Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – It’s Making Me Insane 1
Chapter 2 – Even Wilder, Huh? 12
Chapter 3 – You Can’t Stop 22
Chapter 4 – A Penchant for Drama 29
Chapter 5 – A Slut Like Me 38
Chapter 6 – They’re All Forcing Me 44
Chapter 7 – Star of a Wild Sex Party 52
Chapter 8 – I’d Have to Say What I Am 57
Chapter 9 – Crave Something You Don’t Have 63
Chapter 10 – No Divinity for You 69
Chapter 11 – A Pair of Red Shoes 75
Chapter 12 – I Want More 78
Chapter 13 – Like Someone Could Grab It 88
Chapter 14 – Oh God. Frat Chat 2. 92
Chapter 15 – What Laura Would Say 95
Chapter 16 – What You Really Are 99
Chapter 17 – Like It’s Meant to Be 105
Chapter 18 – You Up for a Real Interview? 112
Chapter 19 – Just Play Along 116
Chapter 20 – So Pretty Kneeling There 123
Chapter 21 – Is That What You’re Offering Us? 128
Chapter 22 – God, What an Experience 146
Chapter 23 – You Need More of It 154
Chapter 24 – Get Yourself Sexed Up 159
Chapter 25 – We Also Play for Keeps 164
Chapter 26 – Quite Good at Following Orders 171
Chapter 27 – You Need to Be Ready 176
Chapter 28 – In Very High Heels 179
Chapter 29 – It’s Not Life or Death 186
Chapter 30 – My, Uh, My Urges? 189
Chapter 31 – Both Doing Fun Stuff Tonight 194
Chapter 32 – Any Tasty Drops 197
Chapter 33 – All Types of Talent 202
Chapter 34 – Just a Soft Little Thing 209
Chapter 35 – For Our Amusement 218
Chapter 36 – A Plaything Only for Fun 223
Chapter 37 – I Think I Want a Turn 228
Chapter 38 – Her Dirty Lips Found It 232
Chapter 39 – Quite a Helpless Thing Now 240
Chapter 40 – All Used-Up 246
Chapter 41 – God, She Feels So Good 256
Chapter 42 – You Wouldn’t Believe Me 264
Chapter 1 – It’s Making Me Insane
Amos kept his back straight and stiff and barely touching the couch cushion behind him. When he cocked his head to listen for any signs of life in the quiet house, he sensed only an abode suddenly devoid of sound from his muting of the TV.
Despite the thing’s silence, it kept spraying its chaotic colors around the living room, strobing its invasive light onto every wall, furnishing, and the trimmed, graying beard of the silent, attentive man on the couch displaying his enviable posture.
Not respecting the timing of the TV’s flashing, the clock on the wall tapped out its usual steady beat, dragging his existence along. So many seconds had clicked through the house since the previous Sunday morning, when Amos had staggered in from crashing on another couch, away from home after a Frat Chat night with Emilio and the whiskey bottle they’d shared and drained dry.
Already, a week had passed since Amos had found Lenore, his fiancé, the owner of the house and a respected local business owner, comfy on their couch, wrapped in a layer of thick flannel pajamas which was buried and largely unseen beneath an even thicker robe.
And every night since then, he’d honored his promise to leave that heated conversation—that talk burning with realizations and passion and lust—to cool some and let them get back to their comfortable, baseline relationship.
With his thumb still squeezing the remote, crushing it toward eternal silencing of the flat screen hanging on the wall, he muttered only for himself to hear, “It’s been long enough.”
Somewhere beyond the dim light of the living room, hidden in more complete darkness, a door closed with a soft, controlled thump.
He tossed the remote to the couch, focusing next on the bead of sweat tickling down his forehead, causing a harsh swipe, then a flicking away of the moisture.
“Yes, like that. Why did I wait a week to even think of this?”
He blanked off his grin and held his breath at the sound of slippers scuffing across the hardwood floor, approaching.
Then, her shapeless form, again cloaked by the same bulky robe tied neatly at her waist, appeared at the entrance. Her eyes, big and beautiful and boasting a fresh innocence, stayed focused on the quieted TV. And her hair, long and thick and blond, showed none of its length and waves from how she’d bound and constrained it all in a neat bunch that left not a strand to escape and hang free.
Still hearing the scraping of slippers, Amos glanced lower, then scoffed silently at the sight of the baggy pajama pants that bunched up around her worn footwear, hiding the loose white socks that he knew were wrapped up in there too.
Watching her tight blond knot mounded over a face without expression as she walked past him, around the coffee table, Amos said, “Lenore, it’s been a week.”
Without looking or even slowing, she said, “So?”
She continued around, then sat on her end of the couch, leaving an expansive flat fabric field between them, barren except for the remote, which she grasped, pointed, and began clicking.
“I’ve been, uh, patient. You know I have.”
“Yeah, and you should be,” she said, each word timed with a channel change.
He squinted, unseen by her, as he focused on the delicate beads of sweat on her temple, a light pattern on her smooth cheek, and a distinct wet shine beginning at the tip of her earlobe.
“It’s just that, uh, you must remember what—”
Still pointing but not switching, she turned her head to face him.
“What I like more than anything?” she said, bouncing her head once with a patient smile. “You like hearing me say that, don’t you?”
“Oh, God, yeah. And what I can’t get over is how much I like that it’s true.”
“Amos,” she said, her smile turning into a pained version of one, “sure, it’s fun to say. Just because you heard me fantasizing in the bedroom that one time, it doesn’t mean—”
“I, uh . . . I did what?”
“You heard me. A girl’s allowed to have some fantasies. You shouldn’t have been snooping around at the door.”
“Oh,” he said, still studying the tiny bits of sweat dotting her skin. “Oh! Oh, I get it. Yeah, I heard you talking about some fantasy through the door. Huh. I get it.”
“Well, yeah, and I might even say it again sometime.”
She was monitoring the changing scenes as she clicked, and he said, “Uh, how about now?”
Without looking, she said, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Yeah, now. Say it.”
She turned to him, took a breath, and before she could speak, he said, “Maybe lose that robe, though, huh?”
“The robe? Last week, you were kind of thrilled by my modesty while I whispered that in your ear.”
“Yeah. My God, that was something. The contrast. Hot and cold.”
“Hmm. Hot and cold.”
“Speaking of which, aren’t you hot in all that?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah. Why’s it so hot in here?”
“Beats me, Lenore, but you’d feel better if you got out of that robe.”
“It is awfully hot in this house.”
“The pajamas too. You’d be more comfortable when you’re sitting on my lap, whispering to me that what you like most is—”
She snorted out a sharp laugh and said, “Oh, wait a second. Amos, you cranked up the furnace? That’s your plan?”
“I, uh, might have mistakenly dialed it higher than—”
“It was no mistake. Amos, you’re terrible. I’m not playing along with this.”
“Fine,” he said, on the verge of pouting. “Keep yourself all bundled up, but say it. Say it, Lenore, even from way over there.”
“No. Stop it.”
“Come on. You can’t deny it—not to me. I know.”
“You don’t know anything. You can’t hold me to some nonsense I was saying alone in the bedroom just for fun.”
“Yeah. Sure. Alone? Huh.”
“Amos, leave me alone. And don’t mess with the furnace anymore.”
“Forget the furnace. Tell me, Lenore. Say it.”
“No.”
“Tell me what you are. Tell me how all you really want to be is a―”
“Amos! Just stop!”
She clattered the remote onto the end table and stood, pulled her belt tighter, then hiked quickly around the table, saying, “It’s just too hot. Don’t play this furnace game anymore, alright?”
“Hey.”
She stopped close to him, then turned to face him.
“Come on. Say it. Say it because we both know it’s true.”
“You’ll quit pestering me if I do?”
Laughing, he said, “Lenore, you know I can’t promise that. You’re making me crazy. The hot and cold—it’s making me insane.”
“Fine,” she said, then took a step closer, then another, then enough that she stood with her legs, still hidden away under endless layers of thick cloth, on each side of his as he sat without any slouching on the couch.
He stared up at her faint smile, then focused on her hands, the nails nice but not fabulous, as she untied her robe’s belt, then pulled it open. With both hands, she bunched up the baggy cloth around her waist, showing how slim it was and seeming to magnify the size of her breasts, which were only large, round mounds locked away behind the plaid cloth.
“Mm,” she said as she gave them both a slow squeeze.
“God . . .”
“Mm, I’m so soft and smooth everywhere under all of this flannel.”
“You, uh . . . you . . .”
He looked up higher, away from her hands that couldn’t hold entirely what she was fondling, to see her sliding her tongue across the top lip, then the bottom.
“And what I love most, Amos, is . . .”
“Yeah? Yeah?”
“. . . is being a . . .”
His breaths were short and raspy, and his lips quivered but couldn’t form any actual speech.
“Slut. Uh-uh. Yeah, Amos, you heard that. More than anything at all, I love being a total slut.”
“Oh my God.”
“See how I’m all wrapped up in pajamas and robes and things?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“Hmm, under all that, I’m just a slut.”
“Oh God. A slut for, um, for . . .”
“Mm. Anyone. No . . . everyone.”
“Because . . .”
“Because being a slut is all I’m good for—nothing else. All I really am is a slut.”
“Oh God . . .”
“That makes you crazy, Amos? Yeah, I look so modest, but I’m just . . .”
“A slut? You’re really just a slut?”
“Mm. Mm-hmm.”
She laughed while snapping shut her robe, then tied a quick knot.
“Happy now?”
“Uh, I mean, but you really—”
Scoffing as she walked out of the room, she said, “Where’s that damn thermostat?”
Lenore leaned back into the closed bedroom door, smiling still, and listened to the quiet of a house without its furnace cooking her alive inside her flannel. She waved one hand around, feeling the air already cooling.
“How could that be?” she said softly as she began walking toward the bed and its weakly glowing lamps on each nightstand.
She threw aside the covers, reached for her robe’s belt, then left it alone.
“You heard me one time, in here, alone, saying some crazy things just for fun. And that’s enough to turn you into some kind of . . . oh, I don’t even know what.”
She’d sat on her side of the bed only a second before she sprang back up and strode over to switch off the lamps. The feeble nightlight took up the slack, distributing just enough light for a careful walk back to the bed.
Sitting again, she scoffed at the sound of the furnace launching into its campaign, directed by Amos, to coerce her to strip off at least the outer shell.
“Oh, come on, Amos. Stop with the heat.”
She stayed seated, kicking enough to send her ratty slippers off toward the dresser, and listened to his footsteps drawing near. They stopped only when the doorknob gave a soft rattle, enabling the door to swing in.
Her eyes had adjusted to the low light level, and she saw his arm first as he reached in and flipped the switch, filling the room with lamplight.
“Amos. Not the lights. Come on. Not the furnace either. I’m going to roast.”
With a silly grin, he stepped inside and shut the door, then waited with his hand poised to hit the switch again.
“I’ll make a deal. We can do without those lamps, but the furnace is performing an essential function. You know what I mean.”
“You’re trying to burn me out of the robe?”
“Uh-huh. Keep going.”
“Oh—the pajamas too.”
“Yeah, all of it. Strip first, then I’ll switch off the light. That’s the deal.”
“Amos, you’re being ridiculous. Just because I said that—”
“We both know what you said, and we both know you mean it.”
He left the lights on and walked to stand in front of her. She remained seated, bundled up, her hair fully under control.
“Amos.”
“Stand up, lose the robe, get rid of those god-awful pajamas, and―”
“They’re god-awful?”
“For a woman like you? Oh, yeah. Get rid of all of it. Stand here for me just in your panties and,”—he paused to glance toward the closet—“and some heels. Really high ones. A woman like you—”
“Amos, stop it! A woman like me, you said—just panties and heels for your amusement?”
“Well, yeah. It’s been a week, Lenore. Strip. Let that hair down too.”
“Even the hair, huh?”
“Yeah, let me see all that soft, smooth skin. You’re good for sex, right?”
“Well, I, uh—”
“And nothing else?”
“Amos. You’d better—”
“That’s all you’re good for. You know why.”
“Because I’m a—”
“Yeah, you sure are a—”
“Amos, stop. This isn’t funny anymore.”
“After you strip and show off how sexy you are, you can sit right back down. Do you know why?”
She watched one of his hands fumbling around by his zipper.
“Amos. Stop it. No.”
He snapped both hands to his hips and said, “Oh, wait. I know what a woman like you wants.”
Looking up at him, shaking her head slowly, she said, “And what is that, Amos?”
“Huh. You want a crowd. You want a lot of guys.”
“I do?”
“Uh-huh. You want to strip, let your hair down, and sit right there as a line forms.”
Laughing, she said, “A line now, Amos? Come on, you’re being―”
Reaching for his zipper again, he said, “I wouldn’t even have to be first. Would you like that better?”
“You’re saying I’d rather—”
“Uh-huh. Exactly. You’d like to strip down, get all sexy, and start with a stranger.”
She laughed again and said, “Start what, exactly?”
He held her chin for a second, then let it go to touch a fingertip to her lips.
“Get that mouth going.”
“On a line of strangers? Because I’m—”
“Nothing but a slut. That’s right. A slut that can pretend to be modest, too, which makes me crazy.”
“Hmm. Like this?”
She leaned into his finger, parting her lips enough to take it in, and she bobbed her head and moaned, letting her wet lips rub all along it several times.
“Oh my God . . .”
“Mm, I don’t even know you, do I? And still . . .”
She moaned and sucked it some more.
“God . . .”
She backed away enough to let it go, then said, “Amos, that’s fun to joke about, but you have to stop. Just stop.”
“You’re a slut, Lenore.”
“Really, stop.”
“You’re nothing but a slut. Oh sure, you act all—”
“Hey!”
She pushed him away with both hands, forcing him a few steps back, then she stood and cinched her belt tighter.
“Stop. Enough, Amos.”
“Look, I know, Lenore, that you’re really nothing but a—”
“You don’t know anything! Get out, Amos.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Go park your ass on the couch. Take your line of horny strangers with you.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m serious. All of you. Out.”
He hung his head, walked toward the door, then turned back to look at her, seated again, wrapped in flannel, and bathed in the gentle light from the lamps. She was pointing toward the door.
With a sigh that was more of a groan, he pulled in the door, exited quietly, and gave it a soft boom to close it.
Lenore listened for his footsteps, but no sounds of any came through the door. She turned enough to almost touch her ear to it and still heard nothing.
Her scoff didn’t make a sound and when she said, smiling, “What would Laura do?” that wasn’t loud enough for Amos to hear either.
She walked to the bed and let her fingers drag along the soft blanket as she kept going farther, to the closet. When she pulled open the bifold door, it was with enough force to make some noise for the insistent man locked outside of the room.
While reaching for a pair with high heels, she said, over her shoulder, “Yes, these high heels are what I need.”
She set them on the bed long enough to wiggle out of her pajama bottoms, which she tossed up onto the dresser before putting on the heels. The robe got dumped and left where it fell.
Her walk was solid and caused the sharp points to strike the hardwood floor on her way back to the door.
Covering a grin with one hand and shaking her head, she rolled her eyes then coughed lightly.
“You like me in these heels?”
She’d said it to the room and when Amos said, “I, uh, I—” she hurried to say, “Not you. You just stay quiet.”
“Uh, okay. You, uh—”
“Shh. Don’t disturb us.”
She nodded at the lack of any further response, then strutted back toward the bed.
“Oh, I sure will strip down for all of you. First, this pajama shirt. It’s just one button after another, all the way down, then—oh, there we go. Now, there’s nothing covering them. Let’s just toss this shirt aside.”
She glanced at the door, smirked quietly, then looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. While gazing at herself, naked except for lacy panties and footwear that she couldn’t see but that had elevated the rest of her, she reached up with both hands.
“Yes, the hair has to come down. I hope it doesn’t get in the way when I’m so busy.”
As she was removing pins and clips and letting it all cascade down her back, her smile dwindled, and she held a breast in each hand.
“There, just like that. I’m ready. Are all of you?”
No longer smiling, she gave the quiet door a quick look, then watched her hands gently squeezing her breasts in the mirror.
“Oh, you do look ready. Mm, so do you. All of you. You want me to sit? Okay.”
She backed herself to the bed and sat, bouncing to rattle it, then looked down as her hands found her thighs instead.
“Mm-hmm. I’m smooth and soft all over. Only these tiny panties covering anything, and—oh, you want those off too? Mm, I’ll sure be naked except for my heels, won’t I?”
She shifted herself around, worked the thin fabric down across her thighs, then down to her ankles, then kicked the garment to one side.
“There we go. Nothing but skin for all of you to use however you want. As long as I’m sitting, at just the right height, who’s first?”
She paused, gave the door a peek, then watched herself in the mirror. She didn’t smile when she held her hair back with both hands and held her mouth open, her lips forming a neat circle.
“Oh, wow, that’s nice. For me? Oh, but you want me to say what I am first?”
The door seemed to be bending into the room, as if some heavy hunger was pressing against it.
Looking at herself in the mirror again, her breasts bare and her thick blond mane held back, she said, “I’m not good for anything but sex.”
She listened, but no noises came from the direction of the door.
“Yes, I’m a respected business owner, all very proper. And I’m engaged to be the wife of a university professor someday. And still, look at what I’m doing.”
Almost laughing, she exaggerated some gagging sounds.
“Hey, I’m not done! You’ll get your turn. I have to say first that I’m all those things, but more than anything, what I love being more than anything, for all of you, is a complete slut.”
She gagged more, then added, “Mm, yeah, like that. That’s all I’m good for. All I want to be is a slut.”
While making more soft gagging noises toward the door, she tipped herself back onto the bed, then let go of her hair.
And both hands found someplace else that responded immediately to her urgent attention.
Chapter 2 – Even Wilder, Huh?
The gentle rapping on the bedroom door got Lenore to stir, but she stayed under the blankets long enough for a lazy, cozy stretch. A glance at the clock beside her brought out a groan, and she sat, fluffed her hair back, then rubbed her face a few times.
“Coming,” she said toward the door.
She stood and caught sight in the mirror of her complete nakedness.
“Oh. Hmm. That was, uh, something. What could have been.”
She scooped up her robe on her march toward the door, used it to cover everything that she could, then pulled her hair all back behind her, hiding it as much as possible.
The nearly useless locking mechanism got a quick click, then she turned the knob. Amos, awake and appearing nearly ready to rush off to the university, stared in at her.
“My clothes,” he said.
“Oh, of course,” she said, then took a few steps back.
She scoffed at him pausing to watch her steps.
“You’re looking for high heels, Amos? Come on, I don’t sleep like that.”
He didn’t attempt a smile as he held her gaze and reached around for his shirt and pants hanging on the door’s hook.
“You do everything else with them, though?”
“Last night? Come on, that was just for fun. You deserved that.”
“Huh. I deserve some of what they all got.”
“They, who? Listen to yourself.”
“You know what I mean,” he said, his clothes folded over an arm as he scanned around the room, lingering on a pair of shoes, panties, pajamas . . . all scattered across the floor.
“I know you think you can call me whatever you want whenever you want.”
“You didn’t mind telling them, then you—”
“Amos, stop it. There was no ‘them.’”
“But if there was, you’d tell them, so why not tell me whenever I need to hear it?”
“When you ‘need’ to hear it?”
He looked down and mumbled, “Like you can’t imagine.”
“Well, just keep using your imagination. I need to get ready for work.”
“Yeah, it’s late. I have to rush out. Come on, be a good sport. Before I go, just say—”
Her face locked into a snarl as she stared at him.
“Stop it, Amos. I’ll say it when I want. You know what else? I’ll be it when I want. You want to hear more about that?”
“You, uh, you—”
“That’s right. Yeah. Hey, Amos, I’ll be a total slut when I want to be.”
“Fine by me. Maybe later, we can—”
Still frowning, shaking her head, too, she said, “No, I mean whenever. That doesn’t mean you have to be anywhere around.”
“But you mean—”
“How about that, huh? You want to push me? You think about this: your fiancé can decide to be a total slut, and I mean a ‘total’ slut, anytime she wants, and you don’t even have to know about it.”
“I know,” he said, pointing and snarling too. “Just like when you . . .”
“When I what? Go on, finish, Amos. When I what?”
He wiped his face clean and grimaced at the floor.
“Um, like when you were, uh, pretending. Last night. That’s all I meant.”
“Yeah, like that. Good, we understand each other. God, you can be so goddamn pushy sometimes. You deserve to hear me say that I’ll be a slut anytime I want. Go. You’re going to be late.”
He was trembling slightly as he took quick glances around the room, lingering on her high heels, then her panties, then—
“Just go!” she said and shoved him into the hallway before slamming the door.
“God,” she said, then looked toward her nightstand when her silenced phone vibrated with a soft rattle.
“Laura, good morning.”
“Hey, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“No, Amos did that. I just shooed him back out of the room and off to work.”
“Back out of the room? Uh-oh. Don’t tell me.”
“I’d rather not. It’s just that he must have overheard me that day I was alone in the bedroom, fantasizing. Saying things out loud.”
Laura laughed for a few seconds, then said, “Oh, that’s funny. He heard you saying you love being a slut more than anything?”
“Uh-huh. Oh yeah. And it’s making him crazy. It started last Sunday morning, and he was weird about me being modest and supposedly a slut at the same time.”
“Yeah, I could see how that would be a turn-on for the old prude.”
“It sure is. Now, he keeps calling me a slut, trying to get me to be a slut whenever he snaps his fingers. He’s really pissing me off.”
“And you’re not a slut whenever he says. Not a slut on command?”
“No way. Last night, I actually told him I could be a slut whenever I wanted, and he wouldn’t even know about it.”
“Good for you. The nerve that man has.”
“Yeah, I could tell you more. Later, maybe. So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing special—just wanted to get your Monday off to a good start.”
“Sounds good. How, exactly?”
“Who else am I going to tell, Lenore? And you like hearing the details, don’t you?”
“Oh, you mean that Frat Chat last week? I suppose. Yeah, tell me more. How was it?”
“Mm, you should have taken the offer and gone instead of me. We look almost identical, and no one would have known the difference.”
“Someone would have known. You mean, there was no one there that’s seen you there before? No one would know we’d switched?”
Lenore had lined herself up for a view in the dresser mirror, and she tipped her head at the sight of the large mounds her breasts were making under the tight robe.
“Hey, we don’t even use names there. This one guy, though, a talkative character, told me his name was Emilio, so that’s one that―”
“Wait. Did you say Emilio?”
“Yeah, I think that’s what he said. Lenore, think of all the non-stop sex I was having. I’m pretty sure that’s his name.”
“That’s not a common name.”
“I don’t suppose so. Anyway, not the point. Not his name anyway. How he was acting, though? God, Lenore, that was a trip.”
“How so?”
“I said he was talkative, right? He made some kind of fun drama out of the whole thing. Even when he had his camera out, he was—”
“He took photos of you, Laura?”
“Oh, he sure did. He said it was some kind of requirement, to prove that it was all consensual, which it was, of course. Lenore, I was on the bed, on my hands and knees, and my cheerleader skirt was way up out of the way, and—hey, you really want to hear all this?”
Lenore was loosening her belt, then let the long, thick robe open on its own. She got her free hand up to a breast before answering.
“Yeah, I mean, uh-huh. Details, Laura.”
“Alright, so, I’d already done two of the guys, and Emilio, he was standing on the bed, and I was looking up at him.”
“Wait. You were blindfolded, right? Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Oh, I was. Yeah. Then, he’s talking, and I can’t because, well, you can just imagine, and he peels back my blindfold and points the camera down at me.”
“You let them take your photo?”
“Well, hmm. Right then, I didn’t care. Oh, that must be some wild photos, me looking up at him, my mouth full. Can you imagine?”
Lenore gave her breast a final squeeze then caressed her way lower, along her belly, then lower still.
“Mm-hmm. Yeah, I can.”
“Are you okay? You sound kind of funny.”
Lenore laughed and said, “No, I’m fine. What else?”
“Well, this guy liked to talk, especially when he shot a video. He―”
“Laura! You didn’t have your blindfold hiding you at all, and you let him take a video of you?”
“Yeah, damn, I sure did. And shit, Lenore, the things I was saying. Kind of like the stuff you told me you were saying that time, remember?”
“I, uh, yeah. I remember. About being something just for sex?”
“Yeah, exactly. Lenore, it felt good to say it for the video. It was a weird kind of excitement. And don’t forget how, um, busy my mouth was too.”
“That’s in the video too?”
“Oh God, yeah. And when I could talk, those few times, all I said was how I was nothing but a slut.”
“Oh my God. Laura, you’re incredible.”
“That’s an interesting word for it. You sound kind of jealous.”
“What? Um, I was just—”
“You should have switched with me, Lenore. Try to imagine that: you’re just about naked, your shirt is off and your breasts are just hanging there. You’re on your hands and knees and servicing him, which is what he called it.”
Lenore gasped softly as one hand held the phone and the other had found just the right place, the right touch, the right rhythm.
“Mm-hmm, I can imagine.”
“So, Lenore, I’m telling the video how I want everyone to know what a total slut I really am, that it’s all I’m good for, stuff like that.”
“You meant all that?”
“Not at first. When it started, I was just playing along. But then, it just felt good to say all that. Like you when you were fantasizing. Didn’t that feel good? Just to dare to say out loud that you’re nothing but a slut?”
“Uh, yeah, it did. So, that guy filmed all of it?”
“No, just some. Then, some other guy that I didn’t see took me from behind. Oh, I was sure ready for it by then. And Emilio, he was enjoying how I was ‘servicing’ him, and he liked my big eyes looking up at him.”
“I’d bet he would.”
“We’re almost twins, Lenore. That could have been you.”
“We do look alike. I would have had to say all that, too, Laura? Let them take a video of my face?”
“Just think about how all of that would have felt, Lenore. To just say the hell with it—who cares what anyone thinks.”
Lenore picked up her pace, then lay back on the bed with her knees up.
“I, uh, am thinking about it. Yeah, maybe I should have switched with you.”
“Seriously? You would?”
“Right now, at this moment,”—she paused for a few focused rubs—“I would definitely say yes. Yes, I’d be that total slut.”
“Uh-huh. In a video too? You’d say all that for the camera? I mean, when you could actually talk.”
Lenore laughed choppily, kept her hand busy, and said, “Hmm. Tell the camera that I’m nothing but a slut. Hey, any more Frat Chats scheduled?”
“No, they actually put those on hold for some reason. Someday. Oh, there’s something else coming up, though. Something even wilder. Lenore, my gorgeous almost-twin girl, you have to switch with me for this one.”
Still giving herself gentle touches, Lenore moaned softly and said, “Hmm, even wilder, huh? I don’t know, Laura.”
“Let me see if I can get some details for you, you sexy slut.”
“I’m a sexy slut?”
“Mm-hmm. Lenore, I know you. You’re a lot of things, all good things, but maybe what you love the most is . . . what?”
The timing couldn’t have worked out better with Lenore’s busy hand, and she said, fighting to not sound so breathless, “Being a slut. A total, total slut.”
Laura laughed just once, then said, “You’re not just saying that?”
After a pause, Lenore said, “Damn that Amos. No, I’m not just saying that. Laura, I want to be such a bad girl.”
“How bad?”
“Mm. A total slut.”
“That’s my girl. Oh, I have to go.”
Lenore looked at the clock and said, “Oh my God. Me too! Bye!”
“Emilio.”
His phone had barely rung where it lay on the picnic table while he devoured a breakfast sandwich.
“Hey, it’s Laura. I know it’s early.”
“Yeah, and I have class in a few minutes. But I always have time for you, you sexy thing. Love those big eyes.”
“You’re still thinking about that Frat Chat? I did give a good performance, didn’t I?”
“The best. I’ll admit, I got carried away, babbling like a fool with you all naked and sexy as hell.”
“Well, thanks. I kind of just played along with all that you were saying. Even the photos and the video. Shit, I didn’t expect that.”
“Hell, I didn’t even plan that. I never know what I’m going to do next.”
“Right, Emilio, except for class.”
“Which is about a minute away. Shit, I’m already late. What’s going on?”
“After the Frat Chat, you got me to volunteer for something else, some other kind of party.”
“Yeah, and it isn’t a Frat Chat. Hey, let’s call it that, though. That could be like our secret code.”
“The Frat Chat 2?”
“Good enough, yeah. What about it? You’re not backing out, are you? Because these people, Laura, they don’t—”
“No! I’m not, uh, exactly backing out. I’m just thinking about what I’ve heard of Michael and Eva—mostly Eva. I mean, Michael is probably”—
“Shit, just get to the point, will you? I just choked down the last of a crappy muffin sandwich, and I’m already late.”
“Sure. I want out of the deal, but—”
“What? No, forget that—it’s this Friday. It’s too late for you to bail.”
“Oh, Friday? That soon. Look, I want to send a replacement, someone who—”
“Whoa, wait a second. You’re hot, and I already know that. That’s what these folks need. They’re damn particular. You can’t just throw anybody their way and assume they won’t get pissed.”
“No, listen a second. This woman could be my twin. I mean, like, an identical twin.”
“Same hair? Figure? All of it?”
“Yeah, all of that. Same big eyes. And she’s sexy as hell too.”
“That whole bit you had going at the Frat Chat, with the sexy talking, is something these folks would love. This substitute can handle that?”
“I know for a fact that she’s been practicing.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, just by herself, you know, fantasizing. She’s been telling me about all the wild, sexy stuff she likes saying.”
“If she’s only practicing, she’s just an amateur.”
“Uh, yeah, she’s probably more on the innocent side. It might be kind of pushing her limits to do all that.”
“Actually, that might be even more fun. You know me—I like the drama, and pushing someone innocent into all kinds of stuff could be a blast.”
“I don’t think any of you would have to do much pushing.”
“Hey, work with her. See if you can get her more receptive to doing outlandish things. Just get her started, and everyone at the party will push her the rest of the way.”
“What kind of outlandish things?”
“Oh, shit, I don’t know. Does she like talking dirty? Maybe start there—make sure she’s willing to say things that someone ‘on the innocent side’ wouldn’t usually say.”
“Alright. I can do that. So, we’re good, then, for the switch?”
“I’ll tell you what: let’s do it, and if it doesn’t work out, it’s your ass on the line. Remember those photos and that video I have of you?”
Laura blew out a deep, agonized breath, then said, “Yeah, I remember. Nice, Emilio. Go straight to the blackmail, huh?”
He looked at his watch, then said, “It wasn’t straight to it. We’ve been talking a few minutes. Look, think of what that video will do for your life. Ever hear of an obscure little thing called the Internet?”
“Dammit. Once or twice, yeah.”
“Good. So, I have you under control, but I don’t know about this other one, your replacement. Tell you what: you tell her that someone named Drake is going to contact her. I’ll grab a burner phone and give this a go.”
“Okay. That’ll work.”
“What’s my name?”
“Drake.”
“And I’m going to act like her name is Laura. That’s the game, right? She’s Laura?”
“Yeah. She’ll have to be Laura.”
“It’s going to be a wild time, actual Laura. You should reconsider.”
“Hey, I know enough about these folks to have a bad feeling about the whole deal.”
“Oh, stop it. They’re just, I don’t know, theater people or something. They like to play games and crave drama even more than I do.”
“Shit, is that even possible?”
“You got me there. Probably not. But they’re probably harmless. Your new Laura will have the sexual adventures of her life.”
“Okay, good. Then, you’ll destroy those photos and that video?”
“Now, you’re just being stupid. Think it through, actual Laura. Once you get leverage, you never, ever give it up.”
Chapter 3 – You Can’t Stop
Amos stood behind his lectern at the lowest point in one of the university’s spacious lecture halls. Ascending rows curved around him with a wide aisle running up the middle toward a closed set of wide double doors.
After a glance up toward the left, at a specific seat in the back row that was still empty, he scoffed and looked around the room more. Up close, off to the right, a waving hand caught his attention.
Nodding to the attractive young woman, he mouthed the words, “Hi, Lindsey,” which wouldn’t have been heard unless he had shouted to overcome the chatter and laughter and an occasional yell.
Looking down again at the books and notes that he’d brought for the class, he scoffed and wiped at the wrinkled sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt that he’d hastily tossed on when rushing out of the house. His efforts didn’t smooth out any of it, so he reached behind him to where he’d left his dark tweed jacket, then put that on, covering to some extent the clothing that he’d worn the last time he’d taught that class.
He gave that empty seat another quick look, then scanned around the room while saying, “Class. Class, let’s get things moving. I have an important announcement to point us in a productive direction.”
It took a few seconds to reel in some of the more sleepy eyes and faces showing their lack of interest.
“And that news is that we are not, like happens so often in this intro psychology class, leading off with a staggering detour into indecipherable, incomprehensible philosophical debates about—”
One of the double doors at the back of the room, behind all of the seats, swung open and banged into the wall, and Emilio took a few quick steps inside.
“About hot and cold!” he called out, causing the majority of students to snicker, laugh, and offer a few choice expletives.
“Emilio,” said Amos. “Your timing is impeccable—not adequate for the class start time but quite appropriate for a perfectly timed interruption to the beginning of my monologue.”
“Ah,” he said while shuffling past other students toward the empty seat, “your monologue. Yeah. About that.”
Amos gave Lindsey a look and grinned at her smirk and shoulders locked in a shrug.
Focusing again on Emilio, Amos said, “Hot or cold. Again, we’re going to—”
“No. Oh, no, no, no, professor, sir. Hot and cold. A small detail, but a very important one.”
“Right. Hot and cold at the same time.”
While pointing at Emilio, jabbing a pen toward him and looking around the room, Amos said to the class, “I’m actually onboard with his hot and cold philosophy. Don’t ask me for details, though.”
He heard Emilio snort out a loud laugh, gave him a quick look, then continued.
“The principle has to do with divinity. To experience hot and cold, as an example—and there are many other pairs such as that—is to bring one’s self closer to divinity, whatever that—wait, are we still not allowed to speak of divinity at this university?”
He earned some laughter, and a few of them expressed their skepticism.
“Very well. We won’t use that word again. But it’s an interesting bit of philosophy, and I’m glad I’ve learned to embrace it. Although, I must admit, it’s not without hazards.”
He snapped his head to look toward the back when Emilio called out, orating for the entire room, “That’s because you’re getting pulled into the next phase of all that. It’s leading you deeper with a tight grip on your—”
“Careful,” said Amos, “or you’ll be lining yourself up for your fourth freshman year.”
After Emilio had snickered with many of the others, he said, “Hey, I was going to say your nose. What were you thinking?”
Amos looked around for a second and saw that a lot of students were waiting for his answer.
He coughed once, then said, “Uh, my wallet? A tight grip on my wallet. What else?”
“Oh, okay,” Emilio said, laughing a few times. “Yeah. Because of buying a hot tub, then planting it up on a frozen mountain. Stuff like that. Yeah, your wallet.”
“So, philosopher Emilio in a psych class, you have once again claimed our attention for your own selfish aims. What is this next phase you’ve alluded to?”
“It’s easy: you get a blast of div—well, that ‘D’ word that we can’t mention—by feeling hot and cold at the same time. I could explain that, but we don’t have that kind of time. I only have this lecture hall for so long.”
Amos laughed along with the rest of them.
“Class,” said Emilio. “Enough. Alright, the next phase is that you want more. You think that if that level of hot and cold was good, hotter and colder would be even better. You get greedy.”
“And what,” said Amos, “is the likely conclusion from that kind of greed?”
“You either freeze your ass off,”—he paused to look around, then smirked at having the highest level of their attention so far—“or it burns your ass to the ground.”
The silence dragged on for a few seconds, then Amos said, “And what then, Mr. Philosopher? After my—I mean, after someone’s ass is burned to the ground.”
“Then,” he said, pausing for the drama, “you can’t stop—you want to burn even more.”
Amos rapped his pen on the lectern to silence the snickering.
“And you know this, how?”
Emilio shrugged and said, “Shit, I just make this up as I go.”
“Shirley, never mind about what I’m wearing—I just like to dig into the closet sometimes. Did you finish up that report last Friday?”
Lenore stood beside her desk after just arriving at the office. She hadn’t yet had a chance to sit, and Shirley, loitering in the open doorway, had a view of a skirt shorter than usual, heels higher than usual, and a blouse that had one more button ignored than usual.
“Hey, I’m just complimenting. Looks good. Uh, almost done with the report. Maybe I’ll just, uh, get back to that.”
“Thank you. We’ll need that this afternoon. Oh, close the door, too, will you?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
The light slamming of the door covered only the first few tones of the ringing of Lenore’s phone, and she slipped it up out of her purse while sitting, grinning at the caller ID.
“Laura, I just got to the office.”
“Too busy? I can call back if—”
“No, don’t be silly. I mostly just boss people around here.”
“And you should, Lenore—you are the boss. But I have to tell you, that’s not what they want at the Frat Chat 2.”
“The what? They’re having another one at that fraternity house?”
“No, it’s that other party I told you about. We just figured we’d call it that. Hey, we have to call it something. It’s this Friday night.”
“The Frat Chat 2. Sure, why not? So, go on, what are you talking about—about not being a boss?”
“It’s just that, from what I’ve heard, you won’t be there just for sex. I mean, yeah, you’ll have more sex than you can imagine, but they—”
“Hmm. My imagination’s getting better all the time.”
“Maybe not for the Frat Chat 2 stuff, though. The thing is, they do this kind of ritual stuff, I think, and you’ll be the offering.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Yeah, but like I said, it isn’t just sex. They, uh, want to make it, um . . .”
“Oh, come on, Laura, you’re not shy. Just say it.”
“Alright. They want it to be degrading. They plan on a lot of sex, but they want their offering, uh, not treated like a princess.”
“That, uh, sounds kind of ominous, Laura. Are you talking about some kind of abusive thing?”
“I think it’s more like, well, like the offering is just a slave. Something they can do whatever they want with. Maybe humiliate her? Make her do stuff? I’m not sure.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure either.”
“Okay, listen: it’s all for fun. They’ll want you for all kinds of sex, but they want to spice it up, that’s all.”
“By abusing me?”
“That’s probably not the right word. You know, Lenore, people pay for that kind of experience. You might find that it’s the best sex you ever had.”
Lenore crossed a leg, watched how that had forced her skirt up enough to show a lot of her thigh, then nudged it up a little higher. She was rubbing her thigh as she answered.
“Well, I don’t even know what you mean. What kind of experience?”
“Oh, maybe just like them telling you what to do.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Maybe forcing you.”
“Forcing me how?”
“I don’t know, Lenore. I’m kind of curious myself. It’s just that you wouldn’t be bossing anyone around. No, you’ll be the one bossed around. You wanted to feel like just an object, remember?”
“Well, I did, yeah.”
“That’s the deal. You’re just an object to be used. You said you wanted to be used for wild sex, right?”
“Uh, sure, but I’m not sure about this, the way you’re describing it.”
“Okay, listen. They’ll want you dressed up really nice. Now, imagine they make you strip down to just your high heels, then make you crawl from chair to chair, giving each of them a treat.”
“Hmm, a treat. I could do that. That might not be so bad.”
“How about if they’re laughing at you, too, and calling you a slut?”
Lenore laughed and said, “Well, I would be. Uh-huh.”
“How about a worthless slut?”
“Uh, that’s one kind of fantasy, I suppose. Sure. What else?”
“I’m just making things up, but imagine they force you to wear a collar, and someone’s leading you around on a leash too.”
“Oh my gosh. You’re serious?”
“You’d be just an object for whatever they want, remember? Ooh, you might have to kneel, and someone will tie your wrists behind you. Then, each of them—”
“They’d tie me up too? Laura, this is way more than a Frat Chat!”
“You should have taken my place at that, Lenore. Admit it.”
“I, um, yeah, I probably should have. Things are spiraling down with Amos.”
“The saint. You already don’t really have a choice. You’re doing the Frat Chat 2, Lenore.”
Lenore laughed and said, “You’re already bossing me around?”
“Uh-huh. And notice how you didn’t get mad about it.”
“I didn’t. No.”
“I think it’s what you need, Lenore. You didn’t do the Frat Chat and now, you’re starving even more for sex. Any kind of sex.”
“Any kind?”
“Mm-hmm. You’re going to be degraded and abused and treated like nothing but a sex object. That’s exactly what you need.”
Lenore took several slow breaths, kept rubbing her bare thighs, and listened but didn’t speak.
“Yeah,” Laura finally said. “You’re doing it—taking my place. You’re going to do everything they force you to do.”
Lenore breathed and studied her thighs as she crossed the other leg.
“You’re going to be degraded, Lenore, and do you know why?”
Softly, almost breathlessly, Lenore said, “Why?”
“Because you’re not just a total slut. What you want to experience most is being a worthless slut. Just something soft and sexy and there to be abused and degraded for their pleasure.”
“Oh my gosh. Laura, I . . .”
More than a few seconds passed, then Laura said, “Uh-huh. Oh, they’re going to love you. And you, Lenore, my nearly identical twin girl, are going to do absolutely everything they order you to do.”