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The Exception

By: AGeerling



My husband came home from the party late and stinking of gin, but still very proper in his manners. He brought with him a tall woman whom he introduced as Delilah. She had fashionably long blonde hair, too heavy makeup and a blue sequined dress, split up to the thigh, that presented her silicone bosom to the world. She simpered and smiled when Howard introduced her, saying how she gave truly excellent blow jobs. "At least that's what Leroy tells me, and he says that Anne finds her marvelous as well. A tongue like an angel."

It was not what I wanted to hear at this hour. The children were in bed already, but Fiona had waited up an hour past her bedtime hoping to see her father, and I was upset with him for disappointing her. I am not good at concealing my temper - one of the reasons I avoid parties like the plague - but I was as civil as I thought the situation deserved.

"Well, isn't that nice for them. How do you do, Delilah? I'd offer you a drink, but I see you have both already had an evening's full share. Shall I call a taxi to send her home?"

Howard said at once, "No, no, Lucy, what are you saying? Darling, please, calm down. Delilah can come in for a bit, she's just got here. Show some hospitality."

"I thought I was. She has no business being here, and you have no business bringing her."

He put his hands on my shoulders to calm me.

"Oh come now, Lucy. She's a friend. She's a very kind friend and I think that you'll like her if you give her a chance. She's very charming, aren't you Delilah?"

"I try my best," she said in a sultry voice.

I shook my head. "Are you crazy? Not like this, not unannounced. The children are here!"

He scoffed lightly. "They're sound asleep and they'll sleep for hours more. They'd sleep through a goddamn avalanche. You've got nothing to worry about."

We have an arrangement. Sometimes we have visitors to our house, and sometimes they are invited to share our bed. This is something we both enjoy, but there are rules to how it works. I insist on them. First, I always meet these visitors and know them for at least a week in advance. Second, the children never meet them; they stay at a friend's house or with a relative while we have our dalliances He broke both our rules in one swoop with this woman and I was upset.

My face must have told him, that and the clenching of my fist. He took a step away.

"Oh, calm yourself, Lucy. You're not going to hit anyone. Fine, we don't have to do anything at all tonight except talk. You can do that much, at least."

I tried to relax, but I was really angry. "No, I don't think I can. I don't have any words right now that are suitable for company."

"Well, fine then, you don't have to talk. Just let her come in for a few minutes to have a drink. Let her have a rest for a while, we've been on our feet all damn night."

I didn't agree but I stopped resisting and let him bring her inside to the parlor. After a moment I followed them in and I let my husband fix me a drink.

Delilah lounged on the couch. She did not seem at all put out by my temper - if anything, she may've been turned on by it - and she smiled warmly while Howard clinked away at the glasses.

I sat at the other end of the couch and fidgeted. I was trying to hold on to my anger, but it was late; I didn't have much energy for it. It was enough just to be annoyed. Besides, she was a pretty thing. Not her face exactly, which had some odd proportions, but the overall package was undeniably stimulating, even through my displeasure. It was a shame about her breasts, though: I understand wanting a handful, but have never cared for implants. I am fortunately blessed in that department.

She caught me inspecting her and her smile deepened. She adjusted her position so I could follow the curve of her stockinged thigh up to the slit in her dress. I blushed, ashamed at having been so easily found out.

I cleared my throat. Just sitting in silence would not do, after all.

"Are you a prostitute, Delilah?" I asked, a shockingly rude question - my unruly mouth was another reason Howard often preferred to leave me at home when he went out. Howard froze and dropped an ice cube on the tray.

"Dear, whatever are you saying?"

"I have a right to know who I am being asked to sleep with, I think. You haven't given me the chance to get to know her otherwise, so I may as well ask. So, are you?"

Delilah was again not at all offended. "An understandable question, Lucy. May I call you Lucy? It's unfair of me, but Howard has told me so much about you that I feel a little forward." I indicated that I did not care what she called me as long as she answered my questions. "I have been a prostitute before," she said, "for several years when I was a student, to pay my way. But now I am not. I work as an accountant at a company in town. However I do sometimes enjoy attending at parties, as a part of the entertainment, so to speak. As a sort of a hobby. I do get compensated for it, but the money isn't the issue. I am here because I enjoy it."

"I see," I said. She was much more straightforward, and well-spoken, than I had anticipated. "And what is it, exactly, that you enjoy?"

She took the drink Howard offered her and sipped at it. "I enjoy meeting new people, people like yourself, Lucy."

I maintained my cold expression, but her voice, deep, smooth and confident, and her unapologetic honesty, had warmed me up inside. My first impression was of a simple slut, but there was certainly more to her than that; I could see now why Howard had brought her. It was just a shame that he had broken our rules so. I might have otherwise enjoyed this woman a great deal.

Still I wanted to be a little cruel to them. "So are we expected to pay for your presence tonight, for the honor of meeting you?"

She waved the thought away. "Your friends, the Humbolts, wanted me for their party."

"Please, they're Howard's friends, not mine."

"And their party is over. I came here because Howard invited me very nicely." Howard sat in the armchair near Delilah and smiled once, like a puppy recognizing its name.

I examined her face for any deeper meanings. She had a long jaw that curved up to a delicate ear nestled among her blonde locks. Her lips were thick, painted red, and ever so slightly smudged: against a glass or perhaps something else. I imagined those lips curled around Howard's cock, her mascara-laden eyes softly closed, down-turned with tears pooling at the corners. With her tongue wetly cradling his member, Howard would hunch and gasp, and she would turn her head back slightly to open her throat to take him deeper, until his balls hung against her chin and his hair tickled her nose. I could just see him trying to decide if he should just let go and spend right away or else try to hold on to draw out the pleasure even longer. I decided he was impatient and watched him spend down her throat.

I swallowed and took a sip of scotch and ginger ale, my favorite drink. "Did you fuck my husband yet? Or give him one of your truly excellent blow jobs?"

Howard rolled his eyes. "Oh, dearest, you really like getting ahead of yourself. You know I wouldn't do anything without your say so."

"Like with Valerie," I said. The memory still stung, no matter how much I said I'd forgiven him.

"Ages ago, and quite the misunderstanding." To Delilah he explained, "It's basically all right if she okays it first, and in that case I thought she had. Obviously we got things mixed up."

Delilah was sympathetic to us both. "Well, these are delicate issues. I know it as well as anyone. I've had my heart broken more than once. Don't worry yourself, Lucy. Howard's been a perfect gentleman. He did show me his cock when he pissed in the garden, but I don't think it was a come-on."

Howard gulped his drink down and stood up. "Speaking of which, I've got to go again right now. Please be civil, darling, until I get back." We both watched him leave the room. Then we turned back to each other.

"You wear too much make-up," I opined. "It would be more flattering if you toned it down a bit, I think."

She shrugged. "And you wear none at all," she said. "You might look better with some."

"I wasn't expecting visitors. Really, I wish he'd called first."

"What would you have said if he had told you I was coming?"

This time I shrugged. "I'd have told him to go stuff himself."

"You are very beautiful." 

"And I don't even have my make-up on," I said with a sip of my drink.

"Your body is very attractive." I rolled my eyes. "You have two children, yes? You don't look it. You must take very good care of yourself."

Whatever the situation, it wasn't good to brag, so I said, "Not particularly."

It amused her. She bit back a laugh, but then grew serious. "Are you really angry I'm here? I can go if you are. It'd be a shame, but I hate to upset a person in their own house."

"Yes, I'm upset. Howard is a right bastard bringing you here. It's nothing against you, you know. If he had followed the rules, I'd be happy to have you, well, you know, to bed."

"You would?"

"I'd love it. You're quite the most interesting person we've had for one of these dalliances in years."

"You have no idea how interesting I am," she said and slid closer to me on the couch.

"And Howard is such a bore sometimes. Frankly, that's why I don't mind it when he screws around with other women, as long as I know who it is. It's much better when we have someone else around." In truth, I was getting tipsy and saying too much. I had had a drink of my own just before they'd arrived, and I am not a strong drinker.

She touched my shoulder with one hand, tentatively, then stroked along the outside of my arm. I looked down at her hand, then at her lips again. It had been a while since we had a play partner. Almost half a year, in fact. I imagined tasting those lips and wet wriggly tongue. There would be the smell of alcohol on her breath, the feel of her teeth as I pushed inside her, the gentle moan that would begin in her throat and finish in mine as our breasts crushed together through our clothes. I would hold her and take her head in my hands, as if to force her mouth open to let my tongue in her deeper. She would submit to my kiss, let me all but fuck her mouth with my tongue, then catch me with her lips and turn a gentle suck into a fierce one, so that my tongue would ache with the suction. Deep in my lap, my heat grew stronger. I could feel the swelling of my vulva.

I took a deep breath. Damn him, I thought. He just had to break the rules with this one.

Looking down, I noticed her left hand resting on my thigh as her right slowly stroked my auburn hair. Warm and gently placed, the hand suggested many possibilities.

I brushed her away. "No," I said, frustrated. "No, none of that now."

"Why not?" she purred. "You said you want it. I can feel you getting ready. I can all but smell it. So if you want to so much, why not do it?"

"There are rules to how this works," I said and sat up on the edge of the couch, hoping to regain some control of the situation. "I have to know them for at least a week, and the children can't be anywhere around. I have to know you first or it just doesn't work." Changing positions didn't go as I'd hoped because she came in close, half behind me, one hand at my elbow, the other around by my hip. Her breast brushed against my back and her breath tickled on my neck. It was all gentle enough that she didn't cling or prod, which would have irritated me; instead her touch tempted me to lean back into her embrace, invited me to surrender.

"What's so special about knowing me for a week?" Delilah asked. "How does that change anything?"

"It means I can see them in different circumstances and get an idea of their character. And it drives Howard crazy, the waiting. He is ever so attentive during a courtship; he goes out of his way to please me, to make me want it."

"That's understandable. I can see why you'd like that. It's a good rule. But doesn't it ever drive you crazy, too? Aren't there times when you just drip with desire for someone? Like me? Because you can have me."

"Damn it, I know! But that's not it; the children are upstairs and I won't risk disturbing them. I can just imagine them walking in in the middle of something. It's too much to worry about." I started getting worked up again. How could Howard have done this to me?

Delilah breathed slowly and rubbed my back, soothing me. Her hands were wide and strong, her manicured nails short and painted red. "Well, there is the risk," she conceded. "But don't you and Howard do it while they're here?"

"That's one thing," I said, finishing my drink and putting the glass on the side table, "but having you here is another. They've walked in on us before. How embarrassing that was. But we had a good laugh about it."

"So you don't think you could laugh about it if I was here?"

"I couldn't show them my face again."

She ran both hands down my back, scratching lightly across my blouse. Her persistent touch never let the heat run out of me. One hand followed the arc of my ribs, coming up just under my breast, almost cupping it before easing back along my hips.

"You probably could, you know. I find women like you amazing. So much depends on you, so many big and little things. I won't tell you not to worry, but this is just a few hours. They might hear us and wonder, but the truth won't break them. And you must agree that they probably won't. This is a big house." It was a big house; if Fiona or Henry woke up, they'd probably just go to the bathroom and go right back to bed, unless one of us was actually screaming. I wanted to believe it.

Her hands were driving me crazy. I wanted to feel them on my breasts, in my mouth, on my thighs, my pussy. I could just imagine her digits dancing over my labia, spreading them and teasing away at my clit. Her warm breath and tongue would glide up though my slit like a wave ebbing and flowing, bathing me with her juices. Measured, playful and strong, she would tease my ass and wriggle a long finger in while sucking on me; I might come just from that. I hadn't been this excited since I was newly married.

Delilah whispered in my ear. "I'm here now, and I won't hurt you, or your children, and I won't take your husband away. We're safe. I am just here for tonight. We can just share pleasure with each other. You can have everything you want, and I'll take all you can give."

"Rules," I said, desperately. "They are important. Rules are rules."

"Yes," she agreed, and she was touching me and I was loving it. Delilah kneaded my breast gently into my heart and stroked from my thighs up to my stomach, pulling me into her. She kissed my neck, the root of my jaw and my ear. Her breath made me gasp, and I struggled between two conflicting desires, to hold her in return and to pull away.

"Those rules have saved my marriage, my family," I said, my last defense.

"They have," she agreed, "but every rule needs an exception."

No shit, I thought. The dam broke.

"You are exceptional!" I said, and turned and kissed her full on the mouth.

She sucked my breath away hungrily, her tongue roving between our lips. I clutched her to me, gasping, kissing and holding her. Delilah fondled me through my clothes, undoing a button here and there as she went until almost with a flick of her wrist it seemed my blouse was off and my bra was open.

"Just beautiful," she said, pausing to admire her handiwork. Taking a breast in each hand, she leaned close and began to kiss them. Her tongue sent electric shivers from my nipples down to my clit; I've always been quite sensitive there. She suckled at a gentle pace, switching from one to the other periodically while she undid my slacks and worked them down to my knees.

"Wait," I said, kicking them off. "I want to touch you, too."

"I was waiting for that. I have some surprises for you."

Kneeling on the couch, kissing her, I unzipped her dress and slid it carefully down to reveal her breasts. They were the silicone shaped spheres that I normally disapproved of, but now I didn't let myself object to them. Even if they weren't that great to fondle, I wanted to lay some claim to her body before we got down to still more intimate activities. I gave each nipple a firm suck until they stood erect. My fingers roamed across the breadth of her back, down over her narrow hips to caress her ass through her silky black underwear. I noted with approval that she wore her panties over her garters.

Moving my kisses lower, I looked up at her mischievously. Her chest rose and fell with anticipation. I could picture her expression changing when I eventually found her clit with my tongue. I cherished that moment with all of my lovers. What sort of moan would she give me, I wondered. I knew the sounds I would give her when it was my turn.

I let my hands slink around and tease the air around her crotch. She unconsciously swayed her hips, trying to make me touch her, but I stayed just out of the way, letting her long for it until one finger brushed the lower edge of her mons. It was stiffer than I expected. My whole hand rubbed over her, but instead of meeting the damp heat of an eager cunt, I found a long, engorged shaft straining against the tight fabric of her panties.

My breath caught as I peeled them away and found her erect cock and a loose ball sack decorated with thin tufts of dark blonde hair. I just stared at it with nothing to say. I looked up at Delilah and she smiled at me.

"Surprise," she said, and touched my face. "Open your mouth." I did, and she lifted her cock and put the tip of it against my lips. It was of average size and girth, a good mouthful. I tested the glans with an experimental lick. It was real: a live cock, no dildo. "Suck me," she said. "Let me feel you inside." So I took her member in my fingers and closed my lips over it and began to work it. It took me a minute to warm up, but when I slid the skin across the shaft with both hands while sucking it fully into my mouth until it reached the top of my throat, she gave a soft little groan, the kind I find so adorable.

Suddenly I couldn't wait to make her come. Whatever twist of things had brought this strange she-male into my house, I wasn't going to ruin things by worrying about it now. With copious spit to lube my lips and hands, I loved that shaft up and down, making her gasp and move her hips. Cupping her balls, I gently sucked them into my mouth and then let them pop out again and again. I licked up along the underside of the cock, and then down the top to work my way around again. I took her deep in my mouth as far as I could, bobbing up and down in short strokes. She hummed and sighed, her breath getting shorter as I built the pleasure up inside her.

Footsteps came from behind me. I had all but forgotten about him, but Howard was there - he had been watching for some time - and his tumescent cock hung out of his fly. I looked around, but he was intent on Delilah and waved me back to my business.

"I was hoping you could help me with this," he said, "it's been giving me the worst trouble."

"I wondered when you'd be back," she said over a hiss of pleasure as I twined my hands around her shaft. "Take off you pants." He complied. Delilah rubbed at his cock, turning it over, noting its fat head and bulging veins. I could feel her attention shift away from my actions as she lay back onto the couch and pulled him over her. At the same time she pulled me along with her legs and let me know she appreciated my efforts. She took Howard's cock with her lips giving it soft kisses and gradually engulfed it. He let out a long stiff exhale. I, of course, could not see everything she did, but I could hear the slurping and the slushing of it over Howard's enthusiastic commentary.


The Exception



So here's another. It's a bit on the mainstream but at the same time not really.

There's an editor I owe a lot to but I never quite got the name. I'll update this bit as soon as I find out.

Get popcorn and background music.

Hope you enjoy.

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'...' = thoughts.

"...." = spoken sentences.

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"Connor, table thirty-four. Hop to it!"

'Should've seen that coming.'

A young man with hazel eyes looked up from the empty tray he held. Despite his obvious irritation, he held his tongue.

He was raven haired, had a slim but fit physique, and was currently dressed in black and white work formal with a maroon waistcoat in place of a jacket. The humble beginnings of a beard sprouted from an otherwise smooth chin.

"Connor!"

"I heard," he sighed, shelving the kitchen ware back where he took it from. "Just clarify for me a little. Do you want me to serve forty-one, sixteen or thirty-four? I'm a bit at odds of what to do here."

That last line came out with a little more spite than intended. It couldn't be helped. Janice was a slave driver in every sense of the word. And when she had a bad day, the witch went out of her way to make sure everyone else did too.

The woman in question stopped flipping through the register and narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. "We gettin' cute now, Connor?"

"I can't help it sometimes," he countered with a casual shrug of the shoulders. The entire kitchen went dead silent. It was populated by fifteen other people, all wearing their own uniforms and occupied with their own designations. Some on clean up, some on meal preparations, others like him were waiters. They got the brunt of it. From both their supervisors and their customers.

Janice gently placed the book down, rounded the chopping counter and walked over to him, heels clicking with every step. "Careful princess. Or I'll make sure the next thing you'll be carrying with those pretty fingers of yours, is a cleaning kit with the uniform and job title to match."

She dusted invisible dirt off his shoulder with a smile. "I want your ass at table thirty-four Connor. Now." Her head nudged at the tables through the walls. "Clear enough?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he returned the wry smile. "Transparently."

It was official a long time ago that he loathed her. Considerably more than any other person here did. Whatever feeling that had morphed into since, was beyond the english dictionary's capability to adequately describe it.

'Human relations is clearly not your thing so what genius decided to put you in charge anyway?'

Oh, that's right. The joys of having family in high places meant one didn't necessarily have to worry about being qualified for a job. That bit was understandable. What really ticked them all off however, was how the leech insisted on taking all the credit for their efforts, in public or amongst themselves.

In all fairness, he'd technically be within his rights to state he was running an hour overtime already. And if the witch wanted any more mileage out of him, she'd need to clock it.

Just as well, she'd be without alternatives, with the way the restaurant was already running understaffed. But then the people she answered to would want an explanation as to why the payroll was heavier without prior approval.

Connor shook his head to himself. It was almost ten at night but he was already antagonised enough as it was. Riling Janice up any further would not be in his best interests. Stepping around her, he gave the devil incarnate two taps on the shoulder before making for the handleless doors.

Panorlite was a full five star restaurant, only found in hotel franchises with the same rating or higher. No doubt, it deserved no less by the simple look of it.

A pearl white themed dining room set the stage for a memorable evening. No two tables looked alike, each sporting rounded edges and were lit up by tea light candles. Those reflected brilliantly off the translucent surface they sat on.

Curved chairs were encased in hand sewn polyester and the floor they rested looked like polished ice without a single tile in sight. The ideal sports bar sat by the far wall exhibiting the finest of liquor. Hell, even the dimly lit chandeliers alone must have each cost double his entire student loan.

 

But for him, all this class translated to was that he'd be constantly serving wealthy stiffs with quite the variety of silver spoons shoved so far up their rears, it's a wonder how they even managed to sit down at all.

'Hey, at least it pays well... Relatively speaking anyways.'

The waiter casually pulled out his disposable note pad and branded pencil as he made his way over to his assignment. The clatter of cutlery against plates cascaded throughout the room. So did the murmur of conversation, laughs and the clink of wine glasses as friends honoured each other.

A man anxiously crushed a ring box behind his chair while his date droned on about something forgettable. It all served to drown out the repetitive classic music that played in the background.

A hand fell on his shoulder, catching him off guard. "You just won the lottery."

"What?"

"Thirty-four, equals lottery," His co-worker elaborated. "Or pigeons depending on your point of view."

Aleck was the youngest of them all. A fresh greenhorn with a slick sense of cunning. He could literally - for lack of a more accurate word - bullshit his way out of anything.

In most instances, that alone was all one needed to know about the fellow. But in this line of work, that skill came in pretty useful when it came to collecting... incentive.

"Be nice to them, you hear me? Ask them how their day was, laugh at their jokes," he advised, pausing to pick up a dropped fork. Did he know he was wearing his clip-on bow tie upside down? "Make a little small talk, see if they can get lotsa free stuff like complimentary wine. Then give them lots of it."

"Gee... Am I going to take an order or going on a date?"

"Depends on how versatile you are."

Connor arched a brow at the implication. "Should I be worried?"

"There's at least one girl there, so no," Clearly he'd done his research. It was typical of him; Constantly scheming and calculating the shortest route to each customer's wallets.

Yet even he had to admit, ever since the rookie came on board, there had been a significant increase in gratuity. "Seriously though. You gotta make this one count. We all kinda need it."

True. Among them was a sort of... 'Code' employees went by. For all staff to benefit from tips, they had to go into a single jar rather than one's pocket.

The earnings were then divided at the end of each run. The bigger the bonus, the bigger the payoff. These were their real salaries. These past few days had been a little dry though.

"Alright. So who are they exactly?" Connor could think of one or two ways to get an indecent amount out of them.

"Rich kids." Aleck gracelessly dodged a guest, in attempt to keep up. "They're the class of stuck ups that gamble recklessly just because they can."

"As opposed to what? Betting for a sustainable income?" A toddler scurried by with a serviette in hand. So much for their no children policy. Did Samantha overlook anyone with a cheque book these days?

"My argument's that; with pockets that deep, they don't need to." There was an touch of venom in his tone. "Yet they still have the audacity to play for other people's money."

The first waiter's eyebrows furrowed. "'Play' being the operative word, right? As in play a game? I'd like to think everyone's entitled to a little amusement."

Aleck scoffed. "At their own expense. Not someone else's. You should have seen them man. It's no longer a game when people start pushing tokens in the five digits figures. They were at every table. Roulette, twenty-one, baccarat... "

It was his turn to stop the chatterbox. He halted midway and laid both hands on Aleck's shoulders sternly. "You know... I don't remember saying anything about casinos." He could practically see Aleck berate himself internally. His hair was cut short today. A torn lip indicated he may or may not have been involved in a fight recently. "Do I even wanna know?"

The rookie stubbornly pulled out of his grip. "Yesterday, freckles over there conned me." Connor shifted his view over to where his co-worker glared.

His target had curly blonde hair and faded freckles manifesting on a somewhat handsome face. He was definitely the easy going sort. The laid back posture and and calm manner he addressed his company was evidence of that.

"We were playing an honest game of Blackjack. Then he shows up with his stack of chips and baits everyone. Twelve rounds later he'd cleared out the entire table, taking my day's wages with him. Bastard was counting the whole time," he vented through grit teeth. His hands were balled into fists. "The entire table knew it too including the dealer. Imagine my shock when I'm asked to leave after calling him out for it."

Knowing him, that's when he decided to take it up with the bouncer called to remove him. Not an easy argument to win. To a degree Connor could understand. His friend had been done a disservice and just wanted his money back.

But his paycheck never had the capacity to sustain that kind of pastime. It's not like casino's weren't out there to make a loss. Hell, he himself was barely legal for them either.

 

"Aleck, do you ever learn?"

"I do! C'mon, I don't bet obsessively. I know when to cash out." Of course he'd defend himself. Who likes to admit fault? "Yesterday, frustration got the better of me. He'd lose a turn or two, fooling you into betting more, then he'd up his stakes too before..."

"Not interested in semantics mate." Connor turned his attention back to his job. "I'll get only your starting balance back, but just this once," he assured him. "For the time being, stay out of his sights. Alright?"

Aleck simply nodded and left it at that. Alleviation rung off each step as the rookie sprung off in the direction they came from.

It would probably be something else next week. So the question was; is he really helping the child if he gave him an out every time he messed up?

Regardless of the grudge though, on a normal day, Aleck wasn't much different. He took every client here as a challenge. Like they were their own unique vault. Each with a different exploitable combination.

There was just one consistent problem with Al's strategies though. They all involved sucking up. He however couldn't stand to see himself submit to anyone.

Connor studied the table's three occupants as he made his approach. They were just a couple of children, not much younger than him really. Maybe nineteen or twenty. Maybe both? But they were children nonetheless. That last observation was mostly determined by how they carried themselves. Simply put; They were spoilt.

'But what do I care so long as they pay right?'

Fellow human beings populating the tables around them, wore quite the annoyed expressions. Who could blame them with the excessively loud laughter, or the cigarette smoke hijacking the air? Never mind that there's a smoker's section or ventilated private rooms. Never mind the outside deck for that matter.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen. I bid a fair night to ye all. May thy humble attendant offer thee liquor to quench thy thirst or perhaps a meal to fill your bellies," he started coolly.

And cue silence. They all just stared at him like he'd recently spat out a cat.

"I'm asking for your orders basically." He clarified when they failed to respond.

A ginger haired girl with short spiky hair started to giggle profusely. "Really now? With pirate slang or whatever the fuck that was?"

The waiter smiled back. "It's an ice breaker. I feared anything short of unusual would've done very little to get your attention." He then gestured with the stationary he held in hand. "So what are we having?"

That was followed by even more laughter, this time unbridled and he had to actively force his eyes not to roll.

"Alright, me matey." Connor looked across to the male across the table responsible for the smoke choking the air. Had he not opened his mouth, he may have passed for the smarter type. He certainly dressed the part with him being the only one in formal dress code. One could strongly argue he finished a bottle of hair gel with one usage. It suit him though with the manner his jet black hair was neatly combed back. "Obtaineth for me and mine crew two of thy finest bottles namethed Macallan 25," he mocked. "We are still to chooseth our meals to dineth on this evening."

Connor cringed inside. Yeah he really shouldn't try that again before reading five or six medieval novels. Preferably those published in the nineties era or earlier.

"Right away sir," he replied. "Might I just take a look at your ID first?"

"Why? So you can stalk me and commit identity theft?"

"So I can confirm whether or not you're alcohol legal." Well that sure caught their attention. The amity in their demeanor vanished instantly. The two boys stared holes into him while ginger over there threw her phone into her miniature hand bag as if to mark the end of the event.

"You just had to go there," the last guest remarked. He was the least impressed of them all. "Just who the fuck do you think you are anyway?"

'Ringleader at two o'clock.'

The age card always put things into focus. "Sir, I'm just following protocol." he said feigning innocence. "A liquor license is very easy to lose."

"Jamie, let's just go," the girl started but was cut off by his raised hand.

Now that he was up close, Connor thought he recognised him from somewhere. He was sporting a well covered up bruise on his left cheek. Now why didn't Aleck mention that bit? "That shouldn't necessarily be your problem," freckles rationalised. "I'd be shocked if this restaurant had never paid a bribe or two before."

Connor quirked an eyebrow. Something only he seemed to be capable of. "All the time actually. Mostly with passes on health and sanity checks relating to food deliveries." His elbows used the back of the empty fourth chair to support his weight. He continued in a more hushed tone.

 

"However that's management's problem. If I screw up, they still pay the inducement, sure. But I still lose my job. Now let's pretend this inducement was paid without their knowledge. Hypothetically, I'd have nothing to lose and you wouldn't have to go about the impossible task of looking for a top star establishment that flauts the law."

A moment passed where the two were deadlocked in a stare. No, only one of them stared. The other was more akin to a death glare. Where had he seen him before?

Then freckles' expression made a complete U-turn. He grinned and sat back. His hand reached for the jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a wallet. "Okay. I get it. Just simple capitalism at work, right? One's gain at the expense of another?"

Connor shrugged. "I'd like to think of it as a provisional trade."

The blonde's eyes betrayed his cordial smile. "Fair enough. So then, hypothetically speaking; How much is this 'bribe'?" He emphasised on that last word with fingers curling up in the air.

In that moment, Jamie had taken control of the bargain, letting him state his price. Connor's reply came in written form. He ripped off the note, gently laid it down on the glass and patiently awaited their move.

Ginger grabbed it first. Confusion flashed across her face before it turned into rage. "What? That's extortion!" retorted loud enough for the next few tables to hear.

"Agreed," the second concurred, pulling the paper from her fingers for a better look. "Jamie we'll call princess and tell her we'll be getting our shit elsewhere," he finished, passing him the note and pulling his jacket off the back of his chair.

"Sit down." It was solid and didn't offer much room for argument. Ignoring his friend's advice, Jamie pulled out his smart phone and unlocked it. "We're waiting for Luka. And when she arrives, we'll have our dinner, right here at this table, sipping on our glasses of Macallan. And only after we're done, shall we leave." He handed the phone over to Connor. "Branch code and account number in the highlighted fields."

No sooner had he entered in his details and confirmed, Connor felt his own cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiled inwardly despite the dirty stares the other two gave him. No doubt they'd severe a limb before they ate here again. But if what Aleck told him was anything to go by, he was just returning the favour.

He handed Jamie his phone back and Jamie simply received it with his dignity intact. "Two complimentary twenty-fives, neat, coming right up," he finished, jotting it down and backpedaling from the table.

It was really all just a formality. The entire conversation, that is. He knew it and so did the blonde. The other two groupies were still yet to catch on.

They wanted alcohol, Jamie could afford it and he could supply it. One just needed the balls to demand what one wanted and from the looks of things, that's what Jamie respected. Either that or he was just too prideful to admit any lack of money for someone of his class.

'Bull. It was neither of the two. The kid was just showing off.'

'What do I care? I got what I wanted.'

'And what does that got to say for your pride and self-respect?'

'I don't remember begging for a dime, so it's still high up there.'

'That's not what I'm talking about...'

Why he hadn't yet thrown his conscience out in the cold by now was nothing short of a miracle. Technically it was because of him that the three were even having anything respectable to drink at all. It's not like he was being deceptive. Practically every server here took advantage of their customers whenever the opportunity arose. Lord knows they needed the credit more.

'To hell with it. We seriously need to get you off your high... high... Wow.'

He couldn't have imagine a more aesthetically pleasing image of a girl if he was given a lifetime to try. Connor was dumbstruck. Almost as if his thought pattern had turned into scribbles.

Her hair was a rich light shade of mahogany, tied up into neat pigtails that swung with every fluid step. They flowed in thick waves, down to her lower back.

She owned a slightly inward curved small nose, smooth pink lips, a sharp chin, all wrapped up in glowing, porcelain-like skin. And with those huge azure eyes framed by long thick eyelashes - she screamed of perfection.

But the sight of her was gone all too soon when her gorgeous self walked past him as if he didn't even exist.

God have mercy, she was pretty and cute all in the same basket. It tore him up inside just to look at her. Even the fragrance she left behind smelt... like citrus. Good luck trying to get it out of his mind in the near future.

There was an aching need to turn around for just for one last look. Lord knows that would have its fair share of repercussions. Janice was out of the kitchen. In the dim lighting, he could see her eyes trained on him provokingly. He sighed to himself and made his way past the throngs of people enjoying the meals his best friend helped prepare.

There was a collective applause the moment Connor stepped into the kitchen. Aleck looked at him thankfully and he nodded in return. The same went for a couple of the other people there with phones in hand looking at the notification. This had been a fairly hopeless week thus far and with the way most of the crew literally lived from paycheque to paycheque, every cent meant the world.

Yeah, where was his conscience now? Had it nothing to say anymore?

His legs walked him past the food and plate warmers, over to the ovens on the far end of room. The sharp clap of high fives echoed along the way.




The Exception



It was your typical U-shaped restaurant kitchen with the centre aisle reserved for cooking and preparations. Even though not quite match the high bar set by the other side of the wall, it was clear the designer's idea was practicality over beauty.

A chef in white was crouched down beside the open door, fiddling with the machinery. "Well that looks new. What's it called?" the waiter asked, bending over and looking at the chef's latest innovation.

"Soufflé au... Frohmage," he replied distractedly still attempting to get the jammed tray out.

Connor stood up straight and frowned. "You mean a cheese cake?"

"Alright wise guy, you have no place stealing my thunder just because you took a couple of language classes back in high school. It's called Soufflé au Frohmage and it's a bitch to make." He finally managed to dislodge it and pull out the tray. "Is good, no?" he finished with a French accent.

'I haven't even tasted it...'

The waiter back pedalled two steps and leaned on the central counter.

The cake was placed down just beside him and the mittens hung back up on their hook. He then felt a concerned hand drop onto his shoulder prompting him to look back up to its owner.

Kyle R. Graham by profession was one of the four cooks that gave this branch its esteemed reputation. Hard working with the constitution of a well-bred ox making him pretty much the most reliable person Connor knew.

Their water-tight friendship dated way back to their freshman year of high school. Since then, they had built up a barrage of memories together. That was almost seven years ago.

At age twenty-three, Kyle knew exactly where he was headed and got there fast. It was because of him that Connor landed a job as a part time waiter here. No, it was nowhere near his field of study, but as a student still in the works, you take what you're given right?

"What's with the dazed look?" he was asked.

A shy smile found its way back onto Connor's features as he concentrated on the tiles before him. "I think I just found out what an anime girl looks like in real life."

"Right..." Kyle let go of him and made a beeline for a nearby sink. "I take it by that you mean someone brought life sized models of the H.O.T.D cast into the restaurant. Shortly after, you fell in love, no?" His forced accent was back in droves, mocking him to no end.

"I mean..." he threw the towel he was holding at the clown, frustrated how there wasn't something a tad bit heavier within reach, "there's a girl in there and she's flipping gorgeous. I swear it's the kinda stuff you'd get in wet dreams or..."

Water droplets splashing on his neck cut his sentence short. "You can spare me that bit. What was she wearing?" And now he was using his towel to dry his hands. Typical.

Connor closed his eyes for the most vivid recollection. "Silky blue dress. Kinda like her eyes. It was low cut all around the shoulders and down to her cleavage. Tight at the waist and flared out at her hips. Short enough to be sexy and long enough not to be..."

"So it was designer," he interrupted again. "Was she with anyone?"

"Not that I saw," Connor gave his friend a curious look. "Why, you might know her?"

Graham laughed that infectious snigger of his while removing the plaster from his work. A bowl of what looked to be icing sat next to it. "No chance, but from what you told me, she's classy and can afford her own meal. You'll wanna let this one go," he explained.

"Gee thanks man," Connor said with virtually no enthusiasm. "Nice to know someone has faith in me."

"I do!" The chef confessed defensively. "And one day, you're going to be a great engineer and design a train that spans Mount Kilimanjaro, just because you can. At that time, you'll be able to afford that kinda girl, or any other for that matter."

An annoyed Aleck came over and dug out the order notes for tables sixteen and forty-one out of his right pocket. Connor smiled sheepishly which earned him an elbow in the ribs.

"It'll probably be a midlife crisis or something but you'll have women, alcohol and you'll waking up with an empty set of balls - along with an evil hangover the next morning," Kyle continued with a dodgy smile, seemingly directed at his cake that was now sitting on the turntable. He fired it up, and with a low hum, it started to spin. "However, right now, that girl is way outta your league.

"Hell, assume she already has a wealthy as fuck boyfriend who's air to some corporate monolith, stays in a thirty acre estate and has a surgically elongated penis to boot. You have absolutely nothing you can offer her."

By now Connor's face bore a flat affect. "You're a real dick you know that?"

Kyle shrugged his shoulders. "I'd be an even bigger dick if I let you get your hopes up." Paying every detail the utmost attention, he started decorating the desert. He preferred to go about it the old fashioned way; using a flat wooden spatula and a knife for the finer details. "Besides, if you get your heart broken again, I'm the one who'll have to deal with the monster finishing my 'all things dairy' supply."

Connor took off the white gloves and bunched them up. "Exaggeration much. That was one time man, one time! You just won't let it go will you?" He wondered if she was still there and which one of these lucky fuckers were tending to her. Would it hurt to just try and get one last peek?

'Probably. Should just let her be.'

"Think I'll call it a night."

The chef looked up. The smile hadn't gone anywhere. "Back to your torture cell huh?"

"Everyone has their skeletons, Kay," came the response. He went around the counter, over to the register to sign himself out.

The beating of a bowl's contents was heard to his right. "Yeah but not everyone's a masochist. However if she keeps you from attempting the impossible, then I'm not complaining."

Kyle made no secret of how much he hated Ivy. Truth be told; Even though his time was up for the day, he just wasn't sure home's where he wanted to be.

Connor made the routine rounds of goodnights and asked a workmate to cover his last table of brats for him before heading out the back exit.

--------------------------

Provided his bike was unavailable, then his way home consisted of taking a cheap taxi through the traffic, to the subway station. Or if he was in the mood for it, he'd simply stroll there. The night lights made for quite the view too.

All those lit up billboards and hung up screens, the flashing signs, the shop displays showcasing their merchandise - sure they were just adverts but they played their role in livening up the wet streets.

Despite being this late, it was still pretty lively. People looking for a fun night out were dressed for the occasion. You could still hear young couple's laughter in the air, mixed with the splash of recent rain water as cars sped on by.

Once through the subway entrance, he jogged down the stairs, a hand hovering above the bannister. It was cold down here. It seemed like there was a constant gust of wind always rushing to the surface.

The platform below was a sharp contrast to the streets above. It was barren, save for a couple of homeless beggars wrapped in torn blankets. He used to pity them. Now he'd learnt it was not his pity they wanted.

Here he would board a rickety old train. He always chose the fourth cart, and instead of sitting, he stood. It was only a two stop journey after all. But when you got off and stepped above ground, it might as well have been a different city.

Connor lived in a small part of town, where respectable folk wouldn't like to be seen. Ironically it was also where many of them found solace. This place is known as the red light district.

At least five nights a week, he'd walk through these pink tinted streets. Brothels, strip clubs, sex shops, among other establishments, lined up the avenue on both sides.

Every single corner was decorated by different brands of escorts. It never ceased to amaze him, how they appeared so comfortable wearing bare minimums in this kind of weather.

Yes. Living here demanded an impossible amount of discipline. Especially on the days when they were feeling particularly provocative. He just figured they got a kick out of teasing him.

'If my parents had any clue where I lived...'

He frowned at the look of disappointment he knew he'd get. This little detail would only serve as more ammunition his father could use to belittle him. He shrugged the thought off as his legs carried him up the stairs to his apartment building's front doors.

All in all, it was really just a fifteen minute journey. In fact you could just make out his home from the top of the hotel Panorlite was nested in.

So really. Why not just take the damn bike? Oh, oh right. His darling of a housemate ripped the chain. And by housemate, what he really meant is the girl that stays with him. The one who's really supposed to be his girlfriend but broke up with him and forgot to move out.

Talk about awkward living conditions.

"Is she home?" Connor asked the concierge after letting himself into the foyer. The man simply smiled an evil smile and nodded in way of reply.

'What, no witty comments or sarcastic lines today?'

The time read just after ten. It had been the same the day before. And the one before that too. Deliberating between a weekday and weekend was getting harder by the second.

What was it today? Tuesday? Wednesday? If it was Wednesday then wouldn't that mean he missed dinner with his family? But if that was the case then they would have called right?

'Damn. All this confusion without the use of beer. Seriously, what day is it?'

The lift door opened up with a clatter, goading him to step inside. These would be the death of him. Stairs would be easy if the twits he called his landlords would change the dead lights for working ones. Or at the very least just let him do it for their incapable selves. The elevator violently jerked upwards before his finger even left the dial.

'Yesus! Note to self. Get myself a damn...'

His view went down to the smartphone he'd just checked the time off and rotated it onto it's back to see the flashlight there.

'Never mind...'

The lift came to an abrupt stop and the doors pulled apart to reveal a knees bent Connor with a vice grip on the supporting rails. His phone lay discarded on the floor. Only the good lord himself knew why he tortured himself so.

Collecting himself, he escaped the ungodly machine and made his way down the passageway to door 1208. He held his breath.

'Here goes.'

This used to be his happy place. When he'd first come here looking for a place to rent, Willard and his wife had politely told him to scram since all their rooms were taken. He however made a nuisance of himself and insisted on that one room that they thought was uninhabitable.

They showed him up here. To the top floor where all the junk was thrown. Broken beds, stoves, tubs, room dividers, it was all here. A bargain was struck. If he could fix these and get them working again before the next month's auction, the place was his to rent at two thirds the price.

What desperation does is show people just how irrelevant self-designated limits really are. He'd finished in less than a fortnight using nothing but his hands and a toolbox.

Today he had one of the largest spaces in the building renovated into a neat bachelor pad by yours truly, and it barely made an impact on his wallet. Thing is, as of late, calling it a bachelor pad would have been pushing it, and not by a little.

Connor Shut the door behind him and stared into the lounge space, then across to the kitchen counter. Clothes littered the furniture. The one's belonging to Ivy he recognised. The others, not so much.

His feet walked him to the sofa where a ripped pantie lay discarded. He bought her those along with an entire pack of lingerie during last year's valentine. Apparently just for someone else to appreciate then vandalise on a whim. A fist clenched in attempt to control the hurt crawling through him.

So her and her muse had come in at the front door, chucking their respective jackets on his floor, just shy of the coat holder. They came over to his DVD collection, dropped a few before picking out the lone ranger seeing as it was still playing on screen; forty minutes in.

At that point they decided to hell with the movie and ripped their remaining clothes off. Hers went first and her boyfriend for the night's were removed on the way to the open kitchen. There they stole a bottle of wine, leaving the fridge open and breaking a glass in the process.

 

His eyes followed the trail of the spilt beverage around the dark wooden counter, down the short corridor to...

'My room?'

He stood staring at the wooden door in disbelief. True enough, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh was heard through the door.

Anger churned through him in droves as he picked up on her familiar cry. Where did she get such rampant nerve to go this far?

Right now, these assholes were having sex. In his room dammit! All she had to do was turn right but no... She just had to have his room too.

This, he did not have to tolerate. Not by a long shot.

 

------------

"So then what happened?"

"I knocked."

"You knocked?! This is you room bro and you knocked?!"

Connor felt the strong urge to throw the empty bottle as far as he could over the protective railing and into the river. Instead it found its way onto the pavement with the first one. The alcohol had already started to kick in. "It was locked. She always locks when she has someone over," he stated with a raspy voice.

The water they stared at reflected the bright lights of the buildings on the other side. The fountains would come on periodically along with their lighting, bathing the water in a rainbow of colours. He thought the view would help put him at ease. He was wrong.

It was almost midnight. Currently they were standing by the edge of a tree inhabited park, adjacent to the duplex Kyle lived in. It was quite the view from up on his roof too.

Kyle Graham pursed his lips in irritation. "I'm not amused. Please tell me you made some effort to save your dignity. You broke the door down, you took it off its hinges, you... did anything. Anything at all."

"I assumed the spare key would be an easier option." Connor called to mind the shock and horror on her face as she scrambled for decorum, ripping his orange sheets from the bed.

And the anger her partner portrayed at being interrupted before finishing. Not to mention the slew of insults thrown his way as the bastard insisted he get out of his own room and shut the door behind him.

"I told them both to leave. Her lover may have required a bit of inspiration first."

His best friend turned his head and looked on with hope. "You popped him?"

Connor shook his head. "I shoved his phone and wallet in a pillow and tossed it over the balcony. Figured he valued whatever was in there more than his precious ejaculation."

The chef nodded his head. "Smart. Not the route I would've taken personally but smart." He pushed off the rail, wrapped a hand around Connor's shoulder and pulled him to walk along the walkway as well. "So what's gonna happen to Ivy?"

An exasperated breath escaped Connor as they strode along. "She's obviously not going anywhere. You know that from experience."

It was almost hilarious how someone as stable minded as Kyle had such a powerful dislike for bad omens. He avoided every crack in the slabs like the plague. It also made him look homeless and bored, especially with the way he hopped about when walking on concrete. "Does she pay rent now?"

"No."

"Does she... dammit." He swore as he stepped on a crevice. "Does she cook?"

"No again."

Kyle opted for the lawn instead. "Jesus friggin' christ, does she at least do the laundry or help clean up?"

"Just her items," came a tired reply. "It's not like I actually asked anything of her though."

The other set of footsteps went silent abruptly. Connor however refused to stop. He was not looking forward to the interrogation that was soon to occur. Maybe calling this guy wasn't the smartest of choices right then. "Dude, you know where I'm going with this."

"Oh, I do. Believe me, I do," he confirmed, turning around to face his makeshift therapist. "But what do you want me to say?" His feet started reversing at the same pace his best friend approached. "That I'll go home, pack all her belongings and dump them on the street after taking a steaming shit on her favourite dress?"

"Only if it's true! Imagine how satisfying that would feel?" There was no one else in the park to hear him yell anyway. Let him shout. "Your wallet. Hand it over."

"What for?"

"Just throw it man."

A second later, a striped wallet flew through the air into Graham's hand. He opened it and pulled out a tiny grayscale photo. Connor rolled his eyes. More at himself than anything else. He just walked into that one didn't he?

 

"See? I haven't even seen this one before but I just knew it had to be in here. This right here is your problem dude." The photo was waved in the air before being discarded carelessly without a second thought. "You don't. Move. On! It's one thing to breakup. It's another thing to hear your ex whore herself to a different guy, every single night!" He finished throwing the wallet back.

 

"Um... It's not exactly every..." The look he got for the correction was interjection enough. Kyle had a point, that much wasn't disputed.

 

But it's not like you just wake up one day and decide not to love someone anymore. Feelings don't just disappear when someone ups and ends a relationship. No. Instead they haunt you like a reoccurring nightmare.

He had Ivy for an entire year. In that time they'd done everything humanly possible from Cape to Cairo.

We're talking hundreds of dates, two road trips, intercourse in every position they could look up online. They made numerous trips to the cinema and clubbing directly afterwards.

 

He had scores of hangovers in the mornings to show for it and every time, he swore he'd never go that hard ever again. She had him right back at it the next Friday, Saturday, and if he didn't put his foot down, then Sunday too.

The bitch had him love sprung. Not that he minded. No. In fact so much of his life, both present and future revolved around the heart ache in good faith she'd still be his for decades to come.

 

So imagine the damage when she tells him that the only reason she stuck around, had all that sex and told him all those sweet things he loved to hear, was because she needed somewhere to stay.

That as a foster child who failed the system, she had nowhere else to go. No parents, no siblings, no qualifications one could speak of to get her anywhere in life. Just public homes with one meal a day.

He didn't believe for a second that she wasn't more resourceful than that. That didn't go to say he liked the alternative either.

So the best three hundred and eighty-four days of his life turned out to be a total lie.

When you receive news like that, do you just kick them to the curb anyways and confirm their fears? Or could you live with yourself, trading a roof and food for sex and counterfeit love?

His feet spun him around to look where he was going. They were approaching the end of the trail by the main road.

Kyle caught up with him and kept pace at his left. "You're really gonna need to make up your mind on this one 'cause it's not going to stop bud'," he stated sombrely before giving him time to ponder. They walked at their own pace in silence and stopped by the asphalt, waiting for the road to clear.

The biggest issue Connor had with Kyle was his honesty. He never minced words or beat around the bush. His appreciation for how other people took his words was virtually non-existent.




The Exception



It's easy to tell the world what's wrong with it when you're without fault. It's also easy to be disliked for it.

The red man disappeared and the green man lit up.

Had one been looking from a distance, they'd think that the boys were brothers as they crossed the street. The way their steps were perfectly in sync right down to the bounce, both with hands in pockets, all done without the need to look at each other.

"Kay, tell me something."

"Yup?"

"You think there's anything wrong with me?" It's a question that had been plaguing his mind ever since that fateful day. He hadn't been too keen on knowing the answer though. His own denial was at fault there.

Kyle must have rolled his eyes right then. Even without looking, he just knew he did. "That's your self-conscious asking mate."

"And it would still like to know." 

The therapist pulled a hand out of the warm confines of his pocket, drawing a wallet along with it. "You know, we haven't gone out in a while," he said flipping through the notes inside it, "and I got about thirty bucks here."

Connor gave his friend a sceptical eye. "Off topic much."

"No I think it's very on topic," he answered almost too quickly, very sure of himself as they stepped back onto the sidewalk. "Allow me to get a little anal here. Your self-worth was weighed with her as the SI unit. You always saw yourself through her eyes. Now that she's gone, you don't really know what the benchmark is. Correct?"

Connor grimaced and looked for the best way to avoid the question. "What's your point?"

"You need a new measuring stick. One that can reassure your sense of self-awareness as a man as well as your right of self-centeredness."

"I'm not feeling emasculated okay."

"But you have been aggrieved." They walked past the entrance to the chef's place. Connor was about to point that out when Kyle continued. "Look, just forget everything I just said for now and concentrate on having a good time. You'll know what I'm talking about in the morning."

---------------

The blaring of an alarm was the first thing to greet him that Wednesday. So there were just two issues with that. The first being that of the ringing. A phone wasn't cable of making a sound on that high a decibel so it had to be real.

The second? He didn't own an alarm clock. Neither did the chef and if there's anything he remembered, it was not sleeping at home the previous night so it was definitely not Ivy's. No Ivy chucked hers out the window ages ago anyway.

He foolishly opened his eyes and was brutally assaulted by the morning sun shining brightly through an open window.

Immediately he shut his eyelids to slits and attempted to sit up from the bed he was currently in.

The thump of footsteps against floorboards were heard getting louder then suddenly, that incessant deafening shrill went dead.

"Sorry. This stupid thing is the reason most guys never call back."

His eyes snapped open.

'Holy sh...'

Before he even looked in the voices' direction, he first lifted the covers to eye level.

"Yeah, it happened," she answered before he could do the math.

The comforter came down slowly. A girl stood at the foot of the bed buttoning up her shirt, her legs still bare.

"I don't suppose you're sex legal." Something told him smarter things could have been said right then. She looked like a younger version of a Barbie doll though. Much younger. A fresh red hickey on the right of her neck confirmed her words.

She giggled as she threw a ten dollar note on the bed from her chest pocket. "You already asked that. I'm surprised you don't do this more often." What the blazes had he told her? Where was he anyways?

It was a brightly lit up, white themed room with a polished wooden floor. A study desk sat in the corner with a barrage of books stacked on it. A few ways to its right hung a wall mounted television set tuned to a music channel, yet the volume was on mute. Probably in consideration for those sleeping at the time.

Ignoring him she sauntered off to what appeared to be the bathroom, giving him a much appreciated view of her rump before the door blocked his vision.

Connor immediately jumped out of bed with new found adrenalin. This never happened. Ever.

For one, he was absolutely sure he'd remember screwing a babe that scored that high on the hotness ladder. Secondly...

'Where the fuck are my clothes?'

Normally the first rule of waking up with someone you don't know is to find out who the hell they are. She was in the bathroom so rummaging through the medicine cabinet for prescriptions wasn't an option.

Alternatively he could search through discarded junk mail or magazine subscriptions. If he was feeling downright rude, he could just go through her wallet sitting on the headboard.

'Or you could perhaps ask her.'

Sleeping with someone and forgetting the ordeal itself was normal, but most girls drew the line at forgetting their names.

This was a first for him. Partially thanks to the fact that he had not been getting laid a lot lately. Scratch that. He hadn't been getting any at all.

Which is why this came as a bombshell. He hadn't been too keen on getting involved with anyone else for the last couple of months. In fact, any activity he had in common with his ex was on his black list.

This included clubbing, eating out, renting movies, renting video games or conversations with new people that lasted more than thirty seconds.

As one would expect, his social life went on an endless downward spiral but it worked for him. This bubble he'd enclosed himself in was his security. There were no strings, no emotional obligations, no expectations and most importantly, no hurt. He didn't have to care about anyone but himself.

'What a breach of protocol. Kay if you got anything, anything at all to do with this...'

With that last thought he paused and gave himself a mental slap before twirling around and falling to the bed. Yesterday night's conversation was called to mind. Of course he'd have a hand in it.

'You'll know what I'm talking about in the morning he said. Yeah I don't recall shit.'

A lofty smile found its way onto his features. "I don't suppose the name 'Kyle' means anything to you?" he called out.

The door cracked open and a head emerged with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. "Nope. Though if I'm to take a guess I'd say he's the one that tapped your ass on your way out." Her head vanished from sight but the door remained open.

'He's gotta stop doing that.'

"Seen my boxers? They may or may not have a purple dinosaur printed on them."

"Where you left them china. On the sofa with the rest of your clothes. Rather manly by the way."

He currently owned a splitting headache, every sound made seemed to be conveyed through earphones and he remembered nothing of the previous night besides bottles, music and... a dog? Yet he still felt better than he had on any other morning of the year.

 

He raised his legs and dropped them, using the shift in weight to propel him back onto his feet and made his way to the living room, naked as a pinkie.

 

It wasn't hard to find. Her place was small but well decorated and neat. He took his time to appreciate the scent of femininity other than that he'd become so accustomed to.

It was mixed with that of ready pancakes. The doll had actually gone through the effort to fold his clothing.

The familiar vibrating of his cell phone found its way to his ears as he approached. Naturally he picked it up and answered without looking at the name tag.

"Well?!" The privilege of saying hello wasn't even offered.

"Yeah, I don't remember much," he replied honestly. He wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't better that way though.

"Yeah me neither but if you did everything right she should owe you ten bucks."

Connor blinked at that remembering the note back in the room. "What for?"

"You made a bet that you could give her a multiple or something like that."

There was a pause on his end of the line. "What?"

Kyle laughed. "I swear. I got most of the conversation on record actually. Fucking hilarious. Get your belongings and get to work pronto. I got your change of clothes with me."

The line went dead without goodbyes either. His hand lowered the phone and he regarded it like it was the crazy one.

'I don't even know how to give a multiple.'

His rolled down the notification bar to reveal a couple of missed calls. Four from Ivy and another from an unknown number. Right now, he was not about that life. After yesterday, all his mind wanted to do was forget she even existed. A sharp contrast to when his relationship first fell to pieces.

Back then he tried to save it in every way he could think of. Gifts, lunches, anything that meant wasting time together.

None of it was entertained though. She soon made it apparent verbally and by behaviour she wanted very little to absolutely nothing to do with him.

Then the sex started. She left little tell-tale signs at first. The traces they left in the air, the wet patch on the couch he'd since thrown out. Then it started happening in earnest while he was around.

She at least used to make the effort to muffle her screams. Then she stopped trying entirely and could be heard being slammed against the thin wall dividing his room to the shared bathroom, often knocking down the hung up picture frames or trophies shelved on his side.

At that point there was nothing more he would have loved than to take the door apart, rip the asshole's dick off and feed it to them both without salt. The same amount of time in an electric chair would have been by far less torture than to know it was happening under his roof.

He just settled for headphones though. And when those weren't loud enough, he hung over at Kyle's or his sister's place. This had become a very regular practice as of late.

It really did have to stop. But he wasn't in the mood to deal with her today. Nothing was going to crap on his day. Least of all her.

When Connor turned around to change, the last thing expected was the twenty centimetre tall Chihuahua sitting in front of him and vigorously wagging its tail. He crouched down for a better view.

"So I remember you and not the earth shattering hump. Ladies and gentlemen I present to you another wonder of the human mind... Freaking unjustified."

A hand went to scratch it behind the ears in which it delighted in. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His eyes went to follow her around the corner and into the kitchen. She was fully dressed in uniform. Her skirt rode a little short on the thighs.

Provided she was wearing the same thing last night then he just lived out a top fantasy he'd never get to remember. "Oh come on, he seems friendly." He scratched harder and its leg went crazy. "You wouldn't harm a fly would you?"

She giggled. "It's begging. Right now your cock over there looks a lot like the sausages I give her in the mornings." She called out. "Good luck getting it back. It'd be such a waste too. You don't get them like that anymore." His hand froze. "Now could you please put some clothes on? I got shit to do today, and I can't do it if I'm still here playing with that."

'The mouth on her...'

After getting clothed, five pancakes and a tap on a butt cheek later, he was springing over to the nearest subway, ten dollars richer. No sir, nothing could rain on this parade today.

The vibrations in his pocket started again. Once again he answered it without looking. If it was his ex, he could easily just cut.

"Yello?"

"Good day Sir. Am I speaking to Connor Forrest?" He spoke with an Asian accent. Japanese or something.

"Bingo. Who's this?"

"My name is Sinned Okajima and I'm calling from Amalgam Enterprises concerning an outstanding account you have with us."

That caught his attention. His feet stopped dead in the middle of the zebra crossing. He hadn't even heard of the name before. "And by outstanding you mean I owe you money."

 

"Indeed." he affirmed. "Is it possible you come in sometime and we discuss a resolution in person?"

A car horn blared at him, unceremoniously jerking him out of his shock. He tread over to the other side. "Um... Yeah. Sure... Sure. So where exactly are you?" Last he checked, the only debt he had was the student loan and paying that back was already breaking his bank enough. Where then was this coming from?

"On Knight and First. Just ask to talk to me, give them your name and you'll be escorted up." He spoke fluently and so sure of himself. Right now he was the exact opposite, still scouring his memory for any link between the names and a past event.

"Okay, which offices though?"

The man laughed softly, "Our building takes up the entire block, sir. It should be very difficult to miss."

'What the..? Am I being pranked or something?'

First Street was smack dab in the middle of the high rollers business district. It was Wall Street equivalent really, and one didn't just pitch up there without a sound purpose. He couldn't be any more certain they had made a mistake.

It was just going to be a quick in out meeting. They'd settle the misunderstanding and he'd be home free to carry on with the rest of his life "Alright. I think I can make it there this morning."

"Very well Mr. Forrest. I look forward to seeing you soon." The line went dead and for the second time that morning, Connor was left staring at his phone. A feeling of dread touched his whole being. Something was clearly wrong with his life and he didn't know what.

----------

 

"Okay that's blooming huge!" he exclaimed stepping out of the car and shutting the door. 

The dark haired woman by the other door shook her head in amusement. She had a corporate look about her. The kind that bordered on the classy side rather than professionally rigid. "You really don't follow current affairs much do you?" she teased locking the doors. "Amalgam is basically the second largest private investment group on this side of planet earth.

"I believe it broke off from its HQ in Japan just five years ago using a loophole in the franchise's terms of operation. Funny enough, only a year after that did, their new chairman, the one who facilitated the separation in the first place, end up in a coma or something."

They started making their way to the building's front double doors. Or more accurately; those giant glass gates only made out to look like doors. He took a spin around. The place had its own miniature park running around the block and they had to walk about a hundred meters just to touch the front steps.

The construction itself was only about twenty or so floors high, but it made up for that in width. Sinned wasn't joking. It was all blue tinted glass windows from the ground up. Not a single brick or metal frame in sight. Since it was still early on, the sun still hung low on the other side allowing them to see all those busy people going about their work in the offices.

"They probably wanted to make an example out of him. Not many western countries have the best of relations with Japan after all," He replied, still in marvel of the place. "It makes international corporate law a fairly easy thing for any franchise to skirt around with all the contradictions it has with domestic clauses. Take indigenisation for example."

 

She gave him a surprised smile. "I'm impressed. Then again you were always pegged for the smartest of us all so I suppose I shouldn't be. Partially why I'm mortified to hear you have no idea who these people are."

Connor gave the man passing a curt nod and he bowed in return. Lots of Asian folk here. "You were the straight 'A' student Emma."

"Some good that's done me..." She muttered under her breath. "I always imagined myself doing something a little bigger than crunching numbers."

"What? Woman, you're in one of the largest accounting firms in the city. Don't play it down."

His older sister nudged him thankfully in the ribs just before they jogged up the stairs. So why would a billion dollar investment firm be so concerned about a bit of chump change that he might owe to them?

They walked into the massive foyer area where suits were entering and leaving. Emma would have fit in quite nicely with them. There was the UN seal parked on the reception wall as well as that of the EU, African Union and even that of the SADC.

'Talk about humanitarian.'

"Right... So how much do you owe these people again?"

He looked at Emma and shrugged his shoulders. They looked alike. Both had high cheekbones, barely tameable brown hair, almond shaped eyes, and the same straight nose. Facial features were well curved to give them both that mainstream look.

Connor bet if she never trimmed her eyebrows then those would look exactly the same too.

She was feminine in every sense though so he stood a good foot taller than her.

Besides that last difference, he felt she took away his sense of individuality. "I didn't ask. I'm thinking it's an error on their part. I mean really. Wouldn't someone remember coming to a place like this?" It was stated with conviction but the auditor still had a look of apprehension plastered on her.

They finally reached the guest counter and his sister spoke for him. "Hello. We're looking for a Mr. Sinned Okajima."

The receptionist looked like your traditional geisha and dressed like one too. From the bun held together by oversized hair pins to the floral kimono wrapped around her and tied in by an oversized bow. "I trust you have an appointment."

"Not with a timestamp, but he's expecting us all the same. Lookup Mr. C. Forrest."

The lady raised her head for the first time with interest and then confusion. "Oh."

She pushed the power button on her screen and said something in a foreign language to the attendant next to her. "Wait here please." She disappeared through a sliding wooden door behind her engraved in symbols and traditional art.

A minute later the same woman, scared the bejesus out of them when she popped up at their rear. They followed her through a large glass hallway into an open courtyard. It was a hexagon in shape full of green trees, lawn, vines and fern plants. Among them were benches and tables that people of the same ethnicity populated. It was actually more of a tropical greenhouse rather than a park.

Above were walkways connecting opposite ends of the building. They headed for the transparent elevators located in the centre. One of which propelled them all the way to the top. From the landing, they were led in silence down an unused walkway onto a balcony. There the geisha got down on her knees then sat on her heels with her side to the glass. Three sharp taps ensured.

"Are we still in America?"

"I don't... know."

The wall slid to the side to reveal a man standing up from his desk. It was almost bare save for a laptop, what seemed to be a diary, spectacles and a pencil.

"Kindly enter," she instructed. They obeyed. Emma seemed to have much more of her composure about her as she went straight to shake his hand and exchange pleasantries.

'Freaking corporate stiffs always making the rest of us look like idiots in situations like this.'

The office was squiggly clean from the floor to ceiling. Everything sparkled making him feel dirty, even after a fifteen minute shower at work and fairly decent formal clothing.

Besides the curved metal table and white chairs, there was only a file cabinet. Nothing else. All his equipment could fit in a janitor's closet so why all the space?

"... And this lad here is my brother. Connor." His head turned to face the man at the mention of his name. If he was to guess, he'd say early to mid-forties. He owned the Asian corporate look like an otaku owned Halo.

"Ah yes, we spoke earlier. Wise of you to come with a witness might I add." The low respectful bow only served to make him feel even more uncomfortable but he reciprocated it after a hard nudge in the ribs. "Please take a seat. I apologise, tea time has just passed so I have nothing to offer in the way of meals."




The Exception To All Rules



The atmosphere in the overcrowded room was light, jovial. Most of the inhabitants were either drunk, stoned, or drunk and stoned, but Megan was the exception to all rules. She sat on a small wooden bench in a corner watching her friends sway to the beat of the music. Julia was completed obliterated currently and dancing dangerously close to her crush. Deanna was dancing with Rose and trying to avoid the hungry glances of several of the men in the room. That was usually the case when Dee had recently had her heart broken: she avoided anything with a penis.

Megan sighed. The truth was, she too should be avoiding all that is male in this room and this house party. She had simply been dragged here because that's what friends that wanted to party did: they dragged their other friends along for the ride. So here she was sitting alone and watching her lover- who could simply never be her boyfriend- DJ a set of tunes that included Akon, Usher, and Lil Jon screaming, "YEAH! OKAY!"

"If you were to be with me," his voice was deep and masculine, promising that his words were the truth and only, "you would never be second best. You would not be a dirty little secret." There was a low growl from somewhere inside his chest as he leaned further into my neck. "You would never want to be anything less than owned by me," he teased and coaxed. "Say you want me to make you mine."

The truth was that I wanted to belong to someone, anyone, who would not make me the second best baby. Alas, my current relationship was fairly simple: I was the Other Woman. My lover had a famous girlfriend that he was not going to leave for my unknown name, and it was just that terribly, unfortunately simple. Here I stood before one of his best friends being offered a chance at something more. 

"I won't leave you to suffer in silence for a second," he assuaged with a soft nibble of my earlobe. "You'll be at my side always."

"What if I don't want that?" I challenged. But I did. I wanted to be owned and kept. It was my inner-submissive, I suppose.

"But you do want that," he stated as his hands began to wander down my ribs. His fingers dipped low and began to massage my stomach, working towards the waist of my jeans. Clearly, he intended to seduce me in full view of our friends and the band's road crew. I wasn't going to swing that way. "You want to be wanted," he purred and grazed teeth over my earlobe.

Tension filled my body and mixed and swirled with the passion and lust that he was exciting in me. And so, left with the choice, I made no choice at all. I simply whispered: "Take me somewhere private."

Within an hour, we were back at the hotel for the night, sequestered into the privacy of his single room. He had wasted not a drop of time, pushing me against the door as we entered the dark room. "You want me," he taunted with his tongue. "And you're going to let me own you."

As he spoke, he was removing the simple black leather belt from his battered old jeans. He smirked as he wound the item around his knuckles in a power display. "I'm going to tie you up," he stated as he raised my arms above my head with his left hand. "And then I'm going to take my time with you. Does he take his time with you?"

"No," I confessed. He couldn't take his time with me: he has a girlfriend to attend to. I was simply there for his erotic release. To try and put it into any other terms would be a lie. "He can't take his time."

"He could," he grinned as he wrapped the belt around my wrists and hooked it onto a piece of metal protruding from the door. "He could show you such pleasure, if he only wanted to. I want to show you the world. Do you want me to take you on a journey?"


"Yes," I whispered.

"Say my name," he demanded as he ran his large hands up underneath my t-shirt. "Say my name."

"Yes," I breathed heavily. "Yes, Paul."

He looked satisfied with this. "I want you to scream for me. Be loud. Be wild. I want you to come alive tonight."

"But, I-"

A finger pushed against my lips. He grinned. "No. There are no exceptions to any rule tonight. We are going to do things that you never dreamed were possible. And when it's all over, if you believe you can go back to him-" he allowed his voice to grow softer and softer before trailing off. "I'm going to make you forget," he smirked. He took that moment to lift my t-shirt over my head. I had not worn a bra. He smirked. "So beautiful." I was silent as he stepped back and eyed my body with a certain determination and hunger. He licked his lips and then smirked. "Are you in any pain?"

"No."

"Good," he winked. "I'll be right back."

I fought feebly against the restraint of his belt. I didn't want to escape and I had nowhere to go but into the bed. I was over the romance and wanted the pain. So I waited. He returned quickly with a candle and a look of sheer lust. 

"This won't hurt," he whispered as he tilted the candle over my chest. Hot wax dripped down onto my breasts. Some dripped down as low as my nipple before hardening in place. There was no pain, only a strange burning from the heat. He grinned. "You like that, don't you."

"It didn't hurt," I observed with a smile.

"Good baby," he assuaged, running a hand through my hair. "Here comes more," he laughed as he tilted the candle over my nipples and then beside my stomach. Again, the sensation was awkward but not painful. "You're a kinky little minx," he grinned as he blew out the candle and reached up toward my hands. "I need to get you on the bed now."

He carried me quickly across the room and set me down gently, a strange contradiction from the hot wax play of moments before. The mattress was soft and smelled like lilies, and the sheets underneath were red silk. He watched me as I made these observations, grinning with each new realization that crossed my face. He had planned this night. He had plans. Big plans. "Do you like it?" he whispered low into my ear. "Do you like what I've done for you?" I nodded gently, barely a movement of my head. "Does he do these things for you?" he prodded further. "Does he seduce you?"

No. He does not. But I tried to forget that and to allow myself to only feel the here and now. Paul's strong hands kneading the flesh of my shoulder as his lips breathed hot moisture onto my neck. I was covered in hardened wax. I was marked.

"I am going to do things to you," he sat up and gestured for me to join him. "Things that you didn't dream were possible." He gestured me further back on the bed, against the headboard. His movements were cocky and assured as he propped pillows behind me and set me about like a display, a naked porcelain doll. "You make a perfect toy," he observed almost simultaneously with my thoughts.

Moments later, he had added restraints to my wrists and tethered them to the frame of the bed. I was oddly comfortable, but my movement was severely limited. This had clearly been his goal because a gentle nod assured me that he was certain he had achieved results. He smirked, "Now I am going to mark you."

He retrieved a lighter from his pocket and adorned a deviant grin. "This might hurt a bit," he offered flatly as he raised my right arm up slightly. Seconds later there was a searing pain as he burned the flesh of the underside of my arm. The smell was nauseating; the pain was only slightly bearable. The result was a small "P" burned into my flesh at that exact point. He gazed at his work proudly. "You are mine now," he assured me. "I cannot send you back to him like this."

Tenderness returned to his features as he placed the lighter onto the bedside table and began stroking my long brunette hair. His erection pressed against the fabric of his jeans, dangerously attempting to rub against the softness of my thigh. I cooed at this feeling, wanting to feel him without this foreign barrier between us. He obliged quickly, removing his pants and allowing our skins to touch. "Beg me to put this inside of you," he demanded as he held himself in the grip of his fist. "Beg me to make you scream my name."

"Please."

"Please, what?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Paul," I licked my lips. "Please."

"Are you sure you want this?" he exaggerated his caresses, running his hand along his length and placing his thumb over his tip. He squeezed himself and grinned. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

"Please," I begged again. It was a game. I could play this game. I would forget about my lover and my burnt flesh, my credit card bills and my rent payments. I could be his slut for one night if that was what was required of me.

He pushed my thighs apart gently, watched my every reaction. With a sly smirk, he placed his thumb onto my clitoris. I reacted vocally. "Mmm, you like that," he smiled proudly. "Do you want more of that, baby?"

"Yes."

"Or do you want this?" he questioned as he allowed the tip of his cock to graze over my clitoris. Needles tipped with the nectar of the God's jabbed into my spine. I wanted whatever touch he would give me. He knew this. He continued to rub himself on my moistness. "Do you want me to be soft and gentle?" he was laughing. "Or do you want me to hurt you with this?"

"Hurt me."

"I can't hear you," he grinned.

"Hurt me, Paul. Please."

Quickly, he thrust inside me until his fist was buried against my labia and there was not an inch of space between us. He removed his hand and brought it to his lips, smirking. His tongue traced over a moistened finger, and he tasted my body on his skin. Then he offered me a chance. "Drink," he demanded. "You taste like honey."

I sucked his finger as he slammed his body forcefully into mine. He bottomed out and I felt pain. I reacted immediately and he smiled. We played this game as I sucked his finger and begged. I wanted to hurt and be taken; I wanted to be owned and subjected. But most of all, I believe that I wanted the pain because I deserved the pain. And Paul had somehow seen this undiscovered match lurking deep inside of me, and he had been observantly attracted and lustfully quick to light the flame.

"I'm going to hurt you now," he growled as he reached onto the bedside table again. "But you will be better for this pain."

"Hurt me, Paul."

He brandished a small needle and raised it up for me to see. "I'm going to pierce your flesh with this needle, as I am piercing your body with my cock," he breathed heavily. 

"Yes," I moaned. "Yes."

"A souvenir of our fuck," he winked as he placed the sharp point against the tender pink skin of my right nipple. "Take a breath," he demanded as he pulled himself nearly out of my body. He perched in that awkward position for a long moment before he drove himself and the needle into my skin in unison. The resulting feeling was of being completely filled and owned. The pulsing in my nipple served to escalate the pleasure between my legs. I screamed and forced myself further onto his cock. "Look at yourself," he prodded. "So beautiful."

I opened my eyes to the sight of blood trickling softly down my chest. The needle was perfectly centered in my nipple. Paul was perfectly placed between my thighs and his cock was glistening in the overhead lights. "Do the other one," I pleaded. "Please, Paul. Pierce me."

"You're a good baby," he ran his hands through my hair again and the feeling was electric. He worked inside me in short, driving strokes before he reached again to the table for a second needle. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, please do it."

"You're a doll," he smiled as he again pulled almost completely from my body and thrust inside as he pierced my left nipple. This time, the pain outweighed the pleasure. I felt my breasts light on fire. I screamed and tossed my head from side to side. I had wanted this. I did want this. I waited for the pain to subside and it didn't. It only grew with intensity as he slid small rings into the piercings, and a new fire lit. "You're hurting," he observed as he clamped beads into each ring and grinned. "I can stop the pain for you. I can ease your suffering."

And with that, he brought my right nipple into the warmth of his mouth. He swirled the wetness of his tongue over the sore nub, and the pain subsided for a moment. Instead, I felt my clitoris light with desire. "Please, Paul," I begged. "Fuck me."

His cock slid back inside me, he growled with entry and brought his mouth down onto my left nipple. The feeling was overwhelming and erotic. I felt my orgasm nearing as he rubbed his thumb in slow circles over my clit and worked his tongue in a matching pattern around my areola. "Are you close?" he questioned gently.

"So close, yes."

"I'm going to cum inside of you," he stated simply and rubbed my clit faster. "I'm going to fill you," he grinned and ran the tip of his tongue over the soft space between my breasts. "Beg for it!"

"Please, Paul," I begged pathetically. "Please make me cum!"

"Fuck yes," he growled and thrust deeply.

"Please," I breathed as I ran my fingernails over his strong back. I felt the muscles contract there, and I dug deeper into his skin drawing blood. "Please fuck me, Paul."

"Yes," he growled like a great jungle cat. "Yes."

"I'll mark you," I grinned as I drew more of his blood out and onto my fingers. "I'll make you mine."

"Yes."

"And then we'll belong to each other."

"Yes," he roared.

"Do you want to belong to me?" I asked softly as I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him deeper inside of me. I didn't want to lose a drop when he came. I wanted everything he had to offer me. And more.

"Yes," he whispered as he glanced up and met my gaze. His eyes shone with a furious brown fire. "I want you."

We came simultaneously, a feat that I had never been able to achieve with any previous lover. And then there was the languid silence as he collapsed on top of me and crushed my new piercings to the heat of his chest. There was a moment of white heat before I felt a second, smaller orgasm rock my body.

Paul raised up onto his forearms and smirked down at me. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yes. And no."

"Are you alright?" he inquired softly, curiously.

"I'm fine," I smiled. 

He nodded and allowed himself to collapse beside me. He placed his pinkie inside the small hoop on my left nipple and grinned. "That was the most erotic moment of my life."

"Mine too," I agreed with a gentle nod.

"And you really can't go back to him now," he continued with a hoarse whisper. "You're mine now and he will know it." He paused for a long moment. Silence filled the room as his body spooned against mine. Finally, I felt him grin into my neck. "I'm keeping you, you know. There's no arguing it. I own you now."

I glanced at the dried wax across my body and the dried blood on my hands and underneath my fingertips. There was a small mark on my arm where he had burnt his first initial into my flesh. I grinned. "You own me, Paul." I turned to face him and wrapped my arms around to his back, tracing the outline of a deep scratch mark. He hissed. I only smirked brighter. "And I own you."