck. Instantly her body melted into mine and I heard the softest, sexiest moan escape her.

Taking her shirt off was a little bit of a comedy moment… I fumbled it completely and she ended up helping finish the job. But I redeemed myself fast. I reached behind her back, unclasped her bra with one hand, and slid it off smoothly. The second her breasts were free I had my mouth on them, sucking her nipple, flicking it with my tongue, and giving it a light bite. Her reactions were everything.

I kissed my way down her body, pulled her shorts off, and revealed her beautiful pussy. I couldn’t wait and dove in and started licking her clit. The moment my tongue touched her, her hips started grinding and rotating against my face like she’d been waiting for it all day. Her soft moans and the way she moved told me I was hitting the right spots. I slid a finger inside her and she went wild, hips thrusting harder and faster.

When she came the first time, her hips bucked so violently I thought she might hurt herself against my face. I climbed up, laid my cock against her soaked pussy, and kissed her while rubbing it against her clit. She immediately started grinding back. I teased her entrance for a moment, letting her feel what was coming, then slowly pushed inside her.

She was so tight. I took my time, letting her stretch around me inch by inch until I was buried deep. She felt incredible. We started slow, but it didn’t stay that way. She was soon fucking me back just as hard. I slid a pillow under her hips and started slamming into her. Right before she came she told me “don’t cum yet.” I knew exactly what this meant so I kept that exact same rhythm, hitting that spot over and over until her whole body tensed up and she came hard. Her body got so tense, and she was grinding and thrusting so hard that I found it impossible to keep my cock inside her!!

Her orgasms started coming faster and harder after that. Sometimes she’d buck so aggressively she’d push me out, but I quickly learned her body and started staying deep inside her through those intense waves. When it got too much for me I’d go back down, licking her clit and fingering her g-spot until she was shaking.

At one point she climbed on top of me. She did that same sexy grinding motion she’d been doing underneath me, rocking back and forth with my cock buried deep inside her. The sight of her little body moving on me, those tattoos shifting as she rode, was driving me crazy. I reached up, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her all the way down against my chest so there wasn’t even an inch of space between us. Then I started thrusting up hard from the bottom, fucking her deep while holding her tight. She moaned right into my ear and her hips kept grinding even as I took control from below.

One round she was halfway off the bed on her stomach. I slid my fingers in and she pushed back hard. That’s when I discovered she’s a squirter. She made the most perfect mess all over my hand and the bed. It changed the rest of the day instantly.

I had a good feeling we were going to get in at least two rounds that afternoon and I was still learning all the buttons she needed pushed. After fucking her restlessly with no fear of my own orgasm I finally came deep inside her, I rolled off and pulled her against me. I rubbed my fingers softly up and down her back and along her side, until I was tracing her tattoos up and down her arm. Jokingly I said, “You better not keep your friends waiting much longer, they’re gonna be mad at you.”

She didn’t move a single muscle. She just laid there enjoying my touch and quietly said, “They can just be mad.” That was all the confirmation I needed. Round two was definitely happening….

Dual Cultivation Thief - Chapter 1: Rare Cultivations

\plap plap plap** 

“Oh, oh…yes…I feel it! I can feel your Qi! Your Qi is blessing my Dantian!”

The two martial artists' eyes were locked into one another's. The bottom figure was a middle aged woman with deep black eyes, long black hair. Her long, thick legs pressed back as her pussy was being split open. A thick long cock sliding in repeatedly. The young man atop her was lean, muscular, and much shorter than her. His thick hands were wrapped around her legs, nearly folding her in half as he rammed her. Each time his tip would slam into her womb, threatening to push past. 

“Keep going! Don’t stop…I’m about to break through!” She screamed out these commands, but they were unnecessary as the man had no intention of slowing down. 

This man's veins pulsed with radiant light. The light of the purest Qi. I continued to slam downward with enough force that the whole room shook. They had shattered the frame of the bed awhile ago and had moved on to shredding the feathered mattress through sheer force alone. 

“I’m there…I’m going to ascend! You’re turning me into a True Martial God!” She squealed in delight as the man released what was his tenth batch of seed into her womb. The light traveled through the veins of his cock and flooded within the woman. Her eyes ignited with radiant white light. Her skin turned to smooth solid gold. The signs of a Martial Saint ascending to the realms beyond.

“Oh yes! Finally! I achieved it…I have become a God!” The voluptuous woman screams as she completes her climax. 

\Ten Years Earlier\**

*loud thudding shakes the entire room\*

“I-I’m awake already…” A voice called out from within the room. 

A young man in his early twenties stood from his bedding. He stumbled for the banging door and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

\WACK**

He slams hard into the floor. Tripping over the mess of his own clothes from many days before and smacking his jaw onto wooden boards. He wheezed out a groan, now properly woken up. He stands holding his jaw, making eye contact with himself in the mirror. His physique was striking for all the wrong reasons. His skin stark pale, as if he had never seen the sun. Long unkempt black hair draped his face and shoulders. The only visible muscle he had to speak of were due to malnutrition and laziness. His height seemingly stunted so even fully grown he’s barely five and a half feet tall. 

He mumbled to himself, “How am I supposed to produce an heir? When I’ve been cursed with this?” 

He was reminded constantly by his family that as the only child he is solely responsible for carrying on the family’s legacy. But what woman could possibly be willing to marry someone born so weak. He was born with a rare defect that severely limited his ability to cultivate and harness Qi. No medicine could cure him and no technique could bypass it. Adding to his misery the defect also creates the perfect conditions for chronic illness. Not only would they be marrying a preternatural weakling, but a diseased one at that. 

*bang, bang, bang\*

“Quick child! Or do you wish for me to lose my patience!” A voice pierced through the thick wooden door. 

“I said I’m awake!” The ill young man yelled back as he switched a latch and opened the door. 

He opened the door to see a brooding old man. His father’s advisor and personal aide, Wu. He had long fine gray hairs coming from his scalp and face that hid most of his features. 

“Why aren’t you prepared child? You have an appointment with the Medicine Saint. This could be your last chance to ever make something of yourself. Do you know what your father would do to you if you ruined his relationship with a Saint?” Wu continued angrily, pushing past the young man into his room. 

He swiftly began sorting through the mess to find something passable to appear in front of the Saint. Tossing the chosen articles at the man behind him. 

“Dress yourself quickly.” Wu commanded.

“Fine. Fine. But last I checked the Saint wouldn’t arrive till well after noon. And what have I said about calling me child? Aren’t I destined to be your boss one day?” The sickly man responded whilst putting on the only clean set of robes he had. 

“But you’re not yet. And you won’t ever be if you don’t get your act together.” He retorted before continuing, “It is well past noon…Lang.”

Wu exited the room as Lang began to hastily clothe himself. The extravagant robes were made in the style historic to his family. Long flowing black robes with the house’s symbol emblazoned in beautiful cyan on the breast and back, a soaring crane clutching a bundle of pine twigs in its claws, the He family crest. They’d be beautiful clothes, if they didn’t hang off him like a child wearing their mother’s gown. Lang followed Wu out the door. 

“The current Medicine Saint is a woman, so when you meet them, address them by Saintess.” Wu instructs him, “The rumors are that this is quite an issue for them so your father has asked me to remind you not to embarrass the family in her presence or there will be severe consequences.” 

“Why? It’s not like I ever have. I’m not allowed to leave this godforsaken compound.” Lang responds, only partly joking. 

“Quit. This is serious. When we enter the main hall, bow to the Saintess first, then your father and mother.” Wu quickly adds as they approach the large carved doors of the main hall of his family's manor. 

Displayed was a magnificent mural of a pine forest, but hidden throughout the boughs of trees are a number of cranes. It takes both Lang and Wu to press through the doors. The doors can’t help but to slam behind them as Lang approaches the table placed at the end of the hall. Wu made a wide circle around and approached the head of the table from the side. Both arriving to see Lang’s father sitting in a large thronelike chair made from stained blue woods and cyan cushions. His mother sat beside him in a similar, but smaller and wider chair. Across the table were a number of documents, books, and writing instruments. Lang looked forward, making eye contact with his father, but he quickly turned his attention to the woman standing before the table.

“Greeting Saintess.” Lang bowed formally and looked up to the Saintess. 

Turning to view him was the Medicine Saint. Currently the greatest physician in the entire Central Plains. Trained by the last Saint, who was trained by the Saint before them. Nearly a foot taller than Lang she must be the tallest woman he’s ever seen. Lang had to look up to meet her eyes. Vibrant green eyes draped by lightly greying black hair that flowed down her shoulder. She wore pure white physicians robes that clung loosely to a curvaceous body. Exposed cleavage reveals a chest that can only come from age and hips that seemed to swing even standing still. Lang couldn’t help but blush slightly before quickly regaining composure when he realizes just how sternly she is viewing him. 

“Greetings father. Greetings mother,” Lang looks away from the Saintess at his parents.

He could interpret no emotions from their faces. Wu whispered something subtly into the patriarch’s ear as the Saintess continued to look over Lang. This time circling around him. 

“This is him? The child physically unable to cultivate? Lang He?” The Saintess asks rhetorically. 

“Of course.” Lang’s father responds with a hint of confusion in his voice, “I have the documentation here.” Motioning towards a large pile of books on the meeting table.

It was extensive. Every aspect of Lang’s health was examined and studied throughout his childhood. He had become the local experiment for every physician in the region. Not that the research had helped him any. 

“Do you truly think you can find out what is wrong with him?” His mother asks the Saintess, her words may convey concern, but her expressions remain disinterested. 

The Saintess closes the gap between her and Lang. Avoiding eye contact Lang tries to look down, but realizes he’d be met with a face full of breast so begrudgingly lets her eyes lock onto his. His own black eyes reflect in the vibrancy of hers. A moment turns into eternity for Lang, as he can feel the heat of her body and breath. Finally, he notices a shift in her demeanor. Small curls form at the edge of her lips until she breaks fully into a boisterous laugh. Lang takes a small step back, scared from the suddenness of the sharp noise. 

She speaks between wheezing laughs, “Yeah…I’m sure. In fact I already know what it is.” She continues to laugh hard, clutching her sides. 

Lang’s mother stands from her chair, shocked. His father leans forward quickly. 

“Truely not?” The patriarch questions the Saintess. 

“We’ve tried for years and you find what others couldn’t in moments?” His mother asks, emotion leaking through her mask.

“Well…they aren’t me.” The saintess claims turning to meet Lang’s parents once more. 

“What is it then? What has doomed my family's lineage?” The man continues to question.

She laughs out once more, “Far from it old friend. If anything your bloodline has been blessed.” 

“How could this be a blessing?” Lang’s mother retorts, “He can’t cultivate, he can barely stand with his own strength, his constitution is weaker than a peasant's…”

Before she can continue to belittle Lang’s health anymore the Saintess injects, “It’s not that he can’t cultivate per se. It’s that he must cultivate with others.” 

“...”

His father breaks the short moment of silence that passes between the group, “We’ve had every instructor and sage we could find come to assist him. Not one has made any progress and more than a few nearly killed him trying. How could anyone help him cultivate.”

“Those are not the type of people he needs.” She responds, her voice lowering, “This young man’s body has a rare defect making it so that only a specific type of cultivation is possible. One that most often requires…the opposite sex.”

“What?” His mother asks in genuine confusion.

“You’re joking?” His father asks, face turning a slight red. 

“Not at all. Lang here was born to be a Dual Cultivator!” The Saintess exclaims, “Once he begins I can guarantee he will rise to his station. If not higher.”

The He family patriarch put his head in his hands. Something Lang had never seen him do. Then he did something that Lang hadn’t heard him do in decades, laugh. 

“What's so funny?” His mother asks, looking between her husband and the Saintess, “What is Dual Cultivation?” 

Lang’s father looks up at his wife. His contemplation was visible on his face. Clearly unable to formulate an answer. 

“Sex, Lady He, Sex.” The Saintess answers her. 

“What?” Lang finally speaks, “Dual Cultivation is sex?”

Lang’s mother’s face turns as red as wine as she struggles to form words. Lang’s father is unable to stop laughing in his own hands. And Lang finds himself swaying. The blood rushing to his face and the ever present nausea nearly causing him to double over. 

“How is that even possible?” Lang asks, boring holes into the hall's stone floor with his eyes, “How do I even…ya know…do it?”

“Are you asking me how to fuck?” The Saintess explodes with laughter.

“W-wait. N- That’s not what I meant!” Lang’s world spins as nausea overtakes him.

I had a career in the U.S. Army starting in 1968.  I was so fortunate to have served in Vietnam. I was not in the infantry, but rather, I was in communications which kept me well out of the line of fire.  I was stationed in a town named Phulam.  I think that is the correct spelling but if it is not, oh well.  Six years later I was forced to a change in my military occupation.  I was in air defense artillery with the 25^th Infantry Division in Hawai’i.  I arrived there unattended because my wife was in college back in New Hampshire and could not join me until the following summer.  I arrived there in October.

I was the chief of electronics in my battalion and a staff sergeant.  The master sergeant who oversaw the entire motor, where I was, left to go to another assignment so his position was empty and I took over.  I got a promotion for my efforts.  But enough about that.

I lived in military quarters on Schofield Barracks, but when I had off time, each weekend, you could always find me at the military beach right behind the Hale Koa Hotel.  One day I was leaving the beach, it was probably about 3PM, when a beautiful reddish-brown hair walked up to me and said she was lost and needed to get back to her hotel, the Sheraton.  I offered to walk her there, which she was agreeable to.  It was barely a 5-minute walk.  When we got to the lobby, I was ready to say my goodbyes when she asked if I would join her for a drink at the hotel bar.  I agreed and we sat at the bar.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “my name is Peter.  I should have introduced myself before we walked over.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay, my name is Siobhan.” (pronounced ‘shi-von)

Now I understood her hair color.  I had known more than one Irish woman with that exact hair color.  I had only looked into her beautiful green eyes until that moment when I allowed my gaze to venture southward on her body, and there I saw her large breasts, and of course, I was enthralled.  Somehow, I felt the urge to get close to her.  I did have my wedding ring on and never thought of removing it either.  My fidelity was in harms way, but I could not seem to help myself.  I was mesmerized by Siobhan.

“So what do you do for work, Peter?”

“I’m in the army here.”

“Oh, you look like you must at least be a major.”

“No, no no,” I said, “I am a sergeant first class.  A fella I work with said I should apply to be a warrant officer, but I am still thinking about it.  So, what do you for work?”

“I am an interpreter for a major company here.  I speak five different languages fluently.”

“Wow!  That’s impressive.”

“Ah, not so much.  They seem to just come to me easily.  I know people struggle with just one foreign language, but I never had that problem.  Now if you ask me something about math, I become incredibly stupid incredibly fast.”

We both laughed at that.  The she put her hand over my forearm and whispered to me, “want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’m married too.”

She did not have either an engagement ring or a wedding ring.  She stood up and took my hand and gently pulled me from my seat and led me to the bank of elevators.  Of course, I knew what she had in mind and my being faithful to my wife, for the first time ever, was very much in danger.  I hadn’t had sex in months, so I was very horny.

We went to the top level and then to a very large set of rooms facing the water.  In Hawai’i, such rooms were the most expensive.  We barely got into her room when she turned around, as we heard the door shutting tight behind us, wrapped her arms around me and pulled my body flat against hers.  Her large tits were pressed into my chest and gave me an instant hardon.  She kissed me and her slightly red lips tasted like strawberries.  She ran one of her hands from low on my back all the way up to behind my head where she slowly moved it up and down as we kissed.   My hand went from the middle of her back down to her ass where I clutched her there, and pulled up on her ass cheeks.

I broke our kiss and nuzzled my face in her hair behind her ear where I began to kiss her.  I kissed her gently there, the lightly blew into her ear and said, “I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with.”

“I bet you say that to all the women you have been with.”

“No, I have only been with my wife for the past five years.”

“And I have only been with my husband for the past two years.”

We were standing next to the bed when she started unbuttoning my shirt, then my shorts.  My shirt slipped easily from my arms while my shorts fell quickly to the floor.  I put my arms between hers so that I could get to her shirt, a white button-down shirt, which I freed from her body as quickly as she had from mine, and her short as well.  I had not seen it before, but she was not wearing a bra, and her large firm tits came into view.  There was only the slightest bit of sag to them, and they were even larger than I had thought.  I couldn’t help myself, and my hands were quickly squeezing her full firm tits.  I had never felt anything like them.  My wife’s tits were of good size, and fair firm too, but we had one child who had greedily nursed her.

Suddenly, she fell back onto the bed with her legs apart over its edge.  I dropped my drawers quickly bringing my raging hard cock into view.  “Oh my!” She said.  “I love what I see!”

“And I love what I see too.”

I then knelt between her legs, pulled her panties from her body and put my lips on her pussy.  I kissed it from top to bottom.  She had a delightfully musky scent, and I felt the immediate need to taste her.  Her pussy lips were already glistening we wetness.  I pushed my tongue between her pussy lips and tasted her.  It had a nice soft womanly taste. I slowly licked from the bottom of her pussy up to her clit which I sucked in between my lips.  Her clit was rather hard, and I sucked it as I imagined a woman would do with a cock.  I gently ran the tip of my tongue over the tip of her clit as I was sucking it in and heard her moaning lightly.  As I was sucking on her clit, my hands slowly glided over her naked body, over her belly, and up to her tits where they each grasped her, squeezed her, and gently ran my fingers over her rock-hard nipples.  I took each of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed each of them as hard as I could.  She gasped but did not say a word.  I then twisted each of her nipples and roughly pulled them upwards. She gasped more deeply this time but did not say a thing.  My hands then grasped each of her tits, squeezed them as hard as I could, and then twisted them very hard as well.  Another deep gasp but not word was said.

I got up on my knees between her legs.  My cock was standing proudly between her thighs, thighs like pillows awaiting their fate.  I slowly moved my cock to the entrance of her pussy where I paused.  My eyes stared into hers.  My serious face turned to my evil grin at which time I thrust my turbid cock as hard into as I could.  Her body moved noticeably.  I started fucking her as hard as I could.  I continued fucking her like that for several minutes, watching her chest rise and fall, faster and faster.  She was moaning loudly and with one moan she said loudly, “Oh yet Peter, fuck hard!  Make me your whore!  I want to be you slut!  You own my cunt! You own me! I am your plaything! I am your slave.”

I continued fucking her as hard as I could, surprising myself that I had yet to cum inside her.  As I continued fucking her, I saw the sweat appear on her brown, a drop falling been an eye.  Her chest was also wet with sweat.  Her hips began heaving upwards to meet my downward thrust.  Our hips banged angrily.  I put my hand around her throat and began choking her as I continued thrusting in and out of her, over and over and over.  She began to turn a pale blue and I released her.  She gasped for air.  I put my hand back around her throat and again choked her.  She did not complain.  I took my hand from her throat and slapped her across her gorgeous face.  The left side of her face turned red from the slap and she said, “I like that!  Don’t stop!”

Again and again, I slapped her, from the left, then the right.  I knew I was nearing climax and once again I squeezed her throat.  She choked the words through her throat, “I’m going to cum!  I’m going to cum!”

She had not so much as let the last word out when I felt my cock grow inside her, ready to spill my seed deeply within her womb.  I could then feel her pussy veritably squeezing my cock, trying to keep it in.  I because first squirting into her womb, my hot liquid hitting the back of her pussy, the front of her womb.  She shouted over and over, “Yes Peter!  Put your seed deep inside me!  I want you to make me pregnant with your baby!”

Her saying those words only made my cum leave me with extreme urgency.  We both climaxed together.  Then I fell to her side, and she threw an arm around me and kissed me hard upon my lips.  She then got down on my cock and sucked on it as it tried to return to its flaccid state.  She stayed only briefly before return to face me and press her full, heavy, large tits into my naked chest.  We lay like that for several minutes before I asked her a question.

“Is it possible I impregnated you?”

“Don’t be silly Peter.  I could feel those words made your cock fuller inside me.

I let out a sigh of relief.  It was still early, and I knew we were not done.  At least I hoped that was the case.

 

Previously:

1: First Cut | 2: Adjacent Edges | 3: Tracing the Limit | 4: Narrowing Margins | 5: Fracture Point | 6: Dissolving Boundaries | 7: Shedding the Armour | 8: Parallel Edges | 9: A Change of Frequency

----

Chapter 10: A Perfect Match

Niamh felt the charge in the arena dial higher as she pushed off from the boards and the crowd caught sight of her, a collective forward-lean of anticipation matching the rise in volume, which Niamh gathered into her body as she always gathered it and skated to her opening position.

She used the eight counts of silence differently tonight. With the cold air on her bare back, she used them to run her hands over her body: between her breasts, down her abdomen and out to her waist and the curve of her hips, the path Petra had traced on her in the shower yesterday. She used them to remember the edge patterns she and Petra had left on the morning ice. She let the evening and the morning exist inside those eight counts alongside everything else, private moments honoured under the public gaze.

The music cut in, and Niamh skated.

She knew the programme was working from the initial push. Her triple lutz was her best of the competition. She felt the entry edge clean and deep before she left the ice, the rotation tight, the landing smooth and solid. The whole first section ran with a coherence it hadn’t had before. Not sharper exactly, but more certain, as though the elements had found an explicit relationship to each other that’d only been implicit until now. Her spins were centred. She inhabited the programme's aesthetic arc the way she moved through the morning ice with Petra beside her: open, free, trusting the work.

The second section’s step sequence approached and Niamh entered it eagerly. She could already feel the crowd's response building, appreciating the full commitment she always brought to the ice. She’d spent years learning to use that response as fuel rather than distraction, and tonight it fueled the new clarity she brought to the footwork, her edges driving with the depth and certainty that Petra had seen and corrected and given her. She felt it in every step and angle, a gift running through the sequence like a golden thread.

She felt the arena's still focus underneath her own. Nine thousand people leaning forward, pulled out of themselves by the gravity she was generating. She gathered it, pushed off from it and drove it into the programme's final section with everything she had. The closing spin. The final position, exposed and vulnerable, arms encircling the memory of a warm body in the steam of a shower room.

The applause came immediately and completely, the audience releasing its full-throated appreciation all at once. She held her closing position and let it wash over her, feeling, beneath it, the satisfaction of having said exactly what she intended to say.

She skated a slow spiral that took her to the kiss-and-cry, and sat. The arena was still going. Deirdre handed over her blade guards and said nothing, and Niamh smiled back.

When the technical scores appeared they were the highest of the competition. Higher than the penultimate round and higher, by a tiny margin, than Petra's from ten minutes ago, the improved coherence that Niamh had felt across the programme adding fractions to every element. Petra's simple correction had been a precise and generous gift.

The programme component scores appeared and, again, they were the highest she had ever received. Still a clear gap to Petra’s — especially with the boost that Niamh’s own gift had contributed — but continuing that upward trend. She looked at the numbers and thought of the eight-count opening, the morning ice and the evening before. Separate elements that were not, really, separate at all.

Her combined score appeared on the board together with the final standings, and the arena, which had been abuzz, attenuated into a strange brief silence as the people within processed what was being shown. 

On the scoreboard, across all scored rounds, the combined total for Niamh Calloway and the combined total for Petra Schmidt were identical.

 * * *

The delay that followed was unlike anything Niamh had experienced at a competition. She sat in the kiss-and-cry with Deirdre and watched the officials' table with a kind of detached attention. The judges were consulting with each other. Eve Davies had appeared from somewhere and was speaking with the chief judge in a low, urgent voice. Two other officials had produced a physical rulebook and were turning its pages with the kind of careful haste that people who needed an answer immediately used when they weren’t finding one.

The arena stayed full. Nobody left. The PA system, which had been cycling its post-round music, went silent at some point, which made the ambient noise of the capacity crowd feel considerably louder.

Deirdre looked at the scoreboard, then at Niamh. 

"You’re seeing this too?" Niamh said.

"I’m seeing it," Deirdre said.

“Why are they taking so long?”

Deirdre said nothing; a heroic exercise of restraint, even for her.

At the officials' table, a phone call was made. The chief judge listened to it, said a few words, listened again, and then stood and crossed to the PA microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen." Her voice was the measured, precise diction of a senior official who was aware that the announcement they were about to make was something out of the ordinary.

The arena went quiet.

 "Following the calculation of all scores across all rounds, the competition has produced an identical combined total for competitors Petra Schmidt and Niamh Calloway."

The arena went very still.

"Under tiebreak protocols, the panel has reviewed all available secondary criteria. Technical scores, programme component scores, GOE breakdowns, and performance across all rounds have been assessed." A pause followed, a hesitation. "Despite fractional differences in scores across rounds, the review has found no basis on which to favour one skater over the other."

A sound moved through the arena, the collective processing of several thousand people arriving at the same realization.

"The panel has therefore taken the decision, in consultation with the federation, to award joint first place to both competitors. Petra Schmidt and Niamh Calloway are co-champions of the British Figure Skating National Championship."

What followed wasn’t the immediate, explosive reaction to a normal announcement. Rather there was a moment of silence as surprise flared, replaced by a sound that built from various patches of the arena and spread outward. Applause, certainly, but alongside it voices, laughter in places; people turning to those beside them to confirm that they had all heard the same announcement.

At the kiss-and-cry, Deirdre put her hand on Niamh's arm, a brief, firm pressure. Her version of a standing ovation. Niamh laughed and hugged her, which Deirdre endured with stoicism. On the scoreboard the two identical numbers sat side by side under two names that had always been arranged in the standings as adversaries. Then she looked across the ice.

Petra was near the exit to the backstage, in her costume and her competition jacket, her coach Hanna standing beside her. She was looking at the scoreboard too, with what Niamh now understood was the expression that meant she was processing a variable that fell outside her expectation. Petra turned as though she felt the attention and, across the ice, in the noise and the strange, delighted confusion of the Sheffield arena, they looked at each other. Petra's face opened like it had in the shower the previous night, mere inches from Niamh’s own after the dopamine rush of intimate touch. A tiny change but visible to Niamh, her mouth starting to shape a smile that it didn’t quite finish, but that meant something was happening inside her system that her system hadn't planned for.

Niamh felt a warmth and certainty rise in her chest, as it had when she’d watched Petra skate before her, and she smiled back, fully, openly, the way she did everything. She watched Petra receive it and her not-quite-smile deepened by a fraction, and Niamh thought that this, right here, was the highest score she had ever been given for anything.

 * * *

The medal ceremony was brief and slightly improvised, and came after a delay while the organizers searched in vain for an extension to the 1st-place podium block, followed by pained apologies and a polite request that the two skaters carefully share the limited space of the single block. The arena waited with indulgent patience, the crowd having decided to find all of this charming. The two gold medals were identical, and Niamh felt the cold metal of hers nestle between her breasts in the deep V of her costume. She caught herself wondering how they could magic up a second gold but not a second wooden block.

They stood on the podium together, both slightly angled, allowing Niamh’s shoulder, higher by several inches, to slip behind Petra’s so they overlapped somewhat while maintaining an inch or two of clearance. Until this week, their height difference had simply been numbers on a stats sheet. Now it was who stood in front of who on a podium, or who looked up and who looked down to kiss. Niamh put that out of her mind while the arena took its photographs, and the PA played the appropriate music. Eve Davies stood at the edge of the official area and wrote things on her clipboard.

Petra was looking straight ahead, poised and correct, as the photographs were taken. Her medal hung against the midnight velvet, the gold catching the arena lights. After a moment, without looking at Niamh, she shifted back slightly, a small, precise movement. They made contact, Petra’s narrow shoulder and back against Niamh's broader shoulder and chest, the velvet of Petra's costume against the moonstone mesh of Niamh's, the crystal band at Niamh's thigh pressing Petra's skirt against her leg. She did not move away.

Niamh felt the warmth of the contact and kept her eyes forward and smiled at the various cameras in front of her, and the Sheffield arena continued its celebration around them.

----

Thank you for reading! To be continued.

My Girlfriend Part 3 - Part 1,2,

I was working from home that morning, which mostly meant sitting on the couch with my laptop browsing Reddit and other random timewasters while Jack slowly stole my job.

I had gotten very good at using company time for my own pleasure. 

At nine fourteen, a new calendar invite appeared.

Company All Hands - 10:00

Attendance required.

That was probably not good.

A second invitation arrived less than a minute later.

10:30 - Martin / Johanna / Mia

That was definitely not good.

I stared at the two invitations.

“Well, fuck.”

At ten, several hundred tiny faces appeared on my screen.

The CEO looked appropriately miserable in an expensive shirt.

He talked about challenging market conditions. Changing client expectations. AI transforming the industry faster than anticipated. The need to become leaner, more focused, more adaptable.

We needed to get back to basics.

We needed to protect the company's future.

We needed to make difficult decisions today so we could remain strong tomorrow.

A lot of we for decisions most of us hadn't made.

Then came the important part.

Positions were being eliminated across the company.

Everyone affected would receive a private meeting invitation from their manager and HR.

I looked at the second tab on my screen.

Mine had arrived forty-six minutes early.

Well.

Nice of Google Calendar to spoil the ending.

At ten thirty, I joined the second call.

Johanna appeared first.

Same glasses. Same neutral expression.

Martin joined a few seconds later.

He looked like shit.

Not tired. Not Monday tired. Actually wrecked.

His hair was a mess, his eyes were red, and for once he wasn't sitting there with the vague expression of a man waiting for someone else to finish talking.

“Hi, Mia.”

“Hey.”

Johanna started speaking.

My position had been eliminated as part of the restructuring announced that morning.

Effective immediately.

There it was.

Fired.

Except apparently we weren't calling it that.

“Is Jack taking over the project?”

Martin looked at me for a second.

“Jack's position was eliminated too.”

“Oh.”

“The entire team is gone, Mia.”

That shut me up.

Johanna explained that because my position was being eliminated rather than my employment being terminated for performance, the PIP was ending with it.

That seemed convenient.

Then came the money.

Eight weeks of salary. Benefits through the end of the severance period. Payment for unused vacation. In exchange, I would need to sign a separation agreement containing the usual collection of words meaning take the money and don't sue us.

Johanna called it a release of claims.

I liked my version better.

“Is everyone getting two months?”

Johanna paused.

Tiny pause.

Interesting pause.

“Separation packages vary based on individual circumstances.”

Ah.

Please don't make us explain the PIP in front of a lawyer money.

The call ended, and I closed my laptop. I would have to go into the office to sign some papers, but after that, I was officially no longer employed.
I was unemployed.

This was bad.

I texted Leah, 

Me: 

I been fired

Leah:

You expected this, right? Did you get any severance?

Me:

8 weeks

Leah: 

Oh, that's good.

We can discuss employment plans tonight.

I am a bit busy right now. Just know I got your back. 💋

OK, that made me feel a bit better. With Leah on my side, I would land a c-suite position in no time.

My phone buzzed again.

Lin:
Soooo, how busy are you tomorrow? And the next two days?

I looked at my closed work laptop.

Me:
Funny you should ask. How can I be of help?

Lin:
My cousin is getting married, and my parents are flying me and a plus one out to Ankeny to show family solidarity. I thought perhaps you could be my plus one?

Me:
Anything for you, babe.

Lin:
Fuck you. Also, make sure Leah packs you something for a Midwestern wedding.

Me:
I can dress myself!

A few seconds after I sent that to Lin, a message showed up in the Girl Talk group.

Lin:
Leah, Mia is coming with me to a Midwestern wedding for my cousin. Can you fix her up with something sophisticated but down-to-earth? Something that will impress my family without looking too upper-class.

Leah:
Oh... that sounds like a fun challenge. Timeline?

Lin:
We leave at 11 tomorrow morning.

Leah:
That’s okay. I’ve got some things here I can modify.
Mia, your presence is required.

Me:

Oh, so you have time to make me outfits, but you're too busy to talk about me getting fired.

Leah:
You have two months of severance. Your wedding is tomorrow.

Lin:
You got fired, Mia? And you did not tell me!?

Me:
Errr... We can talk about it tomorrow, Lin. And sure, Leah, on my way over now. 

I arrived at Leah’s place to find it empty. I assumed she was at work, but had no real evidence. She’d had an evening lecture yesterday, so I had spent the evening at home.

I decided to make myself some food and tidy up the place. It was the least I could do, now that I was unemployed and leeching off my girlfriend. 

Leah arrived around six carrying several shopping bags.

She stopped just inside the door and looked around.

“Mia?”

I lifted my head from the couch, where I'd apparently upgraded unemployment into an afternoon nap.

“Oh, there you are. What happened to ‘your presence is required’?”

“I meant in the grander sense. Not immediately.”

She looked around again.

“You've been busy.”

I followed her eyes. The apartment was very tidy. I had put in some work.

“If you're looking for a job, I could use someone to cook and clean for me.”

“Pff. Better put a ring on this finger if you want that.”

She dropped the bags on the floor and took off her shoes. Leah’s place was a strict shoes-off home.

I had once spent half an hour online trying to figure out if that was some upper-class British thing. Reddit had provided several contradictory essays on class, carpets, and whether wearing outdoor shoes inside made you a barbarian.

About thirty minutes in, I remembered Leah was Japanese.

That had probably been the answer.

“Okay, so this wedding. Do you know the size? Theme? Dress code? Venue?”

“Nope. And somehow I doubt Lin knows either. It sounds like a rush job to get her there.”

“Fine. I brought options. Something middle-of-the-road for meeting the family, something for the ceremony and dinner, and something less restrained in case there's an after-party.”

I looked at the bags.

“You bought all that today?”

“Some. I already owned some.”

“Leah.”

“What?”

“You don't need to impress anyone for me. I trust you.”

Leah paused with one hand inside a shopping bag.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She looked at me.

I smiled. “I'm going to Iowa with Lin. You don't need to somehow win over her parents remotely through my wardrobe.”

“I wasn't trying to win them over.”

“Three outfits.”

“Technically four. I have a before-wedding and an after-wedding outfit, as well as the two for the wedding.”

“Four?”

Leah frowned at the bags as if they had betrayed her.

“I'm not saying stop. I'm saying whatever you pick will be fine.”

That seemed to settle something.

“Okay.”

She immediately pulled out the first outfit.

“Take your clothes off.”

I smiled at her. “Only if you are gentle. I am a fragile woman, you know.”

Leah recognized the joke and smiled.

“Sassy.”

“Unemployed. There's a difference.”

We tried different clothes and combinations for about an hour and a half before settling on four outfits. I also borrowed one of Leah's suitcases, which she packed for me along with shoes, accessories, and everything else she apparently didn't trust me to remember.

No family heirlooms this time.

I was ready for Iowa.

The next morning, Lin sent me the travel details, and we agreed to meet at the airport. I took an Uber and found her waiting near the baggage drop.

“All ready to meet my family and high school friends?”

“Why didn't you bring Dan instead of me?”

“Because bringing a man home as my plus-one would raise significantly more questions than I'm willing to answer.”

“And bringing me won't?”

“You're my roommate.”

“Ah. Plausible deniability.”

“Exactly.”

I hadn't been on many planes in my life. As a kid we'd flown to Vegas once, and that was pretty much the complete history of Mia versus aviation.

Lin, meanwhile, moved through the airport like she'd done this a hundred times.

I expected to be more surprised by the airplane part, but somehow it did not feel that weird. Instead, I focused on Lin, who seemed to be a bit out of sorts.

“Lin, who is getting married, and why is it important that you attend?” 

She looked at me and shrugged.

“It’s not really important. It's one of my cousins. They have been dating since high school and they already have a kid. It’s not who is getting married, it's who is there.” 

“OK, who are we going to meet there? Any ex-boyfriends I need to shield you from?”

“No. I had a pretty shitty high school experience. I got bullied a lot, and my attempts at romance were... not great.”

She looked out the window.

“I think it probably fucked me up in more ways than I realized. It's part of why I moved to New York. I wanted to get away from all these people.”

“And now you're going back.”

“And now I'm going back.”

She sighed.

“And I don't even have anything to show for it. I'm a humanities student, Mia. I don't have some amazing career. I'm not rich. I'm not successful. I'm just... me.”

I thought about the four outfits packed into Leah's suitcase.

Maybe Leah hadn't been trying to make me impressive for Lin's parents.

Maybe she'd been trying to make Lin impressive.

I was part of the outfit.

Well, fuck that. I was gonna be the best part of the outfit.

Lin was gonna arrive back in Iowa a fucking superstar.

When we landed, Lin's parents picked us up. They were smiling, obviously happy to see their little girl again. Lin introduced me, and they both gave me a big hug. I wondered if Lin might have been a bit harsh on her parents. These people seemed lovely.

They drove us to Lin’s childhood home, and I was told that I was bunking with Lin during the stay. They also gave Lin keys to their second car.

It was around three when we got back to the house. Lin’s parents told her to take the car and go explore her old town. Apparently a lot had changed since she left.

“Just be back by six for dinner.”

Once we were in the car, I looked at Lin.

“Six for dinner? Is bedtime at eight?”

“We'll explore more after dinner. I have some places to show you.”

The ride around town was extremely interesting, mostly because I was beginning to understand how this place could have driven Lin completely insane.

It wasn't some tiny farming town with one road and a grain silo. There were stores, restaurants, schools, parks, endless neighborhoods. Des Moines was right there.

But everything felt spread out. You drove everywhere. Every few minutes Lin would point at something and explain what used to be there.

“That used to be a cornfield.”

Five minutes later:

“That also used to be a cornfield.”

Then:

“Okay, that was always a Walmart.”

Progress.

She showed me the grocery store where she'd had her first job, the church her parents attended, the park where everyone hung out when they were too young to drink legally, and several houses belonging to people whose names meant absolutely nothing to me.

What did mean something was that Lin knew everyone.

Not literally, but close enough.

A teacher lived there. An old friend's boyfriend's parents lived there. That subdivision had three girls she'd gone to school with. Someone's mother worked at that store.

I started to understand.

New York let you disappear into millions of people.

Here, Lin had spent eighteen years being somebody's daughter, somebody's classmate, somebody's neighbor.

There was nowhere to just be Lin.

At five forty-five, Lin looked at the clock.

“We should head back.”

“Your parents said six.”

“Yes.”

“It's a ten-minute drive.”

“Yes.”

“Lin.”

“We should head back.”

There were apparently some childhood habits New York had failed to kill.

Dinner was aggressively pleasant.

Her dad asked me about New York. Her mom asked how Lin was doing at school. They asked about our apartment, complained about something a neighbor had done, and told an embarrassing childhood story that Lin repeatedly attempted to terminate.

Nobody demanded she move home.

Nobody criticized her clothes.

Nobody asked when she was getting married.

They seemed like perfectly nice people.

Which somehow made Lin make both less and more sense at the same time.

“You girls going back out tonight?” her mother asked.

“I wanted to show Mia the school.”

“Okay. Don't stay out too late. You've got a long day tomorrow.”

“Mom, I'm twenty-five.”

“I know how old you are.”

Her mother smiled and went back to clearing plates.

Nothing happened.

That was the weird part.

It wasn't a fight. It wasn't even unreasonable.

But I watched Lin's shoulders tighten anyway.

Around eight we escaped.

Lin tossed me the keys.

“You drive.”

I caught them on instinct.

“You remember I barely drive, right?”

“You have a license.”

“Those are not the same statement.”

“You’ll be fine. This is Iowa. The roads are wide and nobody is trying to kill you.”

I looked out at the enormous empty street.

She had a point.

When we got in the car, Lin snuck out a hip flask and took a swig.

“You don't have open-container laws in Iowa?”

“The sheriff is the father of the bride. He won't be working late today.”

“There are no other police?”

“Nope.”

I stared at her.

“That's obviously not true.”

Lin took another swig.

“Then why did you ask?”

We arrived at the school a few minutes later. Lin told me to park around the back, and I did.

She got out, took another swig from the flask, tucked it away, and told me to follow her.

We ended up by a small service entrance. Loading area, cafeteria deliveries, something like that. 

Lin climbed onto a stack of crates and started fiddling with one of the windows.

There was a click.

The window slid open.

My eyes went wide.

“Are we breaking and entering?!”

“It's fine, Mia. Trust me.”

“You knowing exactly how to break into your old high school is not making me trust you more.”

Lin started climbing through.

I swallowed.

Fuck it.

Whatever Lin needed from this place, apparently I was committing a misdemeanor with her.

Best friend duties.

When I dropped inside, Lin was already looking around. She took a deep breath.

“Still smells the same. I'm shocked that window is still broken. I guess tax dollars are being wasted.”

She looked back at me.

“Come on. I want us to do some things.”

We rounded a corner before Lin stopped.

She stared down the corridor for a moment, then turned to me.

“I have some requests. Fantasies, I suppose. They've been sitting in my head for a long time.”

“What kind of requests?”

Lin folded her arms and looked away.

“The kind where I need you not to be gentle with me.”

I waited.

“I want to go into the girls' bathroom and hide in one of the stalls. Give me a few minutes, then come looking for me.”

“And when I find you?”

“Be angry. Like I've been avoiding you and you've finally caught me somewhere nobody can help.”

“Lin...”

“I know.”

She reached for my hand.

“That's why I'm telling you now. I want this.”

“And if you stop wanting it?”

“I say the word and everything stops. If I freeze or go quiet, you stop anyway.”

“After?”

That finally made her look at me.

“You remind me this was my idea.”

She squeezed my hand.

“I don't want you to actually make me helpless, Mia. I want to know I can feel helpless and still be safe.”

I still had absolutely no idea what this was about.

But Lin had been clear about what she wanted, clearer than she usually was about anything involving sex.

I could ask why later.

Right now, she needed me to listen.

“Okay. What's the word?”

Lin told me.

I repeated it back to her.

“And if you freeze, I stop anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

I took a breath.

“Go hide.”

She smiled at me. Excitement? Joy? Relief? I had no fucking idea, and figuring it out wasn't my main problem right now.

I needed to get angry.

Or fake angry.

I needed a scenario. Something I could actually work with.

Then it hit me.

She'd made a move on my boyfriend.

Yeah. That worked. She'd offered Dan a blowjob, he'd turned her down, and now I'd caught the bitch who'd tried to steal my man. 

I bounced on my toes a few times, trying to pump myself up.

“Fucking Lillian Dwyer.”

Better.

“Trying to make a move on my boyfriend. Who the fuck does she think she is?”

I could feel the fake anger starting to build.

“Fucking slut. Thinks she can outperform me?”

There it was.

I headed toward the bathroom.

I slammed the door open, and the stink of piss and filth hit me like a wave.

“God, it stinks in here. Dwyer, do you like it here? Does it mask your BO?”

I stepped inside. Five stalls. Every door closed.

“I know you’re in here, Dwyer. Come out and I’ll be nice. Won’t hurt you much at all.”

I stood still for a few seconds, giving her the chance.

Nothing.

I slammed the first stall door open. Empty.

“Every second you make me spend looking for you is another second I’m going to spend making you regret it.”

Second stall. Empty.

“Damn it, Dwyer. I’m going to make you remember this.”

Third stall. Still nothing.

“Lillian Dwyer, you think you can offer my boyfriend a blowjob without getting some payback? I’m going to make you regret ever thinking about him.”

I hit the fourth door hard. There she was, sitting on top of the toilet, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around her legs, wearing that light yellow sundress. She looked scared. Part of me wanted to stop and pull her into a hug, but I knew it was the role. She'd told me what stopping looked like. This wasn't it.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her head back.

“There you are, Dwyer. Finally going to pay for what you did.”

Lin looked up at me with wet eyes. “Please don’t make a mark. My dad will notice and I’ll get in more trouble. I’ll do anything you say, just don’t hit me.”

I gave her a smile that promised nothing kind. “Anything is a lot of things, Dwyer. I hope you’re ready to pay up.”

She nodded hard. “Anything. I promise.”

I jerked my chin toward the sinks. “Take off that slutty little dress and your panties. Put them on the sink, then come back here. If you disappoint me, I’ll flush them.”

Lin scrambled to obey. While she stripped I shoved my jeans and underwear down and sat on the toilet with the lid up.

When she turned back, naked, I shook my head.

“Crawl.”

She dropped to her knees and crawled across the cold tile. When she was close enough I tangled my fingers in her hair again and forced her face down toward the open bowl.

“What made you think you could go after my boyfriend, Dwyer? A public hole like you? You don’t get to touch someone like him.”

She stared into the water. 

“I just wanted a taste. You’re so sexy and he’s so... hot. I could never have anyone like that. I... I just wanted to feel it for a little while.” 

“You want a taste?” I pulled her head up so she had to look at me. “Fine. I let him fuck me raw earlier today. Maybe if you make me come you’ll get a hint of him.”

I dragged her face straight into my cunt and held her there over the open toilet.

She started licking immediately. I let a few real moans slip out, then remembered the role and looked down at her.

“I’m not surprised you’re good at this. I bet you do this all the time.”

She gave a small nod and kept working. I ground down against her mouth, smearing myself across her lips and chin.

“Getting any closer to tasting him yet?”

Lin glanced up, mouth shiny. “You taste sweet enough for me.”

I spat in her face.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Shock flickered across her features. She shoved her tongue back between my folds without another word.

The rush of power hit harder than I expected. 

I decided to push further. I slid lower on the seat, spread my legs wider, and forced her face down between my cheeks.

“Clean it properly. Rub my pussy, but that slut mouth stays right here. My boyfriend likes anal. I want him to find a spotless asshole later.”

Lin made a low sound, maybe a grunt of pleasure, and obeyed. 

She was good at this. Thorough. The wet heat of her tongue working over and into me, combined with her fingers rubbing tight circles on my clit, had me climbing fast. I started rocking against her until it finally tipped me over. As I came, Lin slid a finger inside my ass without stopping her tongue. I clenched around it as the orgasm rolled through me. 

As I came down, I felt another pressure building low in my belly and decided it would make a good ending to my cruelty. I let go, and a hard stream of piss hit Lin full in the face. Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t pull away.

“Open,” I ordered.

She opened her mouth. I didn’t try very hard to aim. Most of it ran across her cheeks, into her hair, down her neck and over her tits. I kept going until the stream slowed to a trickle, then stopped.

Lin sat back on her heels, dripping, staring at the floor.

I stood, wiped myself with two fingers, and cleaned them in her hair.

“Good work, Dwyer. I think we’re going to like this new arrangement. Next time I’ll let you eat the cum out of my ass after he’s finished with me.”

She nodded, still looking down.

“Good slut. I’ll call you when I need you. Clean yourself up, you stink of piss.”

I grabbed my clothes and left the bathroom. 

Outside, I dressed quickly and stood there for a moment.

That had been...

Fuck.

I pressed my ear against the door.

Nothing sounded wrong.

After another moment, I eased it open enough to peek inside.

Lin was still on the floor, one hand between her legs, eyes closed. Apparently, I caught her right at the end. Her whole body tensed before she sagged back against the stall.

Okay.

Definitely not traumatized.

I stepped into the doorway.

“You liked that?”

Lin looked up at me, flushed and breathless, and gave me a small, completely genuine smile.

“God, it was amazing. So much better than I imagined.”

“How many times did you imagine that?”

“Thousands.”

“Jesus Christ, Lin.”

Her smile widened.

And just like that, Dwyer disappeared. This was Lin again.

“So you're good? Hug? Water? Emotional support animal?”

“Shower.”

“I can do shower.”

“Good, because that's our next stop.”

I carried her dress and underwear as we walked toward the gym lockers. I didn't want them getting stained after everything we'd just done.

Lin didn't seem particularly bothered about walking around naked. Maybe that was part of the fantasy too?

She was a complex woman. Lots of weird little compartments in that brain.

“You said the shower was our next stop like this was something you'd planned. Was it?”

Lin looked at me and smiled.

“Yes, it was on my agenda. Back when I was here, there was a huge scandal at the school. Someone had snuck a phone with an active camera into the girls' shower. The video got out, and eventually everyone at school had seen it. They found whoever did it, and the school dealt with the whole thing. I wasn't in the class that got caught on camera, but when I saw it being shared, part of me wished it had been me. Not because I wanted someone to do that to me. It was the idea of all the boys looking at me, touching themselves, thinking about me. It was... a fantasy I had a lot.”

I looked at her. “That's sort of weird, Lin. No offense. I jack off to some seriously weird things now and again, but it’s mostly about tentacles and forced breeding.”

She smiled at me. “Well, we can explore that another time.” 

“But for now, I want to make a video of us in the shower if you're up for it.”

“Are you gonna AirDrop it at the wedding or something?”

She laughed. “No. It'll just be mine.”

“Just yours?”

“Yeah. Something I can watch and imagine other people are watching too.”

“Okay. That seems... surprisingly reasonable, actually.”

We entered the showers and I took out my phone, propping it in the corner of the room. The wide-angle lens caught most of the room from close to ground level.

Terrible porn cinematography.

Perfect hidden-camera cinematography.

Lin walked beneath one of the central showerheads and turned on the water, washing herself off. For the first minute she seemed determined to pretend the camera wasn't there. Just a woman taking a perfectly normal shower.

Then she started stretching a little more than necessary, turning slightly toward the lens, or taking considerably longer to wash certain places. 

She was absolutely performing for it.

I stripped down and stepped under the showerhead beside her, deciding to play along. I didn't look at her. Didn't look at the camera. Just another perfectly normal person having a perfectly normal shower.

At least, that was the plan.

Then I looked over at her, and she was sliding a finger between her legs, and I decided that maybe I could do a better job than that finger.

I stepped under her spray without asking. Water ran over both of us as I reached down, gently caught her wrist, and pulled her hand away. Lin’s eyes flicked to mine, then to the phone in the corner, then back again. A small, guilty smile tugged at her mouth.

“Let me,” I said.

I dropped to my knees on the wet tile. The water hit my shoulders and streamed down my back as I leaned in and dragged my tongue up the length of her pussy in one slow, deliberate stroke. Lin’s hand found my hair immediately. She didn’t push, just held on.

I licked her properly this time. No rush. No performance for the camera beyond what was already happening. Flat strokes over her clit, then lower, tongue pushing between her folds, tasting clean water and the sharper taste of her. I slid two fingers inside her while I worked, curling them upward, matching the rhythm of my mouth. Lin’s hips rolled forward in small, needy pulses. A soft, broken sound left her throat every time I pressed just right.

After a minute I pulled back just enough to speak against her skin.

“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

She obeyed without hesitation, bracing her palms on the slick tile, ass pushed back toward me. I stayed on my knees, spread her open, and licked a slow stripe from her clit all the way up over her entrance and across the tight furl of her asshole. Lin shivered hard under the water.

“Mia?”

“Hush, I have a plan.”

I worked her with my tongue the same way she had done for me earlier, thorough, patient circles, then pointed pressure until the muscle softened and let me in. At the same time, I reached around her, slid two fingers back inside, and settled my thumb against her clit. The sensations made her legs tremble. Water ran down the cleft of her ass and over my tongue; every time she pushed back, I met her with more of it.

I pushed my tongue deeper, fucking her ass slowly while my fingers curled inside her, my thumb moving steadily over her clit. Lin’s forehead dropped against the tile. Her breathing turned ragged, broken by quiet, high sounds she tried and failed to swallow.

I murmured against her. “You look beautiful.”

She only moaned in answer and pushed back on my mouth.

I kept the rhythm steady, tongue and fingers working together, my thumb pressing firm circles on her clit, until her whole body went tight. Lin came with a sharp, open-mouthed cry, her thighs shaking as everything tightened around me.

When she finally sagged against the wall and slid down to my level, I pulled her in and kissed her under the spray. Her arms looped around my neck and she pressed close, still breathing hard. 

“You know, I was mostly planning for this to be a voyeurism video to rub myself to later. But I think this is going to be much better.”

“Sorry, I couldn't help myself.”

She smiled, got to her feet, turned off the showers, and grabbed a towel.

“We have one last stop before we leave. Come on.”

The last place Lin wanted to show me was the football field. She dragged me under the bleachers and just stood there, looking around.

“I don't know what I wanted from this place. I think I needed to come back, just to loosen the memory. See if it actually still mattered.”

I looked around. “What happened here?”

“I had a... bully. She had leverage over me and liked using it. She'd make me walk with her, sit with her at lunch, pretend we were friends. She made me do her homework.”

Lin looked farther under the bleachers. 

“And she'd bring me here as a lookout while she fooled around with her boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“At first they just kissed. Then one time she gave him a blowjob. Eventually they started having sex in front of me.”

She paused.

“I'd never had a boyfriend. I'd never had sex. So it was... impactful.”

I waited.

“When I heard you and Dan back when you were dating, it reminded me of this. God, watching them used to make me so horny. Hearing you two brought all of that back.” 

I stared at her.

“Okay. That is... a lot.”

“Oh, it gets worse. She wasn't exactly a good girlfriend. I had to watch her with a few other guys too. Once, there were two at the same time.”

Lin stared out across the field.

“God... Anna was such a slut. I wanted to be her so badly.”

That wasn't quite what she'd said before.

“Okay, but you don't see me as this Anna, right? I never meant... like, I never knew it would hit you that way. Jesus, I feel like I've been abusing you for six months.”

I sat down on the ground, my back against one of the wooden supports.

Was I being Anna now?

Was my relationship with Leah another version of this? Me having something Lin secretly wanted while she stood on the outside watching? 

Was I hurting Lin again?

“I know you're not Anna. I know you never meant to hurt me, or turn me on, or whatever happened.” Lin looked around. “I just needed to organize some things in my head, especially with this whole Leah thing hanging over me.”

I looked up at her, biting my lip, suddenly worried I was going to start crying. Lin sat down beside me.

“Maybe you were Anna when you were dating Dan. Not the bully part, but the part where I had to watch her having sex. It wasn't just the sounds, you know. I accidentally saw you and Dan walking around naked more times than any roommate should. You are both very unbothered by nakedness.” 

I laughed, remembering how much Leah had said I always hid myself. 

“Well, I hope you know I love you, Lin. I'd never want to hurt you.” 

“I know, Mia.” She looked down at her hands. “It's not you I'm worried about. It's me.”

[Question: Will the host continue… or stay a loser?]

A year had passed since Mike awakened the Charm System.

At first, he thought he was losing his mind. The glowing screen and strange messages felt like the start of a mental illness, so he ignored them.

The first mission was simple.

[Quest: Help an elderly man carry his groceries.]

Mike wasn't trying to complete a mission. He only helped because it was the right thing to do.

The moment he set the bags down, a message appeared.

[Mission Complete.]

[Reward: +5 Stamina.]

Mike frowned. He still dismissed it as a hallucination.

Mike went about his day as usual. He pushed the strange reward to the back of his mind and told himself it wasn't real.

That evening, he laced up his running shoes and headed out for his usual run.

After a few kilometers, he frowned.

His breathing stayed steady. His legs felt light. This was usually the point where he slowed down, but his body kept moving with ease.

He picked up the pace.

Another kilometer passed. Then another.

When he finally stopped, he checked his running app. He had shattered his personal best and still had energy left.

Mike stood there, staring at the screen.

For the first time, he wondered if the system was real.

[Ding! Mission Available]

Quest: Repeat for a month.

100 push-ups

100 sit-ups,

10 km run.

Author: Classic.

Reward: +1 Confidence, +10 Karma points; Skill Shop available.

Failure: Losing Streak continues, System Disappears, Erectile Dysfunction (permanent).

Mike's eyes remained fixed on the final line.

Permanent... what?

He slapped himself across the face.

Smack.

The sting was real.

"...This isn't a dream."

Mike didn't dare ignore the system. What if it's real? That single thought was enough to push him out the door. Day after day, he ran, trained, and completed every mission without fail. His sudden consistency shocked the entire town.

[Ding!]

[Quest Completed]

Reward: Confidence +1, Skill Shop available.

[Host Profile]

Name: Mike

Level: 1

Title: Loser

Stats:

Strength: 25

Stamina: 23

Charm: 10

Confidence: 15(+1)

Intelligence: 12

Karma points: 0(+10)

Status:

Women: 0

Wealth: $100

Skill shop: available

Mike felt his eyes sting as he read the screen. Every number was painfully accurate. Even the "$100" made him want to cry.

[Skill Shop]

Three skills appeared on the screen.

Jab (Intermediate)

A fast, precise punch sharpened through years of boxing.

Cost: 5 Karma

Trade (Beginner)

Improves negotiation and bargaining skills, making it easier to spot profitable deals.

Cost: 4 Karma

Silver Tongue (Beginner)

Improves conversation, flirting, and the ability to read romantic signals.

Cost: 4 Karma

Available Karma: 10

Mike didn't waste any time.

"Purchase Jab."

[Ding!]

A flood of memories rushed into his mind. Countless hours of training, endless rounds on the heavy bag, and thousands of perfectly thrown jabs became part of him in an instant.

He clenched his fist. The movement felt natural, as if he had practiced it for years.

Without another thought, he made his second choice.

"Purchase Trade."

[Ding!]

New knowledge settled into his mind. Prices, negotiations, and business opportunities suddenly felt easier to understand.

Only one skill remained.

Silver Tongue.

Mike stared at it for a few seconds.

Claire's smile crossed his mind.

He let out a quiet breath and closed the Skill Shop. "No."

He smiled to himself. "Learning to flirt with other women when I already have Claire..."

He shook his head. "That would be cheating."

***

Mike said in a determined voice, "I will continue."

[Ding!]

System unlocked the next stage.....

[Generating Quest]

Fuck a girl within three days.

Reward: Seducer's Eyes. You can see anyone's weak points, whether in a fight or in sex.

Failure: Hostel stay canceled.

[Bonus: Silver Tongue]

Mike read the quest without a word. His eyes lingered on the reward for a moment before moving back to the objective. He had stopped questioning the system a long time ago.

The first few quests had seemed ridiculous too. Yet every one of them had changed his life in ways he couldn't deny. By now, he had learned one thing—the system never gave him a task without a reason.

"I'll complete it," he said quietly.

With that, he dismissed the screen. His mind had already moved on to the only thing that mattered: how to finish the quest.

The next morning, Mike woke up around ten. He had already missed his first class, but he didn't care.

Yesterday had drained every bit of excitement he had felt about starting university. He walked into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror, and frowned.

"Damn... I look like shit."

Mike took a shower, grabbed his backpack, and headed to class. Halfway down the hallway, his stomach growled.

"I should grab something to eat first."

He stopped by the canteen, ordered a cheese sandwich, and waited for his food. As he stood there, he kept his eyes on the quest window, searching for a way to complete the mission before the deadline.

The sound of laughter pulled him out of his thoughts. A group of students walked into the canteen, talking loudly. Mike looked up and recognized a few familiar faces.

His eyes settled on one of the girls, and Mike recognized her right away. It was the same girl he had met in the campus park. She wore different clothes today, and the fitted outfit hugged her figure in a way that caught his attention.

Their eyes met for a brief moment. Mike quickly looked away, picked up his sandwich, and headed to class.

The classroom was already packed.

Mike slipped into an empty seat by the window. Conversations buzzed all around him, but he ignored them, unwrapped his sandwich, and quietly ate while staring out the window.

A hand tapped lightly on Mike's shoulder. He turned and saw Eve standing behind him.

Author: Eve??

"Sorry," she said with a small smile. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

A sweet, slow voice entered Mike's ears. "You, from the park, right?" Mike asked, a little surprised.

"I'm Eve." She extended her hand with a friendly smile.

"Mike." He shook her hand, still unsure why she had approached him.

Her tight top hugged her full, ripe breasts. A deep cleavage line showed on top. Every small move made her upper chest jiggle softly. 

…When they shook hands, the fitted top shifted with the movement, fabric pulling tight across her chest. Mike's gaze lingered a beat too long before he dragged it back up to her face, no shame in it.

Eve noticed. Instead of pulling her hand away quickly, she held the handshake a moment longer than normal, her fingers lightly brushing against his palm before she finally let go.

"I saw you at the campus park yesterday," she said. "The way you were holding those flowers... it was sweet."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment?"

Eve smiled. "Maybe a little."

She tilted her head. "You're new here, aren't you? I don't think I've seen you around before."

"More or less."

"Good," she said with a faint smile. "That means I still have a chance to make a decent first impression." She looked at him for a moment before adding, "I'm heading to the café near the east gate. Come with me."

Mike met her eyes.

"You ask every new guy out for coffee, or am I getting special treatment?"

Eve let out a soft laugh. "Only the ones worth inviting." She turned slightly, then looked back over her shoulder at him. "Coming, Mike? Or are you going to make me walk alone?"

The way she said his name was deliberate.

Mike's lips curved slightly. "Lead the way."

As he fell into step beside her, a cold blue screen flickered across his vision.

[Ding! Mission update]

[Target: Eve]

[Have sex with her within 72 hours]

Check Profile

The email came on a Tuesday afternoon. Subject line: "Cebu trip - hotel booked." I opened it expecting two room confirmations like always. One for me, one for whoever I was traveling with. Standard. Professional. What I got instead was a single confirmation for a single room at some budget hotel off the main road.

I stared at the screen. Read it again. One room. One king bed. For me and my boss.

I knew why before I even asked. The company was cutting costs. My boss had been complaining about travel budgets for months. He was the kind of guy who would book the cheapest flight, the smallest van, the tiniest room and call it "being smart with money." I had heard him brag about it in meetings. How he saved the company thousands by being "practical." How he never understood why people made such a big deal out of "a little discomfort"

I should've said something. Should have forwarded the email to HR, or at least asked him to book a second room. But I didnt. Because I told myself it was just one night. Like that made it better. Like one night of sharing a bed with my boss was somehow less wrong than two would be. Because I was an idiot.

I didnt tell my husband.

I knew how he would react. He wouldn't yell. He would just get quiet. That was worse. He would ask me why I didnt say something at work. He would ask me if I was okay. He would ask me if I wanted to quit. And then he wouldnt let it go for weeks. Every time I traveled after that, he would text me "which hotel" and "how many rooms" and "are you sure" like I was hiding something

So I told him the trip was booked. I told him the hotel name. I told him it was near the office. I didnt tell him about the room.

The guilt started before I even left.

The flight to Cebu was two hours. My boss picked me up at the airport because he wanted to "maximize the day" He drove. I sat in the passenger seat and watched the city roll past and tried not to think about the bed.

He talked the whole drive. About the meetings. About the clients. About how excited he was to "finally get some face time with the Cebu team" He was always like this. Energetic. Optimistic. The kind of guy who made you feel like work was an adventure instead of a job. I used to like that about him. Right now it just made me tired.

We got to the hotel around noon. He checked in. I stood near him. He laughed with the receptionist. He always laughed with everyone. He had one of those faces that made you feel like you'd known him for years even if you just met.

"One room" he said. "But hey, at least its got a great view."

I looked at the key card. Then at him.

"One room" I said.

"I told them two beds" he said. "I asked for two beds"

The receptionist had already shaken her head before he finished. "Sorry, sir. The other room isnt available. Weve got a conference in town. Were fully booked. The one in your room is a king size bed."

He shrugged. "Were stuck with this"

I looked at the key card again. He was already walking toward the elevator.

The room had one bed.

Big enough for two people if they didnt mind being close. Which I did. Very much. I stood in the doorway and looked at it and felt my stomach drop.

My boss tossed his bag on the chair by the window. He didn't even look at the bed. Like it was nothing. Like this was normal.

He looked at me. Really looked at me. For a second I thought he was going to say something. About the bed. About how this wasnt ideal. About how he could sleep on the floor or the chair or in the car. But he just shrugged.

"Its one night" he said. "Well be fine."

I nodded. I unpacked my bag. I put my stuff in the bathroom. I told myself it was fine. One night. Two adults. A big bed. People shared beds all the time. It wasnt a big deal.

.............It was a big deal

That first meeting ran until seven. We grabbed dinner with the clients. My boss drank two beers and told stories and made everyone laugh. I sat next to him and smiled and nodded and tried not to think about the bed.

We got back to the hotel around ten. He went straight to the bathroom. I heard the shower start. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my phone.

My husband called.

I looked at the bathroom door. The shower was running. I stepped into the hallway and answered.

"Hey" I said.

"Hey. How was the day?"

"Good. Long. The meetings went well."

"Where are you now?"

"Back at the hotel."

"Which room?"

"Um. 412."

"Cool. Is it nice?"

"Yeah. Its fine."

I heard the shower shut off. I lowered my voice.

"I should go" I said. "Ill call you tomorrow"

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too"

I hung up. Stood in the hallway for a second. The guilt was sitting in my chest like a stone. I went back into the room.

My boss came out of the bathroom already dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. Climbed into bed. On the far side. He pulled the covers up and looked at me.

"You coming to bed or are you gonna stand there all night" he said

I went to the bathroom. Brushed my teeth. Washed my face. Looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired. I looked guilty. I looked like someone who was already thinking about something she shouldnt be thinking about.

I came back out. He was on his phone. I climbed into bed. On the far side. As far as I could get without falling off.

The bed was big. But it didnt feel big.

I could hear him breathing. Could hear the sheets rustle when he moved. Could feel the warmth of him across the mattress. I stared at the ceiling and told myself to sleep.

I didn't sleep.....I couldn;t

I lay there in the dark and listened to him breathe and thought about my husband. About how he was probably already asleep in our bed. About how he had no idea I was lying here a thousand miles away next to another man

The guilt was heavy. But underneath it, there was something else. Something that felt wrong. Something that felt like I was already thinking about him. Something that made me hate myself.

I rolled over. Faced the wall. Tried to sleep.

The bed felt smaller than it did an hour ago.

Imagine your crush, celebrity or IRL in this scenario...

Contents: Explicit, NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v, flirty fluff, teasing, oral sex M receiving and F receiving, teasing, alcohol, language, flirty fluff.

You've noticed him around your work. He's new, and every time you look at him, it makes the butterflies go crazy in your tummy, and you find yourself biting your lip. All sorts of thoughts flood your head, thoughts you would never say out loud.

One day, you walk down the corridor, and you see him walking towards you. He's on his phone looking down at it until he lifts his eyes to look up, and he makes eye contact with you. You look back, almost transfixed. Time seems to be slower, frozen in the moment. He smiles at you with his lips, almost a smirk but soft, not breaking eye contact. You want to say something, but you can't. As he walks past you, you can catch a glimpse of his scent; aftershave, so sweet, yet masculine, it's quite intoxicating. As you both pass each other, you never break eye contact until he looks to open the next door in front of him. You stand still and watch him walk through the door and out of sight.

Just the eye contact alone makes your heart pound, and you feel yourself getting hot, and you need to run to the bathroom to calm down. Oh my God, you thought, you've never been that close to him before.

You can't get the encounter out of your head. Though it was brief, it felt so ingrained in your head. It's all you think about for the rest of the day. You look at your computer screen and twirl your hair around your finger. Those eyes, so perfect, so captivating. His face, so handsome, his body so broard, muscly. His...

'Y/N!' You jump out of your skin, it's your colleague; Jessie abruptly snapping you back to reality.

'You scared the shit out of me!' You say. She laughs.

'I'm sorry, but you were staring at the screen with the most blank, dopey expression on your face. Only half an hour to go, want to grab a drink in a bit?' She asked.

'Yeah, why not?' You relpy, a drink would be a good distraction, what must I have looked like? You shudder at the thought.

A while later, you're having a few drinks with Jessie and some of your other colleagues. Jessie is your closest friend at the office. You love how down to earth she is and how she is never shy of airing out her dirty laundry and over sharing. You only briefly listen to the conversations at first, what you can keep up with anyway. However you show interest when she starts talking about your crush.

'Omg, he's so gorgeous, the things I would let him do to me, phaw!' as she's fanning her face with her hand. You laugh and roll your eyes, great, I needed a distraction, now he's back in my head again. She went on about him for ages, and you agreed with everything she said.

'Is he married?' You ask.

'No, I don't think so there's no ring on his finger that I've noticed, I don't know about a girlfriend though, I've only said Hello to him a few times, I have to get away from him because I start to blush', she laughs. You laugh too, and take a sip of your drink. He has that effect on everyone, it seems.

A few weeks later, it's approaching summer, nights are getting shorter, and there's a well needed rise in temperature. It's Friday night you were thinking of going out, but you knew the weather had other ideas, and you decide to just stay in and read.

You've had a couple more encounters with your crush at work. You had a very brief conversation while you were waiting for the lift. His voice was so smooth, yet a gruffness to it, very hot, you thought. You made small talk about the job; how busy you both were ect, he was surprisingly easy to talk to, though you did stutter a few times. You figured he found it quite amusing. You don't think you hid your feelings very well. You shudder thinking about it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roll of thunder. It's turned darker fairly quickly, the sky is full, and the rain comes pouring down. You smile to yourself, I'm definitely staying in now, you make your way to the conservatory, now which book? You look through your book self, trying to decide. It was time for a new one as you had just finished your crime novel. You bought a couple of new ones this week; two thrillers and a spicy one.

You pick up one of the thrillers, but you know you are going to choose the spicy one! Spicy one it is then, this one was about an office romance. (You couldn't resist).

The rain is getting harder, and the blasts of lightning are so loud they make you jump. You take a sip of your hot tea and sink down in your chair, you sigh a very contented sigh. Your book is starting to get very interesting. Your peace is interrupted once again from a loud knock at the door. You're not expecting anyone, and it is getting a little late to open the door. You reluctantly get up out of the chair and walk to the front door. You open the door, and there he is, your crush.

Chapter 2

He is standing with one hand leaded against the wall, he is wet through, water dripping from his hair down his face, his wet clothes are clinging to his toned body, he’s wearing a dark fitted shirt with the top buttons open showing his chest.

‘Hi, I’m so sorr- Y/N?’ he says, looking right into your eyes.

‘I’ve just broke down in front of your house, the stupid thing just stopped, tonight of all nights’

You open the door fully as rain is coming in.

‘Oh God, sorry. Come in, come in your drenched,’ you say, just realising he’s still getting wet. He steps in and shuts the door behind him. He really is wet through, he drapes his hand through his hair and looks at you. You have to stop yourself from making a very inappropriate sound.

‘I’m so sorry to intrude on you like this, I was on my way back from my mates house, when the heavens open, and then my bloody car goes and starts spluttering, and just stops, couldn’t get the fucking thing to start again, then to make matters worse my phone died.’ He explains.

‘Oh no, what a pain, let me get you a towel. It’s really coming down to get you this wet that fast. It’s not far from the street to my front door.’ You say, stop ramberling women, you think to yourself. You run upstairs to get a towel, leaving him in the hall. You hand him the towel and he wipes his face and hair, then his neck, you simply can’t take your eyes off him. Countless thoughts are racing around your head it’s so hard to think straight.

Your heart is pounding. He must know exactly what you were thinking it’s not like you are doing a very good job of hiding it.

‘Come through to the conservatory, I’ll make you a drink, tea?, coffee?, something stronger?’ You ask.

He follows you through the house, still rubbing himself with the towel.

‘Oh, something stronger please, after the night I’ve had, it’s not like I can drive anywhere now anyway’. He says.

‘True, I guess it’s too late to ring a garage now’ you say.

He looks reluctant to sit down because he is wet, it’s OK don’t worry, sit yourself down, I’ll grab something stronger. You walk through to the kitchen and take a bottle of whisky and pour it into two glasses, your hands are shaking, your amazed you don’t spill any, you remember he said he’s phone is dead. So you find a charger. You return to the conservatory.

‘Here you go, something stronger and a phone charger, don’t know if it will fit your phone though’ you say.

‘Oh, thank you Y/N, your an angel’ He slightly brushes your fingers as you pass him the glass. You put the charger on the table.

‘I’ll check if my phone fits’.

He uses his other hand to reach into his pocket to retrieve his phone, you can’t help but follow his hand with your eyes, leading you to look at crotch. He looks at you for a second and catches you looking. He reaches to put the drink on the table and tries the charger.

‘Yeah it fits, thank you for that, the one time I don’t charge my phone and something like this happens’ he says.

‘Typical, I do that all the time, and I never learn’, You chuckle.

He takes a sip of his drink.

‘How are you finding the job? It’s been about a month now since you started?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, it’s really good actually, I like it, I’ve been after a job like that for a while now, just happened to stumble across it online, how long have you been ther?’ He asks.

‘Two years now, I absolutely love it. It’s my dream job. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, the only thing really.’ You say.

‘Wow, your lucky, you’ve always known what you’ve wanted to do, took me years to find someth-‘ He’s cut off by leaning back in the chair and knocking off your book, which falls to the floor.

‘Oh sorry,’ he picks it up off the floor and looks at the cover. You completely forgot about the spicy book. Your heart drops as he looks at the book cover,

‘What are you reading then? His smile slowly grows as he reads the title and realises the genre. He looks at you, with a huge cocky grin on his face. You don’t know what to do, other than take a big sip of your drink.He chuckles at you.

‘Oh, so this is what you read is it? You naughty girl’ You're so flustered you turn bright red.

‘A seemingly innocent office encounter takes an unexpectedly steamy turn.' He reads, smirking. The alcohol seems to give you a bit of a confidence boost, you shrug, smile and look him in the eyes.

‘Yeah, I read smut from time to time, can’t a girl-‘

You are interrupted by a huge roll of thunder, it makes you jump and causes you to spill your drink, it splashes your face and chest, then a few drops trickle down your chest between your breasts. You're frozen with shock and embarrassment, with a I can’t believe that just happened look on your face. He laughs, causing you to laugh aswell. A few of the drops of whisky have made wet spots on your low cut spaghetti top, you look down and notice your wet top.

‘Oh my god, could I embarrass myself anymore?’ You say as you put your hand on your forehead.

‘Trust me, it’s fine. You’re so cute when you’re all flustered like this. Quite impressive, you could get wet without going outside in the rain.’ He says. You laugh and reach to the table for a tissue. He reaches too and catches your hand.

‘Let me’.

Chapter 3

He moves closer to you, and wipes the top of your chest, feeling his hand so close to your skin makes you tremble, his knee touches yours and you feel the wet denim of his jeans.

'You're still soaked', you say as he looks down at your lap.

'I'm not the only one who's soaked am I baby?'

You feel a bolt shoot to your core at his words. You can't believe this is happening it all feels like a dream. You bite your lip as he starts to lean closer to you, you place your trembling hand on his wet shirt.

'I, I think you're going to have to.. take this off?' You whisper.

'Undo my buttons then'

Your eyes widen, and your hands are shaking, you start trying to unbutton his shirt but your hands are shaking so much you're struggling.

He smiles and softly chuckles.

'It's OK.' He lifts his hand and touches your face, using his thumb to wipe a drop of whisky on your cheek, you close your eyes and slightly lead your head to his hand telling him you want it. He then slides his hand throught your hair to the back of your head and sofly brings your lips to his, his lips are so soft, you slide your hands around his neck and deepen the kiss.

'Keep undoing my shirt baby.'

You undo more buttons, though your hands are still shaking, a grin appears on his lips.

'You really are worked up, aren't you?'

'Yeah, I've wanted you for so long' you almost whisper, with a tremble in your voice.

'I know'

'You do?'

'Come on, sweetheart, it's not like you did a very good job of hiding it it! Your face when you opened the door, you were practically drooling as I dried myself with that towel'.

For a split second your face dropped, feeling embarrassed and you look down. He puts his fingers under your chin and lifts your head to look into your eyes.

'It's OK baby, I feel the same too.' He says sofly and kisses you again, your heart is pounding even harder now, you're still in disbelief.

'You are so fucking hot Y/N, those skirts you wear at the office, my God, takes everything in me not to just pick you up and fuck you against to wall. You have no idea how happy I was when you opened that door, to see you in that skimpy top, and little shorts, fucking hell' he growls. You smile, so overwhelmed by passion and need, this is all you've wanted for so long, and here he is all yours. A sudden rush of confidence washes over you.

You climb into his lap, straddling him. You kiss him deeply. As he moans and slighly chuckles, you feel one of his hands slide up your back and the other to your shorts stopping just at the hem. You feel the lump his trousers growing, he starts kissing down your neck, then licks your neck and works his way down.

'Mmm, whiskey, you are spoiling me aren't you?'. You smile and drop your head back slightly, he licks up all the whisky you spilled on yourself, your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it. You feel so much heat rushing through your body to your core, you know you're getting wet. He reaches your breasts and keeps going, you moan and bite your lip.

'You like that?' He asks in a husky voice. He slides the straps down your arms, you free your arms of them and let the fabric fall down to reveal your breasts. He leans back to look at them.

'Wow, baby look at these, beautiful' He licks one of you nipples and rolls his thumb over the other. You moan loudly and tip your head back. He continues to lick your nipples, removes his hand from your other nipple and snakes it round your waist. He twists you round and leans you down so he's on top of you. He attends to the other nipple causing you to loudly moan once again. You feel your pussy throbbing and pulsing with every lick.

He starts lowering his head down your body, licking a stripe between your beasts, getting every drop of that whisky! You reach with your hand to his lower abdermon, to the very large lump in his jeans, you think he must be so uncomfortable right know, you try to sit up, and rub him through his clothes, he groans at your touch.

'Ooh, that feels good.'

You reach the top button and attempt to open it, you get yourself up and slide off the sofa, nestling yourself between his legs.

'You want to suck my cock do you baby? He asks softly.

'Oh Yeah, for so damn long.' You say licking your lips.

He sighs happily and leans back in the chair spreading his legs.

'It's all yours'.

Your mouth waters as you undo his top button and slide the zip down, he lifts up his hips as you slide down his jeans and boxers, his cock springs free.

Your eyes light up.

'Oh my God, your so big' you say completely enamored.

'Am I?' he teased.

You lick a stripe from the base to the tip, then you slowly take the head in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it. He hisses through his teeth.

'Fuck baby' he says breathlessly.

You slowly take is cock in and out of your mouth getting further and further each time, you've never had someone this big before and wonder how far you can take it down. He gently slides his hand in your hair and holds it up. you use your hand to stroke his length and twist your hand. You slowly take him down your throat further than you thought you could.

'Oh my God, that feels amazing'. He says in-between heavy breathing and soft moans. Just hearing his voice makes you want to please him more. You cup his balls in your hand and gently massage them. His whole body twitches, you look up at him, his eyes are tight shut, and his mouth is gaping open. You keep going until you feel your eyes watering. You again swirl your tongue around him and move your hand faster until you feel his legs begin to shake. You know he's getting close.

'Oh baby, I'm, I'm almost, t-there.' He stutters. You move your hands even faster and take his cock down your throat, he moans loudly and growls as he shoots his load down your throat. You swallow it all down and lick every drop. You smile as you lean back and wipe your face with your hand.

'That was, fucking incredible' he says with a very satisfied smile.

'Don't you move.' He says, looking into your eyes as he leans down and takes off his shoes and his jeans and boxers. He looks so damn hot with only his shirt on.

'Get up here, right now, I need to return the favour don't I?'

Your heart is pounding and excitement. Anticipation washing over you, you know what he's going to do. well, you think you do. You stand to go to him, but without warning, he jumps up, picks you up, and puts you on the sofa. All you can say is a loud 'Oh' and you giggle, your legs are parted, his head between them. He grins widely and stares at your shorts.

'Let's get rid of these.' He says, as he reaches for the top of your shorts and pulls them down your legs, he throws them over his shoulder. So hot. You still have your pants on, they are very wet. You feel yourself getting hot and you start to tremble. He can sence your lust and expectation. He leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his hands slide under your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze. He kisses the other thigh stopping as soon as he gets to your pants. He spends some time licking and kissing your thighs, occasionally taking a huge mouthful, slightly biting and sucking at your soft skin, deliberately avoiding your pussy. You thrust your hips up and try to grind his face but he keeps you down every time you try. He is driving you crazy. You can't stand it anymore.

'Please.' You say, breathlessly. He stops and looks up at you and laughs sadisticly.

'What was that?'

'Please, I need it' you plead in a whisper.

'I can't hear you hear you baby.' He teases.

'I need it, please.'

'You need what? Tell me what you want sweetheart.' He says sofly, with a hint of mocking.

'I- want you to.. lick my, pussy'. You say completely breathless, he has worked you up with need and desperation for any contact with your where you need it most, your head is spinning.

He licks a stripe from your opening to your clit and stops again. You moan and drop your head back, almost relaxing waiting for him to continue but he doesn't lick you again. Confused, you look up at him, before you protest he smiles at you and laughs.

'I'm sorry baby, I just love seeing you all worked up like this,' he pauses and looks at your sopping pants.

'You're absolutely soaked. Do you want me to eat you out?'

Feeling a mix of frustration and relief,

'Yes' you say almost sarcasticly.

'Yes what?'

You breathe heavily out of your nose.

'Yes, please, you bast- Oh.' Your cut off as he sucks your clit hard. Catching you completely off guard, he grabs hold of your pants and rips them off you. He plunges is mouth into your pussy, like he's been starving for years. He slides his tongue inside you, moving up and down, until he works his way to your clit and circles it slowly.

You moan loudly, audibley expressing your pleasure. Everything he does feels amazing. He flattens his wide tongue against your pussy and licks up to your clit over and over again, increasing the pressure with each perfectly paced swipe. You can feel that familiar, delicious build up in your core, he reaches to your breasts and gently massages your nipples with his fingers,

'Oh f-f-fuck' you struggle to say. Your legs are shaking almost violently. You're just on the edge about to tip over any second. He knows you're close.

'Come on my tongue baby.' He whispers.

One last stroke of his tongue on your sensitive clit sends a deep wave of pleasure crashing over you, so intense, so perfect. You cry out as you spasm and tremble. You've never had an orgasm so powerful. Your mind goes blank, and you're panting heavily as you feel yourself slowly coming down from your high. You finally gather the strength enough to speak.

'Fuck, oh my God, I've never come like that before.' You can't stop smiling, lifting your self up to look at him, He looks into your eyes and looks very pleased with himself. He gives you a wide grin and chuckles.

'You deserve it baby, seeing you come like that was absolutely amazing.'

Chapter 4

He lifts himself up still between your legs, he unbuttons the last few remaining buttons off his shirt and takes it off, while giving you a cheeky body roll, you bite your lip watching his beautiful body; his muscles flexing sends more bolts through you. He tosses his shirt over his shoulder, lifts his hips up and starts rubbing his hard cock on your entrance. You whimper lifting your hips.

'Are you ready for me Y/N?'

'Yeah, so ready'

He continues to tease your entrance, coating his cock.

'Mmm, you're so wet baby, all for me'. He slips the tip inside, pulls out and slides in again. You moan and screw your eyes shut.

'Ohhh' you cry. He then sinks his whole cock inside you, giving you that wonderful feeling of being filled. Once again, waves of pleasure course through you, only to intensify as he starts moving. He moans loudly.

'Ahh, fuck baby, you feel so good.'

'Ss-so do you'. You whisper. He snakes his hands under your ass and holds you as he thrusts, your eyes are drawn to his lower abdermon and hips. Watching him thrust in and out of you. He's hitting all the right spots, over and over again. You can't think straight, you feel so sensitive all over your body. There's nowhere else you want to be but here. The man of your dreams fucking you so attentively.

'Jesus, baby, your so fucking tight'. You bite your lip at his words he thrusts a little faster.

'Oh, f-fuck' you struggle to speak.

He lifts up one of your legs and holds on to it has he thrusts faster quickening his pace.

'You look so God damn beautiful right now, ah, ah, I love watching your tits bounce, your pussy is throbbing, you wanna come again baby?'

'Yesss'

He smiles at you and thrusts faster making you breathless.

'Yes what?'

'Ah, yess p-please.' You practically beg. He chuckles.

'Good girl' he growls, he puts his thumb in his mouth wetting it and starts rubbing your very sensitive clit.

'Aah, oh God!' Your whole body is writhing in pure ecstacy. He continues to thrust and rub, you both moan and gasp, you're both completely lost in each other. Your legs begin to shake, pussy tighting.

'You're getting close, aren't you? I can feel it.' You whimper and squeeze his thigh tight.You thought you had experienced the peak of pleasure with your last orgasm, but once again, the feeling of pure, relentless pleasure is coursing throught you, more than you ever thought possible. You're right on the edge, about to fall.

'Come for me, come on baby', he says in-between panting. He adds just a little more pressure to your clit and thrusts just a little deeper, He groans loud,

'Come for me!' He growls, deep and gravely.

'Oh God, I'm coming!' You scream as come so hard, so your whole body shakes, and tembles. He slows his thrusts and but keeps rubbing your clit, to get as much pleasure out of you as possible.

'That's it, good girl.' He praises. You pant, slowly coming down, he never stops thrusting his cock into you, he falls on top of you, and wraps his arm around you holding the back of your head.

He growls as he brings your lips to his.

'Come the fuck here, kiss me.' Crashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, snaking your hands through his hair. You love the feeling of his weight on top of you, his body is so hot.

'You felt so good coming on my cock baby' he says in-between kisses.

'Your cock feels amazing, so big.' you reply. He starts thrusting faster again, chasing his own realise. Your wrap your legs around his waist, reaching down to his ass and slap his perfect cheeks. He moans loudly. This makes him thrust even deeper and faster.

'Mmm, take it baby, take it, ah I'm gonna come.' He pants.

'Oh, yes, come inside me, please.'

He thrusts one last time, coming so deep inside you, you feel his cock pulsing. He growls and groans as he buries his head into your neck. You let out a long soft moan, full of contentment. He lifts his head up and kisses you slowly and softly. You both smile and laugh.

'Fucking hell, that was, just..'

'Something else.' You finish his sentence.

'Yeah, you did so well baby.' He praises.

'You were pretty good yourself'.

He laughs and lifts himself up, he quickly cleans you up and you both just snuggle into eachother, coming back down to earth.

The next thing you know you wake up still in-twined on the sofa. He looks so beautiful sleeping. You slowly untangle yourself from his limp body, and walk to your bedroom to find your dressing gown. The sexy silk one of course!

You make coffee for you both and bring it to him, he's awake when you return.

'Good morning, beautifu.l' He says with a very big smile on his face when he sees you.

'Good morning handsome.' You reply, as you hand him his coffee.

'Oh, thank you. Last night was just incredible Y/N, honestly best fuck of my life'. You can't help but smile widely.

'So far' you giggle. 'Me too, it was like a dream,' you continue, knowing it was a corney thing to say but you don't care.You walk towards the sofa and tread on something.

'Oh look, your phone and charger you never charged it'.

'Oh yeah, forgot all about that, well I got rather... distracted' He says as his eyes travel up you body.

'I'll do it later, I'm no rush to go anywhere. Right.' He says as he stands up grabs you, picking you up and swings you into his arms bridal style.

'Oh!' You gasp and giggle. He flashes you a smile.

'What? You think I'm anywhere near done with you? Now, where the fuck is your bedroom?'

The End

Hope you enjoyed 😉

18+ only. I’m looking for a long-term, literate partner who wants a dark ERP built on revenge, not on romance and not on a payout. The fantasy is simple and ugly: two women who thought money made them untouchable, finally forced to swallow what they did. I want humiliation with teeth, class resentment, and a man who does not forgive them just because they are pretty, polished, or rich. He is not here to be bought. If you want a soft redemption arc, a tender love story hiding under the blackmail, or a gardener who can be silenced with a check, this is not that post. I want Tamara and Ashley brought down in their own house, used, embarrassed, and reminded that the fortune does not protect them from someone who has proof and wants to watch them break. You don’t need a novel every time, but one-liners kill the mood for me.

I want to play Tamara. A woman of humble origins whose first marriage left her in pieces. Then George arrived, an old, wealthy man who pulled her and her daughter Ashley, who is twenty-two, out of poverty. For years the two of them lived off him without much effort: the beautiful house, the money, the easy cruelty of women who had finally climbed high enough to look down on everyone else. George discovered the hidden affair. When he threatened to leave Tamara without a dollar, she made sure that didn’t happen. Now the inheritance is hers, the house is hers, and Ashley is still under her roof, just as spoiled and just as sure that nothing can touch them. It should be easy. It isn’t. The gardener has proof. Not rumors: evidence of what Tamara did and of the life both women were living before George died. He hasn’t gone to the police. He does not want money. He wants to humiliate them.

That’s where I want to start. You would play the gardener, or another man who ends up holding that leverage: a lawyer, a private investigator, someone from her past. She has the money and the house. He has the secret, and he is not interested in selling it back to her. I want revenge. I want those two rich bitches humiliated in their own home, stripped of the dignity they bought with someone else’s fortune, forced into bargains that exist only to degrade them. Tamara thought she had won. Ashley thinks she is still protected by her mother’s new money. I want both of them corrected.

The tone I’m after is dark, adult, and vicious under the surface. Tamara is calculating, not cartoon-evil, which makes it better when she starts losing. Ashley is twenty-two, used to comfort, used to being shielded, and old enough to be dragged into the same mess. The gardener is rude, blunt, with dirt on his hands and little interest in being charming. He can be patient, bitter, unexpectedly sharp, as long as he feels like a real threat and not a man who will melt the moment one of them cries or offers him a number. I’m interested in the contrast between their new-money life and the man who knows every corner of the property and holds a file that could ruin them. We can let him insert himself into the house, put Ashley in the room instead of leaving her off-page, make Tamara watch her daughter lose the same arrogance she taught her, or let the two women turn on each other once the pressure gets ugly. I write in first or third person, past or present; I’ll match you. What I need is for the house, the garden, and the humiliation in a room to actually exist.

This plot has room for revenge, blackmail used as a weapon rather than a price list, power imbalance, the public and private humiliation of two “respectable” rich women, secrets, moral decay, dubcon that grows out of leverage rather than a random assault, and verbal degradation. Hard limits: no scat, no extreme gore as the focus of a scene. Everything else we can discuss before we start.

Tamara stands at the upstairs glass wall dressed like a woman who has decided the house belongs to her. She wears an ivory silk shirt, opaque, fastened to the throat with a small pearl pin George gave her one ordinary winter and that she kept because it goes with everything. It is tucked into pale, tailored trousers with a slow fall, and on her feet there are only low slippers of nude leather, clean, without a heel. Her dark hair is caught in a loose low knot, two strands left at her neck more from habit than from coquetry. At her ears, simple pearls. At her wrist, a thin watch. No ribbon, no open robe, nothing that would make her look like a guest late out of bed. It is the kind of elegance that does not ask permission: quiet fabrics, precise cuts, luxury kept low on purpose so that anyone who enters understands at once who is in charge.

Between her fingers, a porcelain cup. The emerald knocks once against the glass when she leans in. She studies the garden the way other women study a drawing room before guests arrive: to see if something is out of place.

She sees him.

The gardener is still between the beds, not bent to work, not covered by any honest excuse. He is staring. Not the quick glance of a man measuring shade or waiting for an order. He looks too long, too directly, with the insistence a man in service is not allowed toward the mistress of the house. Tamara feels her jaw tighten. The shirt is not indecent. He is. It is the way those eyes rest on the far side of the glass as if the house were still George’s and she were a presence to be studied. A servant ought to drop his gaze. He ought to go back to the soil. Instead he stays there, rude, unmoving, with the face of a man who remembers too much. What rises in her is a clean nausea, the nausea of new money: the idea that a man with dirt under his nails would dare to cross the glass and take a familiarity that does not belong to him.

She has never been able to stand that man. George, for some reason she always found pathetic, kept him on. “He works well,” he used to say. “He knows this land.” Tamara heard something else in it: the weakness of an old man who grows fond of whoever answers softly and lets him believe he is still master. She, risen from hunger to that window, has always seen the gardener as a leftover. Junk from the marriage that came before her real life. One of those things old men refuse to throw away out of sentiment, like pipes, worn coats, dogs that smell. George is gone. The house has a new sovereign. It is time to clean.

She sets the cup down with a hard click on the console under the window. She smooths her collar, not because it is creased, but to go downstairs the way a woman goes down to give an order. The slippers barely sound on the landing. The staircase is wide, pale, ridiculous in its morning solemnity. Tamara takes it without hurry, because mistresses do not run after servants: they arrive. With every step that small, mean pleasure grows in her, the pleasure she gets from correcting the world. Ashley is still asleep upstairs, twenty-two years shut in a room that smells of new perfume, and Tamara already thinks of telling her later that they have kept George’s people too long. She tucks a strand behind her ear, checks that the pin is straight, and tries on the smile she means to use: not loud, not cheap. The smile of a woman about to fire someone.

She crosses the sitting room, opens the glass door at the back, and garden air meets her, warm, smelling of wet earth and a fresh cut. He is still there. He has not had the sense to vanish. Tamara stops on the threshold, the shirt still composed on her body, the trousers immaculate even at that hour, and looks down at him from the first stone step as if he were a piece of furniture due to be carried out. Enough, she thinks, and the word tastes like a crown. Enough of eyes that stay too long. Enough of the men George found useful. Enough of the old man’s rubbish. This is her house now, and the gardener is the last thing to throw away. She comes off the step and walks toward him over the gravel with the short, decided stride of a woman who still believes she can close a matter in two sentences. She does not know, or will not know, that he has not been looking at her as a servant. He has been looking at her as a man who has an envelope, and who has not come to apologize.

Rachel froze in place as she watched Noah rush down the hallway. It didn't feel like she was awake. She hoped that it was all a dream, one Rachel desperately wanted to wake up from. She looked back at the party guests, relieved to see they were beginning to exit the apartment. That took care of one problem at least, she could only handle so much embarrassment in one night. 

God, the embarrassment. Why did she think it was a good idea to explore this in front of a crowd? Rachel wondered if she'd taken things too far and ruined the evening for everyone. They just wanted to have a good time. She didn't have to participate in the balloon game. No, in fact, she shouldn't have. She should have stayed by Noah's side and spent the evening laughing with him. Rachel shook her head in frustration, quickly following after Noah while the four began putting the apartment back in order. 

Stupid. It was all so stupid. She should've been more attentive to Noah, she should have done a better job reading the room. 

And she shouldn't have gotten so lost in Jack's eyes. 

Rachel's heart fluttered as she recalled that moment, but it was a thought she stuffed down quickly. Jack meant nothing to Rachel. That moment meant nothing, it was just a game.

Rachel tried to focus, opening several bedroom doors until she finally found Noah in a barren guest room. He was huddled in a corner, arms wrapped around his legs with his head buried between them. It broke Rachel's heart to see him like that.

"Hey," Rachel said, walking over to Noah's side and sitting next to him. Noah didn't respond, and that didn't surprise her. She allowed silence to hang in the room for a while. After all, it wasn't like Rachel even had the words to say. This was all new territory for her. It was confusing, messy, and exciting. But at the end of the day, what Rachel wanted more than anything, was Noah. 

She slowly wrapped her arm around his and to her relief, felt him interlock his fingers with hers. He raised his head and looked at her, but still didn't say anything. Rachel smiled before taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry if it went too far," Rachel said. 

"You… you don't need to be sorry. We both said it was ok. I…" Noah was struggling to put his words together. Rachel could feel his body trembling as he spoke. 

"We don't need to talk about it right now. It's ok," She said, gently squeezing his hand tightly. "We don't even have to stay here, everyone is leaving. Do you want to get going?" 

"I don't think I can right now… I… I think I need a little bit more time before…" Noah's words trailed off. His lip began to tremble. A few tears trickled down his cheeks as he turned his head away from her. Rachel felt absolutely gutted. 

"I'm so sorry. We don't ever have to do this again, I promise." Rachel meant every word she said. Seeing Noah this way made her determined to ensure it never happened again. She would not be the reason for his sadness, that much she was absolutely sure of.

"That's not what I want…" Noah answered. Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"But... look at how upset it made you. This isn't healthy if it makes you this miserable Noah," Rachel said. Noah's eyes closed in concentration.

"I know it's a lot… I know I'm being a lot right now, and I'm sorry. But I don't want to mess things up. I don't want to ruin things for us," Noah said. 

"Noah, you're not ruining anything," Rachel replied. Noah instinctively turned and wrapped his arms around her. Their angling on the floor made it awkward, but Rachel happily returned his embrace. She buried her face into his neck, holding him as tightly as she could.

"I'm sorry…" Noah said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Rachel replied. They held each other for a long time, only breaking when they heard clattering dishes from the main room. Relieved to find that some of Noah's composure was coming back to him, Rachel rubbed his arm and smiled.

"You ready to go?" Rachel asked. 

"I think I'm still going to need some time…" Noah replied. 

"Of course, we can sit here for as long as you need." 

"No, I think I need some time alone," Noah said. The answer made Rachel's heart race, but she did her best not to show it. With a leveled smile, Rachel stood. 

"Of course, take all the time you need. I'll be in the living room when you're ready, ok?" 

"Ok…" Noah said softly. He didn't look at her when he said it, and Rachel didn't push him any further. It was going to be alright, she knew that. The best thing she could do for Noah was to give him the space he needed.

At least. That's what she wanted to be true. But as she walked to the kitchen, she wondered if any of this was alright. Rachel turned the corner, surprised to find Jack alone, putting dishes away in his modern, white kitchen. He slung a towel over his shoulder and looked at her.

"How's he doing?" Jack asked.

"He's... alright," Rachel said. She peered out into the living room, surprised to find it completely empty. "Where is everyone?" She asked. 

"The guys cleared them out, and then I let them know it was probably best if they cleared out too. Considering how everything went down, I figured you and Noah would appreciate it," Jack said. Rachel nodded, walking into the kitchen slowly. As she did, the shock of what happened began to hit her.

"T-that's good," Rachel struggled to keep her composure.

"You alright?" Jack asked. Rachel couldn't hold back the tears, as much as she wanted to. They streamed down her face as she let out a frustrated laugh. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry… I'm fine it's just… I feel like I ruined everything." 

"Hey, it's alright," Jack said softly. He stepped towards Rachel, opening his arms as he did. Rachel stepped into them, happy to feel his warm and caring embrace. She always knew Jack was a good man, despite what others had said, and this one moment of comfort was exactly what she needed.

"This is so embarrassing," Rachel said with a weak laugh, Jack squeezed her tightly. Rachel's face buried into his chest. She could smell the mixture of alcohol and cologne on this dress shirt.

"There's no need to be embarrassed. Shit happens." 

"I'm just… I'm just afraid I'm going to lose him over something stupid," Rachel said. She felt Jack's hand trail up her back. 

It felt… good. Her heart began to race, and instinctively, Rachel slowly pulled away from him. As she did, Jack's arms dropped to her hips.

They stared at one another. It felt strange to Rachel that, just moments ago, this man had been dry-humping her in front of her boyfriend. It was almost comedic, actually, how much those two versions of Jack contrasted each other.

"You're not going to lose him over something like this, I promise," Jack assured her. His hand began to slowly trail up the side of her waist. Despite Rachel knowing it was wrong, she let Jack explore her.

Jack's hand continued upward, coming dangerously close to her chest. 

"What are you doing?' Rachel asked. Jack didn't answer. Instead, his hand slid over her breast and squeezed it tightly, causing Rachel to moan. 

"Never thought they'd feel this good," Jack said. He began to lean in for a kiss. Rachel immediately turned her head. 

"Stop!" Rachel whispered. She stepped away from Jack, leaning against the kitchen countertop. Rachel took a deep breath and tried to get her bearings. What the hell had just happened? She stared at the floor, not daring to look back at Jack. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

"Sorry, that was shitty of me," Jack said. 

"It was," Rachel confirmed, fixing her hair and shaking her head. "I'm with Noah." 

"I know." 

"I love him." 

"I know," Jack ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a long sigh. "I know you do." 

The two fell silent once more, Rachel took the opportunity to try and calm her nerves. Before long, she heard footsteps coming from the hall. She glanced up, spotting Noah as he entered the kitchen. His hair was a disheveled mess, a look complimented by the oversized suit he still wore. Despite knowing how much Noah hated the suit, Rachel couldn't help but find it adorable on him.

"Hey," She said softly. Noah didn't respond. Instead, his eyes shifted to Jack, suspicion pouring over him as he assessed the situation for what seemed like ages. 

"Did you kiss her?" He asked. Jack shook his head. 

"No," He replied shortly. Rachel felt a wave of guilt in her chest. She wondered if she should speak up and clarify that he had touched her without him there. Did that matter? Would it make any difference one way or the other? Noah was already so upset, and it didn't mean anything. Noah spoke before Rachel could make a decision. 

"Are you sure you didn't kiss her?" He asked again. Jack looked at Noah curiously. 

"... Did you want me to?" he asked Noah. Rachel froze, terrified that one wrong word might send Noah spiraling once again. She stared at him, wondering what he wanted out of this moment. 

It didn't have to be this way, Rachel knew that. Noah didn't have to put up with any of this, and neither did she.

"It's ok, Noah. I would never kiss him without you knowing," She said softly. Noah looked at her, eyes glossed over and expressionless. She smiled at him, hoping it might brighten his spirits, but he didn't smile back. 

"Do… do you want to kiss him?" Noah asked her. Rachel felt her cheeks flush. She adjusted her hair as a weak laugh escaped her. Rachel glanced at Jack, who remained remarkably calm despite the situation. 

"I don't know… I thought we were just having fun. I don't want to do anything that you aren't comfortable with." Rachel felt her heart racing. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know what the right answer was.

"It's ok, you can tell me the truth," Noah said weakly.

"That is the truth, this isn't about what I want, it's about what we want. We don't have to stay here, you know, we can leave right now if that would make you feel better." Rachel said.

"But you'd kiss him if I was cool with it," Noah said. Rachel frowned.

"That... doesn't seem like a fair question."

Noah's eyes slanted at those words. He shot a death stare at Jack. 

"She isn't your girlfriend," He said coldly. 

"Believe me, I know," Jack replied. 

"She would never cheat on me, ever." Noah was doing his best to sound strong, and Rachel commended him for that. Still, his delivery was wavery, and far from believable. As much as Rachel hated to admit it, she found Noah's grandstanding as embarrassing as it was charming.

As confusing as it was direct.

As disrespectful as it was honoring.

"I know that, trust me, I'm not trying to get between you two. Believe it or not, I actually do like you guys," Jack said with a smile. It sounded authentic to Rachel, and she was relieved when she saw Noah's shoulders relax.

"Good, because moving forward, if you're going to kiss her, it has to be in front of me and only me." Noah's words dropped like a bomb. Rachel stared, dumbfounded. It was the last thing she had expected him to say. She looked over at Jack, who appeared just as surprised.

"W-wait, I just want to make sure I'm understanding you right. Are you… asking me to kiss her right now?" He asked. 

Rachel watched Noah carefully, this was a side of him she had never seen before. A passion welled in his eyes, a mixture of excitement and anger that she couldn't quite understand. He had to know she wouldn't do it without his permission, that she was interested in him and only him. Despite the butterflies she felt in her stomach when she looked at Jack, she would never dream of–

"We're all here, you might as well do what you want," Noah said. His voice was trembling, Rachel couldn't understand why he wanted something that clearly bothered him so much.

"Noah, it's not just about what we want, it's about what you want too," Rachel said with as much temperance as she could muster. "What do you want?"

Noah paused, that was good, at least it meant he was thinking things through.

"I want this," He said. It was a soft response, but Rachel could tell it was an authentic answer. So that was it, Noah had confirmed it, he wanted to see Jack kiss her. She wasn't sure what she expected to hear, or even how Noah's answer would make her feel.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack turn to her and step forward.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked. Noah nodded.

"I am," He answered. Rachel took a deep breath, then turned to face Jack. As soon as they locked eyes, she felt her heartbeat in her ears.

"You ok with this?" Jack asked her. She already knew the answer before Jack even asked it. She looked over at Noah, who finally smiled at her warmly. That was all she needed to know it would be alright. 

"Yes," She said softly. Jack didn't hesitate to take his chance, his hand gently wrapped around her neck and pulled her in close. He kissed her deeply, Rachel felt her full lips press against his as Jack's free arm wrapped around her waist tightly. She let out a gasp as her breasts pushed against his chest. She shivered as Jack's hands trailed along her sides. 

They slipped low, squeezing her plump ass as his tongue pushed into her mouth. Rachel had to admit, Jack kissed well. Very well. He smelled amazing also, he felt amazing. Her mind flooded with desire as she felt his bulge press against her. Jack lifted her onto the countertop, continuing to kiss her with eager passion. Rachel spread her legs, wrapping them around Jack's waist as his hands cradled the back of her head, and his lips trailed down her neck. 

Rachel had a clear view of Noah, the two staring at one another as Jack explored her body. Noah appeared to be as transfixed as Jack was, and the large bulge in his pants seemed to indicate he was enjoying the show. Rachel smiled at him, trying her best to show Noah that they were in this together. That they were both participants in this experiment. Noah seemed to understand, smiling back as he watched Jack's hands slide up to Rachel's breasts and squeeze them tightly. 

Rachel let out a soft moan, a moan cut off as Jack pressed his lips against hers once more. He played with her nipples through her thin dress, sending waves of pleasure through her as their pace began to quicken. 

Rachel was beginning to lose herself in it. She wondered how far this was going to go.

She wondered if Jack was going to explore her further.

If Noah wanted Jack to–

Jack's hands trailed down to her thighs, slowly sliding underneath her dress as his tongue thrust into her mouth.

Rachel shivered in anticipation. Excitement and anxiety mixed with the carnal desire overtaking her mind. She wanted Jack, she wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted to know what it would be like to have sex with another man. 

His fingers were only inches away from her pussy, they pulled at her lacy underwear. Rachel broke her kiss with Jack and leaned her head against his, digging her nails into his back as his fingers slid over her wet entrance, before finally plunging deep inside her.

Rachel instinctively thrust forward, moaning as she felt Jack's fingers begin to thrust in and out of her. Euphoria flooded her mind, she felt as though she was living in a dream. Her eyes opened as Jack's free hand gripped onto her hip. As he finger fucked her with increasing roughness.

And her gaze fell on Noah.

He watched them silently, seemingly lost in his own world as Jack began to pull Rachel's dress straps from her shoulders.

Rachel's dress fell, exposing her perky breasts. Jack leaned down and latched his lips around her nipple, licking it softly as his fingers continued their smooth tempo. Rachel's nails trailed up and down Jack's back, and as he began to find her G-spot, Rachel began to eagerly counterthrust against him.

Jack's fingers plunged deeper. Rachel's back arched as her legs began to quiver. Jack bit her nipple softly, and Rachel felt herself tip over the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist as she threw her head back in ecstasy.

"Oh Jack!" Rachel shouted, feeling herself coming close to climaxing.

"That's enough!" Noah shouted in the background. Rachel and Jack didn't stop immediately, his fingers lingered while her legs slowly unwrapped from his waist. With a tremendous amount of effort, Rachel leaned away from Jack, her finger trailing down his chest as Jack reluctantly stepped away from her.

Without a doubt, that was one of the hottest things Rachel had ever done. She took a deep breath, looking at Noah while she did her best to collect herself. She wanted to say something, or at least, felt like she should. But Rachel had no idea what to say. Her eyes bounced between Jack and Noah. Both of them seemed just as lost as she was. 

Jack slowly began fixing his shirt while he cleared his throat. 

"That uh… that was pretty fun," He said calmly. He didn't look at either of them, and neither of them replied immediately. 

"Yeah…" Noah said. 

"We're… we're all good though, right? All three of us?" Jack asked. 

"Yeah, we're good. I-I'm sorry about… well about before…" Noah shook his head. "This is all new for me. It's… weird." 

"It's new for me, too." Rachel chimed in. 

"Believe it or not, it's new for me also. I've never really done anything like this…" Jack laughed nervously, which Rachel found oddly comforting seeing a person under all that wealth and status. 

"I… I think it's best if we head home," Noah said.

"I agree," Rachel said, sliding off the kitchen countertop and adjusting her dress. She walked over to Noah and grabbed his arm before glancing down at his giant bulge, surprised by how much it turned her on.

"So like… what happens next?" Jack asked. 

"Let's leave that for another time," Noah replied shortly. Jack quickly nodded as he adjusted his shirt sleeves. 

"Right, of course. Be sure to talk to the front desk when you head down. They will arrange a ride for you to get home," Jack said. 

"Thanks," Noah led Rachel to the elevator door, and she happily followed behind him. Her senses were returning to her as they stepped through the metal doors.

As her mind replayed the ways Jack had touched her while Noah watched.

Elijah closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

He could hear them starting up again, christened by Evelyn's soft, breathless moan. A sharp gasp followed. Then the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin.

Elijah checked his phone.

3:14 a.m.

They had been going for hours now, but Elijah had lost the exact count. Time collapsed into the sound of Evelyn’s voice. That velvety voice. It rose in short-lived peaks before crashing into valleys of silence. As the night had dragged on, Evelyn’s song grew softer.

Elijah stared at the phone’s screen until it dimmed to black. He set it face down on his leg and shifted on the hallway’s hard tile floor. They were cold beneath him. But even their chill couldn't extinguish the burning he felt in his chest. A sensation that he didn’t want to name.

Their pace began to quicken once more. Elijah clenched his teeth.

He hadn’t expected it to last this long. He’d anticipated a repeat of his first night with Evelyn and the old couple. Nothing more than a few minutes of moans, awkward thrusting, and a quick exit. But this?

This was relentless.

He curled one hand into a fist as his other adjusted the rock-hard bulge in his pants.

“Say it again,” Ivan’s smug voice rang out through the bedroom door. “Say it while I fuck you.”

*“*I love your cock so much,” Evelyn cooed.

Elijah flinched.

He didn’t want to hear more. But he didn’t reach for his headphones either. He could’ve, they were still in his pocket. He could’ve played something loud enough to drown them out. He could've gone into another room and played a game until they were finished.

But he didn’t.

Because she had asked him to stay.

So instead, he stared blankly at the floor, heart in his throat, as Evelyn moaned something unintelligible as Ivan took her.

She sounded hot when she fucked. The way she cried out, the way her voice cracked, the way she became breathless after a hard slap. Like she was unraveling from the inside. Listening to her fall apart for someone else made Elijah’s cock throb.

And Ivan… Elijah was surprised at his confidence. He spoke as if she were his and only his. There was no hesitation in his words, and each was as biting as the last.

“Look at me. Don’t fucking look away.”

“You like this cock, don’t you?”

“Moan for me when you cum.”

Elijah’s stomach knotted.

Was this what Evelyn liked? Was this what turned her on?

A man who could go for hours without stopping. A man who didn’t ask for permission. Who fucked like it was the only thing that mattered.

What if Elijah couldn’t give her that?

He exhaled through his nose in an attempt to ease his shakes.

Maybe Val had been right.

“Pretty girls like that know how to play people,” she’d said. Elijah had written it off as Val’s usual protectiveness at the time.

But now…

Now he sat in a cold hallway of a wealthy man's home. Listening to Evelyn call Ivan’s name in the next room over.

Elijah couldn't help but feel small.

Ivan had everything. Money. Looks. Confidence. He didn’t have to try. He just had to exist, and women like Evelyn flocked to him.

Elijah couldn’t help but compare himself to the impossible standard. Perhaps that’s why she had no problem fucking Ivan and not himself.

A creak of the bedframe snapped his thoughts in half. Then the dull, repeating sound.

Smack smack smack

The moan that followed made Elijah’s skin prickle.

“Oh my god, don’t stop…” Evelyn’s voice was shaky and slurred.

Smack smack smack smack

Their pace quickened and grew louder.

Elijah's cock stirred in his pants, begging for a release. He swallowed hard. Embarrassed by his own arousal.

He shouldn’t be hard. He shouldn’t want this. He closed his eyes and listened to her voice. The way she pleaded, the way she sobbed out Ivan’s name…

“Fuck, Ivan…  right there… oh my god!”

It hit Elijah like a hard wall.

She cried out over and over.

Screaming it like she belonged to him.

Elijah squeezed his eyes tightly. His chest ached. He tried to remind himself what Evelyn had said — that she wanted him to be there. That he was special. That this was for him.

"Jesus! Ivan! Ivan!!"

Ivan…

Elijah was special...

.

.

Right?

.

.

Another cry. Louder than the last.

The air felt thicker now. Each noise that came from that bedroom wrapped itself around Elijah, tugging him toward the door even as his brain screamed for him to stay away.

He couldn’t stop picturing her. Legs spread. Eyes closed. Ivan’s hands on her throat. Her mouth hung open as she begged for his cock.

Elijah's fists clenched again.

A low, shameful ache pulsed beneath his skin.

He wanted to be the one who made her moan like that.

He wanted to see her when she came.

No, he needed to see her.

And in a flash of heated desire, his curiosity, hot and terrible, finally won.

Elijah rose slowly, tiptoing on the hallway carpet, making his way over to the bedroom door.

It was wide open; they hadn't bothered to close it.

He pressed his palm to the frame. His heart jackhammered in his chest as he peeked into the bedroom.

Then he saw it.

Evelyn was on all fours, arms stretched long across the bed, her face pressed down on the mattress. She raised her ass high, back dipped into a sinful arch.

And Ivan was behind her. Hands locked around her hips, fucking her with deliberate, forceful thrusts.

His muscles flexed with effort, sweat dripping down his chest and arms. His pace was brutal, steady, unrelenting. The sound of their clapping flesh echoed in the quiet room like a drumbeat.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Evelyn’s body jolted with each impact. Her breasts swayed beneath her. Her ass rippled with every thrust. Elijah’s eyes followed the curve of her slick thighs, trailing upwards to her chest,

stopping at her face.

And as if she could sense him, Evelyn’s eyes opened, catching his gaze.

Half-lidded and glazed, Evelyn smiled softly.

“Hi…” she mouthed, barely audible over Ivan’s ragged grunts.

Elijah’s lungs forgot how to work as warmth spilled over his chest.

Ivan grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked Evelyn upwards. Her body snapped back into place, back arched even deeper now, her face tipped toward the ceiling.

“Fucking tight little thing,” Ivan growled, panting. “You gonna cum again for me?”

Elijah couldn’t move.

He was hard. Painfully so. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants, each pulse in sync with the rhythm of their bodies. He tried to adjust himself, but it didn’t help.

He watched Ivan drive into Evelyn with sharp, punishing strokes. Evelyn screamed in pleasure.

But her eyes never left Elijah.

Even as her arms shifted forward, her fingers curling against the sheets like a stretching cat.

Even as Ivan’s thrusts grew erratic, as sweat rolled down his back, as the wet slap of bodies filled the room like thunder.

Evelyn watched him, smiling as though it was the happiest moment of her life.

That smile hit Elijah harder than anything Ivan could’ve said. It was like her whole body lit up just from seeing him. Even being used, fucked, and trembling beneath another man, she was his.

It didn’t make sense. But it didn’t have to.

Elijah felt it, this feeling between them he couldn't name. An unspoken connection that wrapped around his chest and pulled tightly.

He didn’t understand it. But it was real.

And then their gaze was broken by Ivan's fingers closing around Evelyn’s throat.

He choked her softly, leaning down and biting her shoulder.

Then, slowly, Ivan turned his head and locked eyes with Elijah, a wicked grin forming on his face.

Elijah didn’t move.

He couldn't move.

Ivan's gaze was steady, unblinking, and sharp with recognition.

Elijah couldn't help but feel like he'd been caught doing something deplorable. He wanted to disappear. To melt into the doorway and disappear into the hallway. But it was too late.

Ivan didn’t stop thrusting.

He was panting, sweat dripping down his back as he kept pounding into Evelyn’s slowly. Every thrust made her body shift forward as her soft sounds spilled from her half-open lips.

“Didn’t I tell him not to look?” Ivan asked Evelyn, speaking through heavy breaths.

Evelyn turned her eyes away.

Elijah kept silent.

“I said,” Ivan growled, “didn’t I tell him not to look?”

Evelyn shivered beneath him as he pulled her onto his cock.

“…Yes. You did,” she said.

Ivan smirked.

“Well. Guess that means I have to show him why he should’ve just stayed in the hallway.”

He slowly pulled out of Evelyn's swollen pussy, cock glossy with her arousal, and guided Evelyn off the bed by her hips. She followed him without resistance, moving gracefully to her knees as if it was scripted.

Elijah watched as Ivan took a handful of her hair and pressed his cock against her lips.

She opened them without hesitation.

Elijah watched Ivan's glossy shaft slowly enter Evelyn's mouth. She let out a muffled moan, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock. Evelyn braced herself on his thigh as she began to bob her head gently. Her dark lashes fluttered as she slowly swallowed more of Ivan's length with each motion.

“You know what’s funny?” Ivan said, still looking at Elijah.

He pulled Evelyn's head back, his slick cock sliding out of her open mouth. He slapped it over her face, and Evelyn kept her mouth open in response, her tongue licking his manhood with every thrust.

“She doesn’t have to do this,” he said. “That’s the crazy part. She makes more than enough money online. Between the clips, the messages, the sponsorships…”

He gripped his cock and slapped it lightly against Evelyn’s cheek. Her lips stayed open.

“…She chooses to do this.”

Another slap, across her other cheek.

“She wants this. She wants to be on her knees, getting her throat ruined, with you standing there like a fucking extra.”

He looked Elijah dead in the eye.

“You’re not here because she loves you. You’re here because she likes the idea of you watching. You’re playing a part, you are a toy, and that's all you'll ever be.”

Elijah’s chest tightened.

He looked at Evelyn. Part of him still expected her to protest. To confirm what he believed to be true.

That she wanted him here.

That he mattered.

That they meant something.

But nothing came.

Evelyn moaned as she pushed forward, taking Ivan back into her mouth. She gripped him harder now, sloppier, spit bubbling around the edges of her lips. Her throat flexed with each push forward. Ivan’s hand curled in her hair, holding her head in place.

Elijah felt hairline fractures spread across his heart.

He stopped breathing.

Her eyes flicked over to him once, and upon seeing his expression, she did a double-take.  

Then hesitated.

Her mouth slipped off Ivan's cock slowly, lips glistening, chin soaked. She looked up at him with a familiar softness and vulnerability in her eyes.

Ivan thrust his cock forward, undeterred.

“I didn’t say to stop,” he said sharply.

Evelyn slowly looked at Ivan, then back at Elijah.

A long beat passed.

Elijah watched, tense and hopeful. Maybe she was about to protest. About to get up, walk to Elijah, and leave with him.

Then Ivan leaned in, brushing the wet hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek. Gentle and affectionate.

“I didn’t say stop,” he said again, quieter.

She looked up at him, then gave Elijah one final glance.

She smiled, closed her eyes, and slowly, obediently, wrapped her lips back around his cock.

Ivan groaned. Elijah's body shook.

Ivan placed both hands behind her head and began to thrust forward.

Controlled. Purposeful. Possessive.

Evelyn gagged softly as he pushed himself deep into her throat. She held onto his thighs, breath catching between strokes. Ivan pulled out, dragging spit and precum down her chin, then pushed back in again. Deeper. Harder.

He tilted his head toward Elijah and smiled.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice cool. “Keep watching. We both know the role you signed up for… and you’re doing great.”

Elijah didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

He just stood there, motionless, as Evelyn took another deep thrust, then another, moaning weakly as her throat opened for Ivan again and again. Every time she pulled back for air, Ivan guided her right back down his shaft.

It was a hypnotic display of sexual skill that Elijah never thought he'd see in person.

And it aroused him in a way he couldn’t understand.

He should’ve looked away. Should’ve walked out. But he didn’t. He just stared, cock hard in his pants, every breath shallow.

Eventually, Ivan groaned and pulled Evelyn up roughly, dragging her back to the bed. He turned her, laid her on her back, and slid inside her in one slow thrust.

Evelyn moaned sharply, arching beneath him.

She tried to look over at Elijah again, but Ivan caught her jaw with his hand.

“No,” he said, almost tender as he pulled her gaze back to him. “Eyes on me.”

And then he kissed her. Deeply. Passionately.

Elijah watched their tongues wrap together, watched their hips find a steady rhythm. Watched as their slow, grinding strokes made Evelyn moan into his mouth.

She looked… different now.

Her fingers curled into the sheets. Her toes pointed. Her moans grew softer, more rhythmic. Less performative.

She looked like she was melting into him.

She looked like she loved it.

And Elijah believed it.

So there it was. Ivan was right. Evelyn didn’t need this. She never did.

She wanted it.

She wanted Ivan. Not because of money. Not because of some act. Because she liked it. Because she liked being taken, used, and fucked.

And she knew Elijah couldn't give her that.

And maybe that was the point all along.

.

“Pretty girls like that know how to play people."

.

The words rang through Elijah's head as he stepped back from the doorway slowly.

He leaned against the wall, cold marble biting through his shirt, and slid down until he hit the floor.

The chill spread into his skin. He shifted onto the carpet, curling into the center of the hallway where it was warmer. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ceiling.

He was pathetic.

Any normal person would’ve left by now. Would’ve walked out, blocked her number, and burned the memory out of their mind.

But he didn’t.

Because he remembered her voice and that smile.

“Will you stay?”

It hadn’t been casual. It hadn’t been sexy. It was a real plea. So naked and vulnerable that it made Elijah's chest hurt.

She never pretended to be more than she was. She never expected him to stay.

Because no other men ever did.

She didn’t beg. She didn’t manipulate. She just asked.

And he’d said yes.

Because he wasn’t like other men.

He could take it.

He wanted to, and that had to mean something.

Right?

The sounds in the bedroom grew quieter. Softer. Evelyn’s moans now sounded small, swallowed into Ivan’s skin.

There were no more taunts. Just the slow thud of bodies, the creak of the bed, and the occasional gasp between breaths.

Elijah let his eyes flutter shut.

His cock still throbbed in his pants, uncomfortable and swollen.

He didn’t touch it.

He just lay there. On the carpet. Exhausted in the dim lamplights.

Eventually, the fatigue overtook him.

And he fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Evelyn being taken.

Mike and Claire of the town of Eastwood in the West were really famous for how both of them were complete opposites. They were the couple that no one could even suspect would date each other. 

Claire was a bright child, thin and blonde. She got accepted into the S-University, a prestigious institute famous for having an alumni network of CEOs, Prime Ministers, and Billionaires. 

Mike, on the other hand, was an athlete famous for his streak of tournaments he went into. He went to a total of twenty-three tournaments, and his record is losing in all twenty-three of them. 

And then there is Sam, Mike's rival player and his best friend. Sam is everything that Mike wants to be: Rich, Respected and an athlete with a record of twenty-four winning streaks. Sam got selected for the National Boxing Team.

Claire left for S-University, and it's been over a year since both of them met. They were in contact throughout the year, but recently Claire has started to invest less and less in Mike. Mike suspects something but quickly puts this thought in the trash. He has been keeping a secret from Claire for over a year now. 

With a letter in hand, Mike was standing in front of the gate of S-University. He went to the administration block and handed over his acceptance letter to the receptionist there. After some paperwork, the receptionist handed him the keys to his hostel room.

Mike picked up his briefcase with his left hand, and a bouquet of roses was in his right hand. He scratched the back of his neck before speaking. "May I ask you something?"

The receptionist, a woman in her late thirties, lifted her gaze toward Mike with slight interest. " Yes, what is it?"

"I want to know about a senior here, Claire from the Business Department," Mike asked with a blush.

The receptionist giggled, looking at Mike, and her fingers were now running on the keyboard. Thirty seconds later, she said: " Is she in her second year?"

"YES YES." A smile spread across Mike's face.

"Ok, the Business Department is on the left. You can ask anyone; they will tell you. She is popular here."

"Thank You." Mike bade farewell at the reception and went to the hostel room to drop off his briefcase first. After spending nearly ten minutes gathering his courage and imagining Claire's reaction, Mike finally made his way to the campus park.

Mike's eyes swept across the park. Couples sat beneath the trees. Students chatted around the fountain.

Claire wasn't among them.

Then he saw some students there, but Claire was nowhere to be seen. Mike approached a group of students. "Excuse me. Do you know Claire from Eastwood?"

They looked in Mike's direction and noticed the bouquet of red roses in his hands. A student spoke. "She was here a moment ago. Who are you?"

"We're childhood friends. I came to surprise her," said Mike.

A girl said. "She went that way with Sam."

"Sam," Mike said in an excited voice, confident that this Sam was his best friend.

"H-Her..."The girl opened her mouth to say something, but Mike was already running in that direction.

Mike was actively looking for Claire and reached an isolated area at the corner of the campus park's boundary. A small room was there, and Mike was wondering where she was.

He heard someone panting mixed with some lewd noises.

Mike blinked in disbelief. Seeing something like this in the middle of the campus was the last thing he expected. After a brief hesitation, he walked toward the source of the voices.

He leaned against the wall and craned his neck to see what was going on, and he finally found Claire and Sam.

Author: Thank god, finally.

What he saw made his mind go blank.

Claire was pressed against the wall, her skirt pushed up around her waist. Her legs were wrapped tightly around Sam's hips. Sam was thrusting into her hard and deep, the wet sound of skin hitting skin loud in the quiet corner. Claire's head was thrown back, her mouth open, moaning without any shame.

"Faster… Ah… Sam… Ah... harder… fuck me…" she begged, her voice high and desperate. Her nails dug into Sam's shoulders as she pulled him closer.

Sam gripped her thighs and slammed into her with full force, grunting with every thrust. "You love this cock more than that loser, don't you?"

"Yes… only yours… don't stop…" Claire moaned loudly, completely lost in it.

The bouquet of roses slipped from Mike's hand and fell to the ground. His chest felt tight, like someone was crushing it. He just stood there, watching the girl he had loved since childhood get fucked by his best friend.

For a few seconds, he couldn't even breathe.

Then something inside him broke.

"C-Claire…" His voice came out weak and cracked.

Both of them froze.

Sam turned his head first. When he saw Mike, a slow, ugly grin spread across his face. He didn't even pull out. He just kept Claire pinned against the wall.

Claire's eyes widened for a second, then her expression changed. The panic disappeared, replaced by irritation.

"Mike?" she said, still breathing hard. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Mike's hands were shaking. He tried to speak, but only a broken sound came out at first. Finally he forced the words out.

"How long…?"

Sam laughed and finally pulled out of her, not even bothering to fix his clothes properly. "Over a year, bro. You were just too stupid to notice."

Claire pulled her skirt down slowly, looking at Mike with something close to disgust. "You were always busy with your useless training and your stupid dreams. What did you expect me to do? Wait forever for a guy who loses every single fight?"

Mike's vision blurred. His throat was burning.

"I… I came here to surprise you," he said quietly. "I got into S-University. I wanted to tell you…"

Sam snorted. "Congratulations. You're still a loser though."

Claire crossed her arms. "Just leave, Mike. This was never going to work. You're too soft. Too weak. Sam actually knows how to take what he wants."

The words hit harder than any punch Mike had taken in the ring.

He stood there for a moment longer, staring at the two people he had trusted the most. The roses lay crushed on the ground near his feet.

Without saying another word, he turned around and walked away.

His chest felt hollow.

Every breath hurt.

Behind him, he could still hear Sam's low laugh and Claire's voice saying something he couldn't make out.

Mike kept walking until the sounds faded.

Only then did his legs give out. He sat down on the nearest bench, staring at nothing, as the last pieces of the life he knew completely shattered.

.

.

.

[Told you]

[Predicted outcome: 94%]

[Emotional collapse confirmed.]

[Host's current state: Broken.]

[Reminder: This is why the training existed.]

[Question: Will the host continue… or stay a loser?]

The screen stayed there, waiting.

Mike stared at the words; his jaw tightened.

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