Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What’s Your Fantasy?

Author: Pepperstasia Beaverhausen
Rating: Oh, you know it’s NC-17, B. With all that realness. For sex and substances, playas.
Categories: MRR, established relationship, Micki POV
Spoilers: Follow up to Glory Box, so obvi the eps around that story (Season 2, Eps 4, 5, 6) but also Wax Magic & Read My Lips, and since it’s a Micki POV, you know I’m gonna bring up Lloyd. Gross, I know, but that D-bag is integral.
Summary: Following a long weekend away from each other, Micki and Ryan act on a few latent, recently disclosed fantasies. Of that cray-cray sexual nature, natch.
Author’s Notes and the Disclaimer: So yeah, Micki, Ryan, and Jack aren’t mine; they belong to Williams, Mancuso, Jr., Paramount, all that ish, mayne. Anyhoover, I totally don’t get paid for this. And that’s all good in the hood, because I am still thoroughly enjoying myself. That’s worth more to me than the ends, anyway. So, I totes was not ready to give up the Glory Box universe just yet, and was jamming an OG Ludacris tune when that inspiration hit me and I started getting smutty ideas. So I fully blame Ludacris and all of his awesome for this one, my peoples. Alright, it’s time to sit back, brush that pimp dirt off your shoulders, and plunge in to this smut like you know y’ant to. As the mighty Rick James via Dave Chappelle said: “Enjoy yourselves.”

“I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from your head to your toes
And I wanna move from the bed
Down to the, down to the, to the floor,
And I wanna (ah-ah) you make it so good I don’t wanna leave
But I gotta, kn-kn-kn-know
Wha-what’s Your Fanta-tasy?” ~Ludacris featuring Shawnna “What’s Your Fantasy”

“We just got started and now you’re leaving me?” Ryan whines behind me as I lean over my dressing table to obtain needed effects for my trip to pack in my makeup bag.

I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. He’s so fucking adorable, especially when he pouts, “Ryan, the *very* last thing that I want to do now is leave you, but how was I to predict that we would figure out we were in love around the time of Quiara’s birthday? The Carleton-Foster sleepover weekend is a long-standing tradition. Evie and I have spent every birthday with Quiara since I was nine years old. Plus, I think Evie needs the support. She didn’t say outright, but it sounds like she’s having problems with Ben. They’re my sisters. I can’t say no.”

His arms circle my waist and he buries his face in the side of my neck, “Mm, but I got us tickets to the carnival this weekend. What am I gonna do about that now?”

He’s cutely distracting me from my task right now, but I can’t get mad at him. I have plenty of time before I have to be at the airport; I’m just trying to get a head start so I don’t forget anything. Quiara Carleton has always been an unpredictable character, to say the very least, so it’s best to be as prepared as possible, “Why don’t you just go anyway? You could ask your friend Sally. Or if push came to shove, you could even get Jack to go with you.”

Ryan has started kissing across my shoulders, firing up tingles all over, “But I wanted to make out with you on the Ferris wheel. Are you sure you can’t stay?”

“You make a very convincing case, but I can’t back out of tradition, Ryan. It wouldn’t be fair to Quiara. Or Evelyn, for that matter. Since she had J.B., the only way she’s really been able to have *her* time is when we have the Quiara birthday weekend.”

God, I wish I could get out of this. It’s only been five days since Ryan and I admitted that we love each other and became official. Five immensely blissful, dizzying days. I don’t think I’ve ever been wrapped up in another person like I am with him. We’ve kept it subdued around Jack; we’re not really hiding what we are now, but keep the affection to ourselves. We save what we *really* want to do for our alone time. Needless to say, we’ve been keeping some pretty late nights.

But I feel like we have some lost time to make up for. I’ve loved him for a while now, and then was driven crazy for a couple of confusing weeks when we began our sexual journey together on the night of my resurrection. A total lack of communication was our plague in those days, and unfortunately, we had to involve others in our dance. Ryan’s was an innocent victim of a cursed violin, and mine was a hideous murderer disguised as a movie star who tried to strangle me. He also had a cursed make-up case. Apparently, Ryan and I have become magnets for cursed objects now, we don’t even have to actively track them down anymore. The night Jack and Ryan brought me home from Evergreen Lake and those cabins with Amery, I was just lower than dirt. I felt like the man that I was in love with didn’t want me, and to add insult to injury, my rebound guy turned out to be a murderous psychopath. I couldn’t win. There was no hope for a happy love life in my future. So I broke down and told Ryan that I love him. And to my utter shock, he told me that he loves me right back. It’s been just amazing ever since that revelation.

Then my sister Evelyn called me last night to remind me about birthday sleepover weekend at Quiara’s in L.A. Quiara Carleton first met the Foster sisters at Camp South Winds, a summer camp for privileged girls, way back when little Michelle 8, Evelyn 11, and Quiara 9, promised to be sisters together for life and maintained an enduring friendship in spite of the different stages of our lives. Evie and I are the only substitutes for siblings that Quiara knows. She’s an only child, an heiress to a Hotel chain fortune that spent a lonely childhood with nannies and jet setting parents that were never around. This weekend is the only constant that she knows. I couldn’t take it away from her.

No matter how much I really want to.

Ryan’s hand snakes up to fondle my right breast under the pink satin of my nightie, “I understand you can’t shuck tradition. But I’m going to go through withdrawals, just so you know.” He says lowly in my ear, teasing it with his lips.

Fully distracted now, my hands reach behind me to run down the front of his hips and thighs over his boxers, “Like I won’t?” I counter with a small laugh, leaning my back into his chest as he starts kissing my neck again.

I feel his hands leave my body temporarily, but glance up and notice him pushing off his boxers in the mirror, then feel him gripping my hips and shoving himself inside. Ahh, goddamn that feels incredible. There’s just nothing else in the universe as good as the feeling of him. I grip the edge of my dressing table and arch back into him, getting incredibly turned on by the sight of him fucking me in the mirror. He’s so *feral* when we have sex. It’s been quite the thrilling surprise.

And yes, I absolutely quit wearing underwear now that Ryan and I are together. He has this delicious habit of destroying them, you see, so I figured it’s better not to be wasteful. It’s also convenient for instances like this. He’s pushing into me in a rough, moderate pace, but now he’s moving his lips from my neck and raising up to full standing in order to pick up his pace. It doesn’t take much of that before I’m coming, those warm, electric waves making me shudder as I grind my hips into his behind me. My sight leaves me and I feel his pace accelerate as he groans, “You are so fucking gorgeous when you come. Fuck.”

I don’t even get my vision back before another blinding orgasm hits me due to that. Sweet merciful Jesus. This is going to be the longest four days of my life, having to be away from him, from this. He has such an intense effect on me bodily that it’s rather drugging. Especially since he has started slamming harder and drives me into another immediate orgasm. I’m just quivering onto him, tightening my grip and pushing back with the last bit of consciousness that I’m retaining right now in this pleasure fog I’m hovering in. It still just blows my mind how phenomenal he is at this. And he was living under my nose for over a year before I really got to find out.

Thank God I got to find out.

This kind of blinding pleasure is absolutely worth dying and being resurrected for. I love him so much I literally can’t see straight. Being away from him is going to be excruciating. Well, it’s going to be rough, at the very least. Je-sus, his stamina just constantly amazes me. I come about a million times before he finally does, clamping his lips together to subdue his growl as he gives a few hard shoves, shaking and swelling inside of me. I’ve also been quelling my moans by pressing my mouth closed and moving the noise to the back of my throat. It’s earlier in the morning still, but we do live with Jack. And we respect him enough not to be blatant about this. About us. Ryan kisses his way up my back as I shiver against him, sliding his hands from my hips to my stomach under my nightgown as he slips out of me. His lips reach my neck and he bites gently before soothing the area with a kiss, “I’m going to miss you so fucking much.” He breathes into my skin.

I spin around and attack him with a kiss. My fucking lord, I love the way he kisses me. It completely dizzies me. My knees go weak and the whole nine. Another unexpected surprise about him, that I was just ecstatic to discover. I’ve got one hand on his cheek and the other is gripping the hair on the back of his head as our tongues dance together urgently. “I’m going to miss *you*. Terribly.”

His arms wrap around me tightly in a hug and he supplies me with another short but passionate kiss, “Then don’t go.”

I laugh a little at his persistence, “You know I can’t do that. If I go back on my word, what kind of person am I? I wouldn’t even know myself anymore. I wish I could just take you with me, but boys are not allowed in Quiara’s birthday weekend. Plus, one of us needs to keep an eye on the store.”

He sighs, resigned. “I know. You’re a good person, one of the many reasons why I love you, and we’ve got a responsibility here that’s bigger than we are. Hmmm, allow me to ruminate on being surrounded by three beautiful rich girls for four days, though. Sounds amazing.”

Men. I laugh loudly and pinch his ass, “Allowed. It’s the least I can do since I’m forced to leave. However, Quiara would eat you alive. So would Evie, for that matter.”

“You don’t think I could handle myself?” He teases me, pinching my ass with a dimpled grin spreading across his face.

I jump a little, “You might. Just letting you know that my sisters are a bit on the wild side. I’m dreadfully tame by comparison.”

“Tame is never the word I would use to describe you. So, you’re the lone good girl, then, out of you three musketeers?” He’s kissing me again and I have to hang on to his shoulders because the weakness has commenced in my knees.

I manage to nod in response, “Always have been. Quiara and Evie love to give me a hard time about it; but it’s my natural inclination. Evelyn was always the wild child out of the Foster girls when we were growing up. Quiara started as my friend at first, but she and Evie bonded over their shared proclivity for breaking the rules. They’ve dragged me kicking and screaming into a plethora of shenanigans.” I explain between kisses, though how I’m even able to do that I’ll never know. He’s just so addictive.

“You’ll have to tell me about these shenanigans someday. I’m already aroused; full disclosure. But I need to give you a proper goodbye. That just now can’t be it.” As he’s saying this, he grips me by my thighs and hoists me up, carrying me back to the bed.

Amazing. His bounce back ability also has me stunned. He’s just all-around *so fucking good* at this. I’m deliriously happy. How am I going to survive four whole days without him? This is going to be torture.

Chapter Text

I’ve always been a rule follower. At least, if the rules seem fair and egalitarian. I appreciate order and structure. I take after my father in that regard. In fact, I mirror Daddy in a lot of ways, inheriting his coloring in hair and eye shades while Evelyn favors our mother with her honey blonde hair and rebellious nature. Pre-Curious Goods and the Lewis inheritance, I had resigned myself to my fate of becoming the trophy wife of an ambitious lawyer, fitting the role to a tee, much to the happiness of my own very high-powered lawyer father. He’s a controlling partner for the most prestigious law firm in Los Angeles. Daddy had actually arranged the match between myself and Lloyd, who had interned for the firm just out of Harvard and impressed my father to no end with his upward mobility. As far as Daddy was concerned, he was the perfect future son-in-law. An absolute dream come true. Especially after Evelyn had disappointed him so greatly, getting pregnant with J.B. at 17 and eloping with Benjamin, the son of our pool man who was a few years her senior and an aspiring screenwriter in his own right. Evie was actually disowned temporarily, until Ben won over our parents by defying Hollywood odds and becoming an overnight success.

Now she’s back in their good graces and I am the current black sheep. But what else was I to do? Fate had dealt me a hand in which I have a real purpose, a chance to do serious good in the world. To actually contribute, not just be an ornament. Besides, it’s Ryan’s and my fault that a bulk of Uncle Lewis’ cursed objects are out there terrorizing and murdering in the first place. We would be horrible people if we didn’t do our best to try to make it right. And we’re not horrible people. We’re saving lives, here.

As far as Lloyd is concerned, I’m better off without him. He was such a condescending jerk, for one, which would have been thrilling in the bedroom if he wasn’t such a boring, selfish lover. The same two positions, every time. And he *never* went down, but always expected head. Due to my multi-orgasmic persuasion, I still at least got off, but comparatively, Ryan and Lloyd don’t even exist in the same sexual species of man. Ryan is Babe Ruth, whereas Lloyd was second-string little league. I don’t regret my choice in dumping him for a single second. Especially now.

But I can’t help but feel twinges of hurt knowing that my father is disappointed in my decision to live life as a mere shopkeeper. And it’s not like I can tell him about the cursed objects. He’d never believe me. No one would. So obviously, I’ve been keeping my real-life goal a secret from my family and friends.

I know if Evie was in my position, she wouldn’t give a flying fuck what our father thought. Evelyn Foster was born giving a middle finger to the world. She was consistently crazy when we were kids, forever pulling pranks and getting into trouble with her gang of boys in our neighborhood. By 12, she was dressing scandalously and sneaking out of the house almost every night. She dabbled in her share of drugs and alcohol as a teen, but was always pretty clandestine about it and surprisingly never got caught in the act. By the time she fell in love with Ben and had J.B., she had done her share of living and was ready to ‘mellow out’, in her own words. For the most part, she seems happy. And J.B. is a great kid. Personally, I think she lucked out. With how outlandish she was, it’s amazing that she didn’t end up in jail.

Quiara, on the other hand, has remained her eternal exotically insane self. She’s the premiere party girl in Los Angeles, a permanent fixture on the red carpet and at various big name fashion shows. She refuses to be nailed down and has a different man on her arm every night. Quiara has always been a gorgeous girl, perfectly aerobicized with long straight light brown hair and amber eyes that she inherited from her model turned socialite mother.

The Carletons, no matter how neglectful they were as parents, have kept Quiara very comfortable. She has a formidable house in the Hills that’s completely hers and paid for, and her parents keep a stable of servants in their employ on her behalf, so she literally has no worries other than being the toast of L.A. and high society.

Such different worlds we live in now. But through it all, sisters we remain. It will be good to see them both again. I’ve been consistently hunting objects for the past year, so the last time I saw them was shortly after I began my quest with Ryan and Jack on Quiara’s last birthday weekend. Lloyd and I were still together then, but we were hanging on by the barest of threads. Evie and Quiara both agreed that they weren’t Lloyd’s biggest fans. Quiara’s nickname for him was Emperor Jerkwad, if I recall correctly. And Evie and Lloyd were always butting heads if they were in the same room together. Both gave me their sincerest congratulations when they learned that we had broken up. It made me feel a little better about letting go of that aspect of my life, receiving their support in my decision to live and work at Curious Goods. My parents may not approve, but at least my sisters do.

I’m still smiling like an idiot when I disembark the plane at LAX from Ryan’s extensive goodbye before I had to pack and leave. I miss him to death already. He’s just such a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom. And an artist of the highest degree in the act of cunnilingus. I’ve never been more satisfied in my life when it comes to that. His inherent genius in that area has made me the luckiest girl in existence.

“Micki-Michelle!” I hear Evelyn holler at the gate.

“Evie-Evelyn!” I yell back, hefting my carry-on at my side. I think I packed well enough. I see Evie and Quiara through a throng of people and make my way over, “Birthday girl!” I greet Quiara, engaging in our air kiss on each cheek ritual of hello.

“Hey dollface, you’re looking especially gorg. What’s going on with you?” Quiara examines me.

Evie swarms at my side, “Yeah, you’re all glowy, sister dear.” Her eyes narrow and she nudges Quiara, “What is that look saying to you, Kiki?”

Quiara’s jaw drops and she smiles at me with a slow spreading grin, “You’ve been getting laid, Michelle. And a lot, too, you little slut.”

I blush about a thousand shades of red and look at my feet. They never fail to read me like a large print book.

“We’ll get the details in the limo, Kiki. Airports give me hives; let’s get her bags and get the hell out of here.” Evie cuts in, putting an arm around both of our shoulders and leading us to the baggage carousel.

Soon enough we’re in the back of Quiara’s limousine and she’s pouring Bollinger into long stemmed champagne glasses with a practiced flourish, passing one each to myself and Evie before sipping on her own. She raises her glass in the air, “To my weekend with my soul sissies! Let the wholesome, light debauchery commence, post haste.”

“Hell yeah.” Evie chimes, “Cheers, darling.”

I raise my glass and chuckle in the affirmative as Quiara and Evie shoot me expectant looks. Quiara rolls her eyes as I continue to smile like an idiot and say nothing, “Oh my god, Micki, are we going to have to drag it out of you? What’s the dish? Who are you doing the horizontal lambada with, sister dear? You have to tell me, it’s my birthday celebration, after all.” She lights a cigarette and gives me a smirk. She knows she made her point.

“Ryan.” I admit, “It’s very recent, we just started seeing each other officially under a week ago.”

Evelyn barks out a laugh and downs her Bolli, “Taking advantage of that dick on tap, finally. I’m such a proud big sister right now.”

Evelyn has taken great joy in teasing me about Ryan and I’s living situation ever since the one and only time she visited the store, about two weeks after we had first moved in. She referred to Ryan as ‘that teddy bear cute dick on tap’ and continued to rachet up her taunts after Lloyd and I split. I never outright took her seriously, obviously, though in hindsight, maybe I should have. Because he’s just a goddamn blessing, in every conceivable way.

“Back up; your cousin, Ryan?” Quiara questions me.

“He’s *barely* our cousin, Kiki.” Evie comes to my defense, “Not a drop of blood relation. It hardly counts.”

“Sounds kinky. Good for you, Micki. From the look of that glow, you’re obviously enjoying yourself. And if you’re happy, I’m totally happy.”

“I am. He’s just…oh my GOD, you guys.” I beam, “I’m so fucking in love already. I’ve been in such a haze.”

“Ooh, the L word already? Baby sister, this sounds serious. But I’ve met the man and have to say that he is one of the few good ones. Unlike Ben, that fucking rat bastard. I’d kill him, but I’m not made for prison. No champagne.” Evie obtains the bottle of Bollinger and fills her glass to the brim, downing it in three seconds and repeating again as Quiara produces a second bottle to replace the one Evie just killed.

“Evie, what’s Ben got into now?” I ask her as I finish my own glass and hold it out to Quiara’s offering of a refill.

“Oh, at least a different starlet every week. He thinks he’s being effectively sneaky, but I’m three steps ahead of him. I hired a P.I. to tail that son of a bitch. I have pictures and everything.” Evelyn makes a motion for Quiara’s cigarette and takes a drag off of it before passing it back to the birthday girl.

“That asshole. God, I’m so sorry, Evie.” Wow. Poor Evelyn. Sitting on concrete proof that her husband has been cheating on her. How fucking terrible. She’s got to be just crushed.

“Dirty fucking dog.” Quiara comments, “Take him for everything he’s worth, sister. Lucky for you that your Daddy is skilled in the legal department. With the proof you have, you can’t lose.”

They clink glasses in silent agreement as the limo halts to a stop.

Chapter Text

Even though Quiara has more than enough room in her ample estate, we still do everything the same like we were kids, dumping our things in Quiara’s suite and dubbing it as base camp. Her den is already laid out with pillows and sleeping bags, along with a plethora of every kind of junk food you could think of. Some things have been altered over the years. Starting from our mid-teens, we began by kicking things off donning our swimsuits and lounging in the hot tub by the pool. By my senior year of high school, marijuana entered the picture and that’s been the confirmed ritual ever since. Along with frozen mixed rum drinks, of course. Woof. It’s been a while. This is all de rigueur for Quiara. She loves these birthday weekends in particular because it’s like a break from her typical partying lifestyle. But I’m not used to this anymore. Cursed object hunting requires all of your faculties, and I don’t indulge at all on my own, so it’s been since the last time Quiara’s birthday rolled around. I learned a long time ago to just lean in to these weekends, though, otherwise Evie and Quiara will tease me incessantly about being a goody-two-shoes wet blanket. So while I’m getting lightheaded and dizzy in the warm rushing water, my two sisters are taking to the substance use like ducks to water. Evie reaches behind her to the catered spread of finger foods and giant container of slushy red rum, pours herself more into her tumbler and snags a cucumber round, popping it into her mouth before topping off mine and Quiara’s glasses.

“Ugh, I’m an ancient ass bitch, now, my sissies.” Quiara moans, “Nothing to look forward to now but death.”

Been there. Done that. Don’t recommend it. I don’t say this to them, though.

“Well, if you’re ancient, Kiki, then I’m older than dirt.” Evie counters, selecting a shrimp puff and popping it in her mouth, “God, I feel like it too. Fuck you, Benjamin, making me into your comfortable old shoe. I’m worth more than that, dammit.”

“Yes, you are.” I agree, clinking glasses with her.

“Fucking A right, you are. Ben can take a flying fuck.” Quiara chimes.

“Oh, I’m going to make him pay. I want him to feel actual pain. This betrayal is just jarring me. I’ve never felt this low before, and I fucking hate it.” Evie continues, her features darkening as she downs a little more of her drink, “But enough about my depressing b.s., what about you, Kiki? Any new fish on the line?”

“Always, my sister. My current favorite is Gianni, the son of an Italian shipping magnate. He’s a dark, swarthy Adonis with a hurricane tongue. He actually gets two dates a week, it’s that serious.”

“Jesus, he broke your streak.” I laugh, “That’s practically unheard of.”

“I’m taming in my age.” Quiara smiles, stretching, “So tell me about Ryan, Micki. He’s got to be good with that glow.”

“I have to admit that I’m also crazy curious as to how it all came about, Baby sissy.” Evie says, popping a cracker topped with brie in my mouth with an interested grin.

I hold up a finger, chewing and swallowing as fast as I can. I can’t tell them the details about how I died and was brought back, but I can share enough that they’ll not give me shit for holding out on them. “I had a nightmare and he came into my room to comfort me. Then one thing led to another and…oh my, did it ever. He’s a superman in bed. And a goddamn pussy magician. The first time he went down, I was seeing Birth of Man. He’s incredible.” I can’t help but gush to Quiara and Evie’s delighted laughter.

“Yes!” Quiara laughs, “Now *this* is good dish. Pussy magician, huh?”

“The Merlin of head.” I sigh, smiling a little giddily. God fucking damn, I miss him. And it hasn’t even been a whole day yet, either.

“But he’s so cute and innocent looking.” Evie smirks, almost disbelievingly, “I figured he’d be all sweet and gentle.”

“Ryan is all of the very good things.” I beam, “I wish I could clone him to show you exactly what I mean, but I don’t have access to that. And I’m allowing myself to be selfish with him.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re finally finding happiness, firmly planted in the middle class now that you are.” Evie tells me, accepting the joint that Quiara just lit and passed to her, “I’d rather have the middle class and a pussy magician than Ben’s stupid cheating barely legal chasing ass. Any day of the week.”

Already? God, it feels like we just finished the last joint. I can’t say anything out loud, though. I’d never hear the end of it.

We eventually exit the hot tub after a good long soak and chat, showering off in the pool house before moving the party back into the main estate. Stoned and drunk, we change into our slumber party attire; satin pajama short sets that Quiara provides for each weekend. “I get a kick out of the triplet vibe.” She had told me and Evie a long time ago when this aspect of the tradition started. Just lean in to it, Micki. I have to admit that I’m having fun. I missed my sisters. No matter what the style of p.j.s over the years, it’s always been color coded. I’m green, Quiara’s blue, and Evie’s pink. Always. Another part of the tradition. We’ve moved into the den to lounge on our sleeping bags and watch rented movies on the VCR. We’re centered around a giant bowl of popcorn with refreshed tumblers full of frozen rummy goodness.

I’ve got one hell of a buzz right now.

“Do you guys want to sort of but not really watch The Accidental Tourist? Or we could get super adolescent and go with Pretty in Pink.” Quiara suggests.

“I’m easy.” Evie comments, lounging and sipping her drink.

“It’ll be written on your tombstone.” I kid her. She smacks me in the knee in response, “Let’s go whole hog, Quiara. Pretty in Pink, for sure.”

“Liking the way you think, Micki my sweet. The middle class is having a positive effect on you, dumpling. So much better than last year when you were all mopey about Lloyd’s dumb ass.” Quiara tells me as she selects through the rented VHS tapes and pops Pretty in Pink into the VCR. Her entertainment center is enormous, but everything about Quiara is larger than life, so it’s to be expected. She switches on her big screen TV as her Major Domo Andre walks into the room. Andre’s been with Quiara since college; a fabulous gay man that has a casual relationship with his employer and never fails to tell her like it is. She adores him. “What’s up, Babycakes?” she asks Andre, who stands with a hand on his hip, observing us with an amused expression.

“There’s a Ryan Dallion on the phone for Miss Micki Thang. Speaking of, Bitch, aren’t you all glowy?” Andre compliments and informs me.

“Pussy magician!” Quiara and Evie exclaim in gleeful laughter.

“Ooh, new boyfriend?” Andre teases, “Get it, girl.”

I manage to get up without falling down, “Thanks Andre. I’ll take it in the alcove.” I make my way across the large den to the private telephone enclosure on the other side, closing off the teasing kissy noises and jibes from my tipsy sisters. Woo, Jesus, I’m high. And incredibly buzzed from the rum. I pick up the receiver, “You rang?” I say as low as I can, giggling.

“Just making sure you got there okay.” Ryan’s voice sends little bubbles of excitement through me, “Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I am. I really wish you were here. I’m already missing you to death, but the girl time is nice.” I admit.

“I’m happy to hear you’re having fun. The Goods Lair is incredibly lonely without you, though. And I’m already jonesing and it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.” He informs me.

“Aww, how will you ever survive?” I giggle into the phone.

“I’ll just have to cope with my fantasies like I did before we got together. It’ll be just like old times.” Ryan gives a resigned sigh.

I am very amused right now, “You fantasized about me, Ryan?” I chuckle.

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs, “Yes, Micki, I have. Almost daily. I am a guy, after all. And you are very imagination inspiring.”

Jee-ez. That just aroused me to no end. It’s killing me that we’re so far apart right now, “Do you have a favorite? Fantasy, I mean.” I clarify, rubbing my thighs together.

“Tough question. There’s so many, but, oh yeah. Yeah, this is definitely *one* of my favorites. Do you remember when you first told me about Quiara?”

“Way back then?” I laugh, feeling sparks all over at the intimate quality to his voice.

“Way back then.” He confirms, “You said that you had met at camp, but also went to a private catholic school together in Junior High.”

“I remember.”

“Do you recall what I was doing at the time?” He asks me.

“You were on your cot. I think you had your headphones on.”

“Good memory. While you were telling me this, Billy Idol started playing Rebel Yell in my ears and the next thing I knew, I was seeing you in front of me in pigtails and a catholic school girl uniform doing an incredibly hot striptease.”

“Pigtails?” I snort.

“Hey, don’t laugh. There’s something exceptionally sexy about a grown woman in pigtails. What about you? Any naughty daydreams you want to share?”

“Well, *you* are always inspiring when you wear your glasses.” I tell him, “I don’t have anything as vivid as yours in my arsenal, most likely, but I did get a flash of you dominating me in your specs the first time I saw you in them.”

“Dominating you?” His voice is lower and wraps around me like silk. Fuck. I’m so turned on right now.

“Mm-hmm. I like it when you tell me what to do.” I purr, taking another sip of my half melted slushy rum concoction. “I’m not talking extreme, like excess pain and full S&M, but it makes me really hot when you take charge.”

“God-fucking-damn, it’s just slaying me that you’re not here right now. I would kill to taste you.”

I moan in agreement, “Hmmm, your head between my thighs sounds like the ultimate in perfection. I hate that you’re so far away. Especially with me here all loaded and horny. You could take the most wonderful advantage if you were here with me.”

“Too bad boys aren’t allowed.” He teases me, “Because the things I would do to you are numerous, extensive, and unfortunately I am unable to vocalize exactly what I’m talking about at the moment.”

“Jack just walk into the room?” I giggle.

“Bingo. You’re good, Lady Foster.” I can hear him smile on the other end of the line.

“I’ll be more than good when I get home.” I say seductively.

He laughs, “I’m counting the minutes. So guess what I just found out?”

“Why do I have to guess? Why not just tell me?” I rib him.

“Jack’s making a trip to Mexico. Something about tracking down Nazi memorabilia. He’s leaving shortly after you come home.” Ryan discloses with a giddy tone.

“We’ll be all by our lonesome?” I exude happily, already getting excited by what this means.

“Yes ma’am. You’re going to be in so much trouble.” Fuck me. He’s got me practically scaling the walls right now.

“Are we talking about combined fantasy fulfillment, here?” I release another purr and take a sip of my drink.

“I’m definitely game if you are.” He responds in that sexy, intimate voice again.

“I’m counting the minutes.” I repeat his statement from earlier huskily. My Jesus, I wish I could just pole-vault onto him right now and fuck him blind. The anticipation is thrilling me, admittedly. “You’re making my skin tingle, just so you know, Mr. Dallion.”

“You *always* do that to me, Micki.” Ryan croons, then gets distracted by something Jack is saying in the background, “Yeah, I’ll be right there. God, I hate to cut this short, but Jack is summoning me.”

“Understood. Go do your duty, Ryan. Tell Jack I said hi.”

“I miss you, woman. Here’s to when we get to lay eyes on each other again.”

“I miss you too, and love you to death. I can’t wait to come home.” I whine.

“Goodbye, beautiful. Love you.”

“Bye Ryan.”

I’m already bereft at the loss of his voice when the line disconnects. And my whole body is just humming. Mmm, alone time and fantasy fulfillment. I can’t fucking wait.

Just one little problem…I’m not entirely sure I could really do a good striptease. It’s not like I’ve been exposed to the act beyond glimpses in the occasional movie. I want to make it good, but am not entirely sure how I should move.

I’m still pondering my issue with an aroused smirk when I exit the phone alcove and rejoin Evie and Quiara in the den. They’ve shut off Pretty in Pink and are now reciting the opening to Janet Jackson’s What Have You Done for Me, Lately, currently blasting from her stereo.

“…he does a lot of nice things for me.” (Evie)

“I know he *used* to do nice stuff for you, but what has he done for you late-ly?” (Quiara)

They burst into giggles as the song starts, beginning their dance as they notice me and halting their movements temporarily, “Damn girl. He hasn’t even touched you and you’re like a fucking glow worm.” Quiara laughs as her and Evie start moving again.

“That must have been some conversation, Micki. Your cheeks are red.” Evie teases me.

“So are you going to spill or are we going to have to tickle fight it out of you?” Quiara pokes me.

Andre emerges from the adjoining room, “I heard everything, Dirty Miss. The boy sounds cute. I’m jealous.”

“Thank you, Dre! You’re forever my savior. Better than trying to haul it out of Pollyanna here.” Quiara praises Andre as I turn crimson.

I should have known Andre would eavesdrop. He’s notorious for that sort of thing. Shit.

“What I heard didn’t sound very Pollyanna. We’re talking fantasy here, girlies. He alluded to a pigtailed, schoolgirl striptease to Rebel Yell while our little Disney princess here wants to be dominated by her new wonder boy.” Andre reveals coolly.

“Andre!” I squeal, dropping to the floor and burying my face in a pillow while Evie and Quiara just howl.

He continues, “And apparently, their roomie Jack is going to take a powder for a bit to Ol’ Mexico, so they’re going to have the alone time needed for, what was it, Ariel? Fantasy fulfillment, that’s the term, isn’t it, sweets?”

I moan, “Andre, you’re just the worst.”

He smirks down at me, “Scratch that and reverse it, Princess. You know I’m the best.”

“I second that.” Evie laughs.

“Thirded.” Quiara chimes, “What’s the big D, anyway, sister? Sounds like an easy enough fantasy to fulfill. A little striptease? I could do that standing on my head. You’re lucky it wasn’t something crazy off-the-wall, anyway, because I’ve seen some shit, girlfriend.”

“Easy for you. Not for me.” I breathe out.

“What do you mean? You know how to dance, Micki.” Evie rolls her eyes at me.

“Not like that.” I say, looking around in my embarrassment. If I could sink into the floor, I would.

“Stripping’s a breeze.” Andre tells me, “You just move like you’re fucking. Slowly.”

“But where am I going to get a schoolgirl uniform?” I ask, “I got rid of mine long ago.”

“Easy enough to remedy. I still have mine. It’s yours.” Quiara soothes me, “And it still fits me too, so it’ll definitely fit you.”

“Why do you still have your old uniform?” I laugh.

“It’s come in handy over the years. Your boy toy isn’t the only man with that fantasy, you know.” Quiara pulls me to my feet, “Let’s see how you move. I’ll even dial up the Billy Idol.”

Evie’s already selected it from the wall of cassettes and pops it into the tape deck on the stereo. “On top of it, Kiki.”

The song starts and Quiara nods with a goofy grin, “Nice choice, Ryan. Get moving, Micki.”

She, Andre, and Evie look at me keenly and I couldn’t feel more on the spot right now. “I’d feel better if you guys danced with me. Maybe show me how it’s done.”

They all begin rolling their bodies with the beat, but a touch slower, “Ask and ye shall receive, Princess.” Andre smiles, undulating his torso.

I attempt to copy their movements, but I still feel like I’m under a magnifying glass being studied right now. I suppose that’s probably what stripping feels like normally. “How’s this?”

“Put your hips into it more, use your knees, and go *slower*” Quiara instructs me.

“Watch me, sissy.” Evie gets my attention, her shoulders moving her entire body in a rolling sway as she bends her knees and dips low to the ground, then slowly continues the same movement on the way back up, her hands sliding teasingly up her sides.

“Get. It. Princess.” Andre compliments Evie, “Take notes from your older sister, Ariel.”

Quiara raises her arms over her head, rolling her torso as her hands come down to caress between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach, then framing her hips as they do a slow circle, using her knees to dip low like Evie just did.

“Get it, Kiki. Work!” Andre cheers.

I try to mimic what they’re doing, but I still feel really self-conscious.

“Dirty Miss, watch me.” Andre instructs, bending over facing away from me and running both hands on his right leg on the way back up as he looks at me over his shoulder, then does a sexy hip roll when he’s back to standing. “An infant could do that one. A starter move for you, my love.”

“Like this?” I repeat Andre’s movements with success and he cheers me.

“Yes, baby, yes!” Andre fives me, “Your sexy voiced wonder boy is going to be thrilled.”

The song ends and Quiara clears her throat, “Time to get dressed, bitches. We’re taking a field trip. And Dre, you’re totally coming with.”

“Always at your service, Queenie. I’ll ready the horses.” Andre replies, breezing out the door.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.” Quiara smirks.

Chapter Text

An hour and a half later, we’re all parked at a table in our party dresses (well, Andre in a silk shirt and crisply ironed slacks) at Peelers, a full nudity burlesque club that apparently is very exclusive.

So of course, Quiara got us all right in and at the best table, “You need to see how this is *really* done, little dove.” She tells me, sipping on her Sex on the Beach, “And this place is perf for what you’re going for.”

Well, she’s not wrong. All of the strippers are fully costumed to start off with, running the gamut of different characters. Currently, there’s a blonde nurse onstage undulating to Prince’s Kiss and ever so slowly removing pieces of her costume, tossing them flirtatiously at her drooling audience. I sip on my own drink and observe her carefully, taking mental notes on the fashion in which she’s removing her clothing.

“Oh my god. Are you three seeing Tom Selleck’s clone over there?” Evie breaks me out of my study session, pointing to a good-looking guy two tables over with dark hair and a thick mustache.

“Ooh, he’s a hunka-hunka burnin’ man.” Andre acknowledges, “But don’t you have a ring, Miss Evie?”

“Fuck that no-good cheating son of a bitch.” Evelyn practically spits out as she slams her drink, “This one looks like he works with his hands. I’m going to go over and say hi.”

My head spins with how fast she leaves for her target.

“And we’ve lost one.” Quiara chuckles.

“I’m sorry Quiara.” I can’t help but apologize for Evie’s abandonment.

“I’m not. Let her get her revenge fuck if she needs it. The woman is in serious pain right now. She’s trying to keep it cool, but I can see it. Ben cut her deep. I hold no ill will if she needs to ditch us for the night. She’ll be back.” Quiara casually explains.

“You’re such an understanding friend, Pet.” Andre tells her.

“I know. Ooh, Dre, champagne room? What’s our best bet here?”

“Champagne room is certainly best for a tutorial,” Andre agrees, scanning the club, “But I’m not seeing any schoolgirls milling about at the moment.”

It’s like they’re talking in code, “Champagne room?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

“I’m getting you a private dance. So you can see up close how a pro does it.” Quiara laughs at my innocence, “How are you your age and not know what the champagne room is?”

“Maybe because this is my first time in a strip club.” I say defensively.

“Oh, baby doll. You are so adorable.” Quiara pinches my cheek.

“The definitive Disney princess.” Andre laughs, “Too cute for words.”

A waitress in a tight white button-down shirt and black miniskirt approaches the table, “Good to see you again, Miss Carleton.” She greets Quiara.

“Hey Lil. I want to start off with your most expensive bottle of champagne for my sister Micki, here.” Quiara tells her, “Ooh, any schoolgirls tonight?”

“Pru’s about to go on in fifteen, I think.” Lil responds.

“Have her meet us in the champagne room and I’ll make it worth both your whiles.”

“Right away, Miss Carleton. I’ll tap you when we’re ready to lead you back.”

Such a fuss for a little private striptease. I wonder how Ryan’s preparing for our little fantasy foray? I wasn’t very specific, but I get a sharp twinge in my center thinking about in what ways he’ll dominate me. I figured I’d leave it up to him. And from what I know about him regarding intimate matters, I won’t be disappointed. Granted, he could breathe on me right now and I would come aggressively. I wish he was here. The idea of being in a strip club with Ryan makes me tingle in my toes.

I just want to make this good for him.

The nurse has left the stage, replaced by a stripper dressed as Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, dancing to Spooky by Dusty Springfield.

I’m watching her intently as Lil approaches our table, “Everything’s ready for you. Follow me, please.”

Andre, Quiara, and myself are led to a door at the end of a hallway in the back of the main club, guarded by a giant of a man with a stern look on his face. He IDs all of us and accepts Quiara’s Gold card wordlessly before clearing his throat, “Hands off the dancer. No touching or you get the boot, understood?”

“You don’t have to tell us, Vince. This obvs is not my first rodeo.” Quiara rolls her eyes.

“Yes I do. It’s business, kid. But I know you. You’ll behave. So get in there and enjoy yourselves.”

Andre gives Vince a smirking salute as he opens the door and ushers us into the champagne room, a square space painted top to bottom in black with plush red furniture scattered through the large but intimate space. There’s a lone straight backed hardwood chair in the center of the room, which we sidestep as we make our way to the plush red couch and glass coffee table. We land on the couch as a door opens from the far left end of the room and a pigtailed, raven haired stripper in a red tartan schoolgirl uniform emerges with a bucket holding a champagne bottle and three long stemmed glasses on a tray already filled with sparkling liquid. She sashays effortlessly over to us, in spite of her hands being rather full.

“What do we have here?” She purrs seductively, setting the champagne bucket on the coffee table and handing us each a glass from the tray, surveying us carefully.

“So here’s the scene, gorgeous,” Quiara starts, “My sissy here is going to rock a striptease for her new boy toy, but the innocent little dear needs to see how it’s really done. That’s where you come in. Pru, right? I’m Quiara, this is my sister Micki, and my everything Andre.”

“Sounds adorable.” Pru smiles, looking me up and down, “So *she’s* the lap dance?” she asks.

“Your target is in your sights, girlie.” Andre confirms, sipping his champagne, “Cristal?”

Pru gives a slight nod, “Any requests?”

“Do you have Rebel Yell?” Quiara asks.

“Hell yes, I do. The clients usually *love* that one.” Pru tells us, making her way to a wall panel and revealing a hidden stereo system and container of tapes. She pops in the tape and the song begins to blare as she immediately starts rolling her body. Pru makes her way to me, taking me by the hand as she dances around me temptingly and leads me to the straight-backed chair in the center of the room. She gets me seated and dances in front of me, rolling her hips in slow circles as she slinks slowly out of the red tartan jacket of her uniform. “You’ve never done this before, Angel?” She questions as she leans in to me and rolls her torso, not touching but hovering dangerously close.

“No.” I manage to say as she begins to work on the buttons of her vest at a snail’s pace, undulating and taking her time. “I’m doing this for my boyfriend, but to do that, I need to know what I’m doing in the first place.” I tell her, feeling red creep into my cheeks.

“How refreshing you are.” She purrs at me, slipping her arms out of her vest and running the fabric teasingly across my lap, “So much better than the average skeeve, let me tell you. The first thing to keep in mind is to allow yourself to feel sexy. Don’t be afraid to touch on yourself.” Her hands tease down her shoulders and torso over her short sleeved white blouse. “Always remove your clothes at the slowest pace possible; take pleasure in taking your sweet time about it. The tease is *everything*” Pru hovers over my lap in a straddle and works carefully at the buttons on her blouse. She’s grinding her hips in the air above mine, slowly back and forth as her top opens and slips tantalizingly off her shoulders, falling in a puddle onto my shoes. “Move like you’re fucking him, but don’t let him touch you.” She backs away from me with a flirty body roll, her hands caressing her lower back and moving to the button on the back of her pleated red skirt, bending her knees to dip low to the ground as her fingers release the button and slowly work the zipper down, the skirt slipping off her hips and revealing white cotton panties as she slinks her way back up and does another torso roll that radiates into her hips, shooting me a grin that’s pure seduction, “Feel like Sesame Street there, beautiful? You smelling what I’m stepping in?”

I nod, “This is all very informative.”

I hear snickering behind me and turn to see Andre and Quiara indulging in the bottle of Cristal and snuggling comfortably together on the couch, “She’s killing it for you, Princess.” Andre laughs, “I hope you’re taking good notes.”

“Word ‘em up, Dre darling.” Quiara giggles as she empties her glass in one swallow, “I love you, sissy!” she yells at me.

“Red, pay attention.” Pru says sharply, forcing me to turn my focus back to her instructions.

I really hope Ryan likes what I’ve been learning, because I sure am. Pru looks so very powerful. I’m sort of looking forward to that feeling myself. Jesus Christ, I can’t wait to get home.

Chapter Text

The rest of Quiara’s birthday weekend goes by faster than I expected, filled with plenty of activity. Evie showed up mid-morning after spending the night with her Tom Selleck look-alike and didn’t ditch us for the remainder of our time together, which consisted of a spa day, an afternoon at the beach, and a party at Ione Skye’s house, along with consistent coaching on my strip-tease from my sisters and Andre. I realized that I seriously needed this reprieve, not worrying about evil objects that I’m personally responsible for storing in a protected vault and indulging in girl time. It’s nonexistent normally, being the only estrogen at Curious Goods.

Quiara sent me packing with her plaid navy-blue uniform from St. Benedict’s in a neat box, a pair of white knee-high socks, and high heeled Mary Jane’s that she ordered Andre go out and buy the night before I had to leave.

I’m making my way through the airport gate, my skin on fire and butterflies crashing in my stomach as I adjust my carry-on’s strap on my shoulder and scan for a familiar face. I see him sans Jack and smile widely, happy that we don’t have to subdue our reunion, rushing toward him through the slow walking crowd of strangers. His eyes meet mine and his face spreads into a dimpled smile as he quickly meets me halfway and swallows me in a melting kiss. Holy shit, he feels good. He makes me dizzier than the effect of any of the substances Quiara exposed me to over the past four days. And that’s saying something.

Ryan presses tightly against me and is wonderfully at attention, stabbing into my belly and forcing an embarrassingly large rush of arousal that makes my knees buckle. His arms wrap tighter around my waist to hold me up as I practically fall into him, pressing my palms into his chest as our tongues engage like it’s the end of the world and this is all that we have left. It’s quite a long time before we come up for air. “Welcome home.” Ryan finally greets me, “Obviously, I’ve missed you.”

I give him a short but lingering kiss, “I’ve been aching without you. So good to see your face again.” My fingernails scratch against his chest and I press a little more into his excitement, “Let’s get my bags and go home already.”

We’re able to exit the airport as quickly as we can and make our way home in the Curse Hearse as Ryan fills me in on the events of his weekend and the fact that a cursed handkerchief had popped up in his carnival excursion, bringing waxworks to life and axe murders in its wake before ending up in our vault. I can’t say I’m sorry I missed out, but I did miss *him* like crazy. Another one checked off the list, anyway.

Ryan and I are now back in our little lair above the store, dropping my bags to the floor in my room, “I’m still not seeing Jack.” I acknowledge slyly.

“He’s out gathering research materials for me to work on while he’s away tracking down that Nazi stuff.” Ryan smiles, gripping my shoulders and forcing my back onto the bed. He’s under my skirt with his head between my legs and mouth on me before I can even blink. Oh, how I missed this. “God, I was craving you.” He mutters into me before attacking that area that triggers the longest, most powerful orgasms I’ve ever experienced.

I reiterate: I praise being head-over-heels for the Merlin of going down. He’s just the best exception of man. I come about five times in that typical blinding fashion that he induces when he finally lets up, pulling my skirt back down and kissing his way to my face, “Mm, I missed you.” I say lightly, giving a lazy, satisfied smile.

“We’ll have to save the rest for later.” Ryan tells me, toying my lips with his, “Although all I really want to do is bury myself inside of you and stay until morning. But Jack’ll be back soon enough, so…”

I whimper a little, gripping the back of his head as I kiss him in a way that tells him that I *really* can’t wait until later.

Of course, that’s when we hear Jack coming up the stairs, so we disengage quickly and stand from our positions on the bed before he’s within sight. Jack welcomes me home warmly and we have a pleasant evening catching up and talking about his upcoming trip. He’s on a plane in the morning. I’m surprised at this; I didn’t think he was leaving almost immediately after I got home. My skin crawls with excitement. *Days* of unbridled alone time. And so soon. It’s like a cosmic gift from on high. Jack retires a little earlier than normal, exiting downstairs to finish his packing and get into bed to be at the airport a little after the sun rises tomorrow.

My official homecoming is even more extensive than my goodbye was. He had pretty much attacked me about ten seconds after Jack made his way downstairs, his mouth on mine as he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom, proceeding to toss me onto the mattress and work his magic on my body. It’s got to be a couple of hours later now, and we’re holding each other, nude and absolutely sated. Fucking wow, he’s just…I’m speechless. I’m laying on my back with my head on the pillows as he cuddles on top of me with his head resting on my chest. One of my hands plays with his hair as the other rests on the middle of his back.

“*Damn*. That was worth the four days of separation. With change, even.” I giggle.

“That was just the hors d’oeuvres.” Ryan laughs, kissing the top of my cleavage, “Do you need more time to prepare for the main course?”

A little thrill goes through me, “I’m ready on my end. What about you?”

He lifts his head and smiles curiously at me, “You are?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I confirm, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well, I didn’t have a lot of time over the weekend on account of the handkerchief, but as long as you keep an eye on the store during business hours tomorrow, I should be ready by closing time.”

“Perfect.” I yawn. I came *so* many times tonight that it’s a small miracle that I’m still awake.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. Just say the word and we can back out at any time.” Ryan tells me, his right hand caressing its way up my left side.

“I’m not backing out.” I give him a sleepy sigh, “I’m not afraid of you, Ryan, and I’m excited to experience this together. Full disclosure: The thought of it gets me incredibly aroused. Doesn’t it for you?”

He laughs into the plane of my chest and grinds his instantly present erection into my inner thigh, “Without question. But I’ll let you get some sleep, lovely lady. I’ve got to get up early myself to taxi Jack to the airport. I’m assuming you want to wake up with me to say goodbye?”

“You assume correctly.” I answer through another yawn. He raises up and gives me a lengthy, drugging kiss before resuming his nestle into my breasts. “I love you. Sweet dreams.”

“Oh, they will be.” He chuffs out a sleepy laugh, “Goodnight gorgeous. Love you too.”

Chapter Text

We wake up before dawn, saying our goodbyes to Jack with Ryan taking him to the airport while the sky is still a deep violet. I take a lengthy shower after they leave, making sure to shave my legs with extra care in preparation for our upcoming evening of fantastical delight. Powder fresh and perfumed, I dress like it’s a regular day and am just opening up the storefront when I see a package on our front stoop. It’s overnighted from Quiara. Huh, I didn’t think I had forgotten anything.

I’m opening the box as Ryan returns through the front door, approaching me with an interested expression, “What’s this?” he asks me.

Inside is a bottle of Cristal and a rather generous chunk of birthday cake in its own separate cake box. Her cake this year was rather amazing, a moist, fluffy white cake with light whipped cream frosting, the interior layers mixed with peaches, “Overnighted from Quiara.” I explain, retrieving the folded note inside and reading it to myself.

Your piece de resistance for your striptease, little dove. I just needed to unload the cake, so enjoy. Ooh, and don’t forget the lollipop. Love you sissy! ~Quiara

“Cake and champagne.” I finally say, folding the note and stuffing it into a pocket and away from his eyes.

He opens the cake box and swipes some frosting with his finger, putting it in his mouth and gifting me with a yummy noise, “Holy shit, that’s delicious. So this is how the other half lives.”

“A tiny taste of Quiara’s ostentatiousness.” I tease him, kissing his nose, “I’m going to put these in the fridge. Keep an eye on the store until I get back?”

He pulls me into a deep kiss before releasing me and allowing me to gather the cake box and champagne, “Hurry back. I’ve got a lot to do today.” He smiles mischievously at me as I ascend the staircase.

I get them both in the fridge and return to his side, “Was that quick enough for you?” I poke at the center of his lower back, right above his ass, and his jump is just delicious. He’s so fucking cute.

“You follow instruction well. That’ll come in handy later.” His eyes glint as he regains his composure and arousal sweeps over me, “I’ve got to go out and get some shopping done. Any requests?”

“Ice for the champagne.” I tell him, “The rest is all you.”

He kisses me goodbye and I spend a relatively uneventful morning tending to the few straggling customers with my stomach doing somersaults over what is to come. Ryan returns home by lunch with his arms full of shopping bags and goes upstairs for an extended amount of time until he finally rejoins me in the storefront. About five minutes before we officially close, he grips me firmly by the wrist, leaning in to my ear, “Go to your room and stay there until I knock twice. I’ll take care of locking up.”

I temporarily lose my ability to breathe as everything sets on fire inside of me, “I’ll need about an hour.” I tell him as I head for the stairs.

“And you’ll have it, Micki. Just remember what I said and stay in your room.”

Jesus. Christ. “Could you put the champagne in the ice bucket before you’re ready for me?” I remember, stopping and turning at the top of the stairs.

“Done. Keep going. Don’t make me tell you again.” He says sternly and I feel like I’m developing a lake down below. I don’t know if he *really* knows what that does to me, ordering me around like that, but he’s already doing everything exactly right.

I quickly obey and soon am in my room, slipping into the small navy-blue plaid uniform, which consists of a short-sleeved white button-down blouse, vest with gold buttons, short pleated skirt, and suit jacket. Quiara was right, it fits, but just barely. It would have been modest at fourteen, but now that I’m in my mid-twenties, everything’s short and tight. I suppose that’s what I’m going for. It’s not like I’ll be wearing it for very long, anyway. I complete my look with the white knee-high socks and cherry red patent leather Mary Jane heels, arranging my hair in curly red pigtails high on my head and affixing little red bows on each corkscrew curled pigtail that match my shoes. I touch up my makeup, adding a matte red lipstick and a hint of red blush on my cheeks, before pulling back to observe my handiwork.

I think I did acceptably well. Admittedly, I look pretty sexy. I think Ryan will be happy with this, anyway. I move to the box that held my uniform and reach down for the cherry dum-dum lollipops that Quiara had insisted upon. I unwrap one of them and place the spare on my dressing table, clutching the stem of the dum-dum in my right hand as I pace back and forth in anticipation for his signal. I’m feeling some pretty serious performance anxiety right now, in spite of all my coaching and preparation over the weekend. I try to keep in mind the advice I was given and allow myself to feel as sexy as I look. It’s easy enough when I focus on thinking about how he makes me feel. It seems like forever until I hear two sharp knocks, the cork popping on the Cristal, and the opening strains of Rebel Yell.

Showtime.

I slowly open the left French door, shifting my left hand to grasp my lollipop as I put it in my mouth and raise my right arm to grasp the still-closed right door and emerge into the kitchenette, carefully avoiding the doorknob as I slide my back against the door and down, using my shoulders to engage my body in a slow sway. I leisurely circle my hips on the trip back up, sucking seductively on my lollipop and look over at him, sitting on the edge of his cot. Sa-weet holy all of the things. He’s got the spectacles perched on his nose and he’s in a brown striped dress shirt, black skinny tie, and black belted pants with no shoes. I don’t know why I’m so turned on by his bare feet right now, but I allow it to fuel my movements, rolling my torso as I step away from the door and twist to face him. Jesus. His eyes. He’s got that possessed look that never fails to just puddle me. I engage my hips in a side-to-side sway as I stare at him and use my knees to grind my way slowly to the floor. I store my lollipop in my cheek as both hands work on the buttons of the jacket on the way back up, circling my hips counterclockwise and slipping out of the arms as I pulse my torso in another roll. The jacket slips off behind me as I dance my way to the champagne, bending slightly in a pose as I pour some into a glass out of the two positioned on the table next to the bucket and play with the sucker in my mouth, twisting it playfully in my lips and enjoying the sweet candy taste of it. Glass filled, I rise and slink my way directly in front of him, taking a sip before I hand him the champagne.

That wild, possessed look is very present, but he’s also regarding me with an open-mouthed fascination that gives me a giddy sense of power serving to goad me; my undulating hips twisting me around to put into practice the Andre move, bending over and grasping my ankles, then using both hands to run up my left leg and glance at him over the accompanying shoulder, lollipop firmly planted in my cheek as I rise back to standing and caress my hands over my rolling shoulders and torso. I gyrate around until I am facing him again, my fingers working slowly on the buttons of the vest as I dip low to the ground and twist my way back up, peeling it off and dragging the fabric lightly across his lap. Holy shit, that’s quite the tent he’s pitching. I grab the stem of the sucker that’s been parking in my mouth and grip his shoulder with the other hand as I roll my body slowly into his personal space and insert my cherry dum-dum into his open mouth. He smiles a little at this, but it’s not sweet. It’s predatory and chilling me in the most wonderful way. I move closer and hover over his lap in a straddle, doing a languid, slinking sway as I work my hands slowly down my neck and chest to the buttons of my blouse, flicking them open on my way down. It was too short to tuck in, which I’m grateful for now as it falls open and I run my fingertips up my exposed skin until I reach the fabric of the blouse on my shoulders, bending them and my arms back as it slides off onto his feet.

God, he’s gorgeous. He’s so fucking sexy in those glasses, and his gaze is heating me everywhere; sucker still hanging in his mouth as his left grips his untouched glass of Cristal. My hands travel down my naked back until they land low with my fingers barely touching the top of my skirt as I roll my torso languorously from back to front, my breasts directly in his eyeline.

“Liking what you see?” I breathe out as my motions radiate into a hip circle above that painfully present evidence in his lap.

His right hand reaches up and pulls the dum-dum out of his mouth, “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” He responds in a low, growling affirmative, rolling the lollipop on the outer curve of my left breast. I feel that twinge me in the incredibly wet area between my legs. Damn.

I back away from him in another body roll, “No touching or you get the boot.” I tease him as I bend my knees to twist down to the floor a few feet in front of him and ease myself in a side pose, lifting up my leg to go to work on my shoes.

“No. You’re leaving those on.” Ryan stops me firmly, finally sipping his champagne.

“Whatever you want.” I manage out, a little shaky in my overwhelming arousal, teasing my fingertips up the length of my raised leg instead and pressing my palms on the floor behind me to arch my back in another pose. I then move in a sort of sensual crawl until I’m rising up on my knees and facing him directly, my hands sliding up the sides of my thighs and traveling to the clasp and zipper on the back of my skirt. I work on them on my trip back up to my feet and my skirt drops to the floor as I rise to full standing and gyrate in another counterclockwise circle, framing my hips with my hands. “So what happens after I get naked?” I ask in almost a whisper.

“You suck my dick.” He says in another firm, authoritarian tone that drives me into crazed levels of lust.

Gladly. I give him a flirty, lopsided smile as I retrieve the bottle of Cristal and take a swig directly from it, undulating my way back to him, setting the bottle on the floor next to his bare feet and straddling his lap again. This time I allow myself to settle on his thighs as I circle my hips and loosen his tie, working quickly on the buttons of his shirt until it’s hanging open and moving to the wrists to undo the cuffs and roll up the sleeves on his forearms. I slide off of his lap and focus on the buckle of his belt, unfastening it and making quick work of the button and zipper of his fly, dragging the waistbands of his pants and underwear down and off his legs and setting them to my left as I settle on my knees between his thighs. I grab the Cristal and spill a little on his silky olive-skinned cock, delighting in his hiss before taking a little more champagne into my mouth and descending onto him. Hmm, this is an interesting taste experience, the bubbly, crisp champagne mixing with his delicious masculine essence.

“*Fuck*.” Ryan groans out as the alcohol slides down my throat and I increase my suction, moving slowly at first but picking up speed and intensity as the minutes tick by. I take pleasure in my attentions, the taste of him turning me into something ravenous. I almost come when he does, swallowing every drop of his orgasm as it torrents into my mouth and he lets out a loud moan that sounds almost angry. “Get back on my lap.” Ryan orders me as my mouth rises from his cock.

I quickly submit, my hands clutching his shoulders as I sit back on his naked thighs. The left hand still holding his champagne raises up and spills the liquid over my breasts, his mouth following quickly behind to lap it up and making me shiver with how fucking stimulating his touch is. Ooh, this is too good. The bubbles of the Cristal tingle my skin and cool me, immediately followed by the warmth of his lips and tongue kissing and licking the trails of champagne that drip down my chest. I actually come from this alone, moaning and grinding on his lap as he sucks my left nipple into his mouth. “You are so fucking hot. Jesus.” He deposits the sucker he’s been clutching into his now empty champagne glass, placing it on his nightstand, “Stand up and put your right leg over my shoulder.” He instructs me as I’m coming down from my wave of pleasure. I do so as quickly as I can through my haze, the back of my knee hooking onto his left shoulder and my hands gripping his hair to keep my balance as that wonderful mouth tears into me and works all that pussy magic. His hands are on my ass, kneading it as his tongue does a slow circle on my clitoris, feeling so good that I would collapse if he wasn’t holding me up. Soon he’s nipping and sucking on my favorite spot and forcing a ferocious orgasm out of me in practically no time. Ryan laps up the rivers of arousal on my thighs before focusing on regenerating more, diving back in and coaxing me to come again with that ever-so-talented mouth. I can’t help but feel incredibly spoiled. Not only is he just genius at this, but he also disclosed to me that he’s rather addicted to the way that I taste. It’s pretty heady, the knowledge that he craves me like this. So much so that I’m coming again almost immediately after the last orgasm retreated, going completely blind as I tighten my fingers into his locks and vibrate like I’m being electrocuted. In a way, I sort of am. My moans have escalated now into a loud, high pitched sound that borders on a scream. It’s liberating not having to suppress my reactions to what he does to me.

He’s saying words to me right now, but they’re not registering through my pleasure bubble. Ryan pulls back and unhooks my leg from his shoulder, “I said: lay on your stomach across my lap. Now.”

Fuck. Me. He helps guide me onto his lap, my legs shaky as I lay on my belly with my head facing toward the foot of his cot and my ass slightly raised in the air. I hear the slip of fabric and gasp as he grips my wrists together and ties them with the end of his necktie, leaving a loose black tail that dangles from the center of my bound hands. He turns toward the other end and I feel him lean down, then hear the sound of his belt being pulled out of the loops of his discarded pants. I’m a little terrified, thinking that he’s going to spank me with it, but he surprises me by gripping my ankles and wrapping the belt around them instead, fastening the buckle once satisfactorily tight enough for his liking. My feet are still slightly apart, but secured enough that it would take a lot for the belt to work its way over my shoes. I squirm a little as I feel his hands slowly glide up the back of my legs to my behind, “Are you going to spank me?”

“Mm, I think you want me to.” He says lowly, his fingers tracing light elusive patterns on the flesh of my ass and his resurgent erection stabbing my belly, “Such a sexy bad girl. And this delicious body is all mine tonight. Do you remember the safe word?”

It takes me a second, but it comes back to me, recalling the day of flirtation that ended in a fiery encounter of basement elevator sex in the days when we were still unsure of how the other felt. Seems like a million years ago, even though in actuality it was more like a couple of weeks. “Yes.” I say as I feel his hand come down and lightly smack my right cheek. Fucking A. I turn my head, glancing at him over my right shoulder, his gorgeously bespectacled face grimacing in determination as he raises his hand up higher and comes down on my left cheek. I feel a burning sting as my arousal runs in streams down my thighs. I’m already at Code Red levels of excitement, my naughtiest fantasies being realized without even having to specifically vocalize that this is *exactly* what I wanted. I feel the index finger of his right hand run a trail along the side of my right cheek before his hand comes down hard and sharp, the smacking sound as loud as the sting that resounds on that area. I bite my lip, moaning as my back arches and stomach presses into his cock.

I feel his left hand slide under me and between my legs as he raps on the other cheek with another sharp slap, “Oh yeah, you like this. You’re so fucking wet. Dirty, dirty girl.” His middle finger caresses my clit as he issues a series of softer slaps, alternating where he hits every time. “Did you like making me think about you the way I did? Beating my dick bloody just to deal with having to sleep so close to you? Did you?” His voice is low and growling, spanks increasing in intensity and finger pressing harder into my clitoris. I can’t answer, because I’m coming violently, just overcome by every bit of this. My orgasm is long and blinding and I do scream full out from the intensity of it, my back arching as I squirm on his lap with full body shakes. Oh. My. Fucking. GOD. “I own you tonight, understand?” He’s stopped spanking now that my orgasm has finally receded and says this firmly as he runs a soothing hand over my stinging behind.

“Mmm-hmm.” I manage to nod, now draped boneless over his lap. I feel his left hand slide under me and curl around my waist as he leans down, hoists my body over his shoulder, and rises to standing. “Ryan?”

“I’m hungry.” He says cryptically, travelling to the kitchen table next to the refrigerator and placing my body across the width of it. “Don’t move.” Ryan steps toward my head and raises my bound wrists above me, tying the other dangling end of the tie to the back of the kitchen chair slat behind me. He makes his way in front of me again, lifting my bound legs and bending my knees as he holds me open and licks my arousal from my inner thighs, “Mmm, you just taste like nothing else on Earth. But I feel like a little comparison is in order.” He moves to the fridge and pulls out the cake box, “Let’s start with some cake.” He says, placing the box next to my body and opening it with a sly smile, the light glinting off of his glasses. He’s just the sexiest thing in existence. His hand reaches in the box and pulls out a hunk of cake, placing it along my abdomen and retrieving a mouthful of it, offering it to me, “Open wide.”

I comply and savor the taste of the moist decadent peachy white cake as it hits my tongue, sucking the traces of whipped frosting from his fingers. The cake on my abdomen feels chilly and foreign and I try not to squirm at the sensation. He pulls back and leans down as his head lowers and he begins to eat the cake off of my body. “Mmm, the cake of the rich.” He says after a swallow. His mouth feels warm and erotic on my skin, his tongue bathing me as he licks off the remnants of frosting. He finishes with the cake and raises my legs again to lap up the arousal that’s moving down my inner thighs. “Yep. You still taste better than the cake. But what about a sundae?” Ryan releases my legs and moves back to the fridge, pulling out a couple of containers, a bottle of strawberry syrup, and a pint of French Vanilla ice cream from the freezer. He grabs a spoon from the silverware drawer and opens the ice cream, spooning a little directly onto my left nipple and making me squeal from the freezing temperature. His mouth follows and cleans it off, warming my skin and arousing me to no end with the extremes of sensation. Then he’s raising my legs again, licking directly onto my vagina this time and making me moan, “Certainly better than just plain vanilla.” Ryan comments as my legs go back down again and he opens one of the containers, revealing pre-cut strawberries, sliced into larger thirds. Another spoonful of ice cream lands on my right nipple, he places a strawberry slice on top, and I bite my lip as I try not to squeal again at the jarring cold causing my nipple to ache painfully. He lets it sit a little while longer before his mouth descends and devours his concoction off of me, the strawberry roughly scraping my nipple before his warm mouth consumes it along with the French vanilla melting from the heat of my skin. His tongue feels incredible, licking and sucking everything away before gifting me with a lingering suckle on my nipple, making me writhe and strain in my bondage. I’m already out of my mind and he hasn’t even entered me yet. Jesus.

He moves down between my legs again and licks me from bottom to top, circling his tongue ever-so-lightly around my clitoris before lapping at the flowing liquid on my thighs. “Exquisite. Your flavor still wins the taste test, gorgeous.” He gives me another brief, thrilling kiss down there before raising up again and moving to the other container, revealing slices of kiwi fruit, rough skin still intact on the edges. Shit. A dollop of ice cream lands on my left nipple and he places a slice of kiwi on top, “Where are my manners?” He kids me as I wiggle slightly from the chill and pops a slice of kiwi between my lips, the taste pleasant and sweet as I chew carefully, swallowing as his mouth finally leans down and proceeds to clean up his latest feast. The kiwi practically stings against my nipple before it’s devoured along with the dripping ice cream.

“Fuck.” I breathe out, arching my breast into his teasing mouth. The glasses are a little smudged now, but this just serves to make me hotter. And I’m at DEF-CON 4, as it is.

He takes a little more time at getting everything up, his tongue laving warm, electrifying trails over my cooled skin, then kissing and sucking me at a snail’s pace. My hips circle involuntarily with my need. He could definitely just breathe on me and I would come at this point. He moves down between my legs again and licks me just once, and I’m coming with a fierce blindness as he kisses me furiously in encouragement. My wrists pull at my anchor as I stiffen and shudder against that magical mouth, crying out in a high-pitched wail. Mmm, he really is the greatest thing ever. I never would have come up with this particular scenario on my own, but obviously it has me thrilled to no end. He licks me softly as my climax makes its exit after lingering for longer than average, “Mmm, still just the absolute best.” He finally raises up, dropping my still trembling legs back down, “But now it’s time for the full sundae. I’ll need a bigger area.”

Ryan moves to his mini-dessert buffet and spoons out cold, melting ice cream onto my stomach in three dollops, drops a few pieces of strawberries and kiwi on top, and drizzles the strawberry syrup on the whole affair, stepping back a touch to observe me. I pull at my bonds and moan out, “Ryan.” He’s killing me here. I’m aching for him to just fuck me until I lose the fillings in my teeth.

“Mmm, looks tasty.” He taunts me, still standing a little too far away.

“Well, then eat it and fuck me. Please.” I gasp out, pulling harder at my bonds and arching my back, causing the melting sundae to slide a little down my belly.

When he moves in and his mouth begins eating it off, my eyes roll back in my head as the delicious warmth soothes my frozen skin. The fruit scratches against my flesh as he takes them into his mouth one by one, then picks up some of his sundae with the fingers of his right hand and teases it into my mouth. My tongue rolls around the sweet flavors, teeth chewing the fruit as the cool ice cream mingles and slides down my throat. I lick his fingers clean as he continues to devour my tummy sundae, ice cream and strawberry sauce smearing all over his face and glasses. He finally gets the bulk of it off and his tongue bathes warm, sweeping lengths over my sticky skin, making me mental institution ready in my need, arching urgently into him and whimpering helplessly. He lifts my legs again after a thorough cleaning, licking my left inner thigh and the continuous drizzling stream that generates from me in embarrassing abundance. “Mm-hmm, no contest.” Ryan comments as he slips between my legs, leaning in to kiss me for the first time in this particular fantastic encounter. I meet his mouth hungrily, licking at the strawberry and vanilla traces around his mouth.

His kiss makes me so lightheaded I could pass out. His cock sliding against me jolts me to full awareness, though, and I kiss him as hard as I can in my restraints in response. Yes, please. His hands slide down my sides and he raises up to grab on to my hips, lifting them slightly in the air as he pushes his way inside and alleviates my clawing need in the most gratifying way. Fuckety damn, he’s so delicious, moving into me roughly at about mid-pace, my hips position suspended by his hands hitting a pleasure zone I didn’t even know about. Because of the way he’s gripping me, I’m completely unable to move and am helpless; at his mercy as he fucks me. He is absolutely owning and controlling me right now, and I am loving every single solitary second of it. He moves a little harder and faster and I’m coming immediately, arching and pulling at my restraints, electrified by pleasure and emitting a guttural squeal as I lose my vision. I’m shivering everywhere and wondering if anyone’s ever died from this. I mean, this is one seriously crazy orgasm, here. It takes a little longer for my sight to come back than the usual and I feel him setting my hips down and leaning in to kiss me again before I’m able to see him, messy glasses and cheeks coming into focus as I taste the sweetness of his intoxicating kiss, the open flaps of his dress shirt skimming my body as he slows back down, sliding his hands on my legs behind him, lifting them and folding me in half as he escapes the confines of my bound legs. Holy shit, this feels decadent. I still have zero control over my lower half, but I’m not minding because he’s doing everything exactly right. I’m in excellent hands. He’s moving incredibly slow right now, grinding his hips upward when he’s to the hilt and teasing my lips with the occasional nibble as he continues to grip my bound ankles above my head. The buckle of the belt grazes my bound wrists with every glacial, lengthy thrust. The helpless acceptance of his attentions is driving me quickly toward the edge again. I try to respond the only way I can right now into the kiss, but he’s even controlling that, pulling back from my advances and teasing me before claiming my mouth with full ownership. Mmm, dammit, he’s so fucking hot. Another blinding wave of pleasure tenses me and I let out a loud wail against his lips as my ankles strain into his grasp. I feel him shift them to the left shoulder after he pulls his mouth away from mine and rises back to standing, closing my legs as he goes from zero to sixty and starts slamming into me hard and fast. Jesus. Mary. Could I go permanently blind from this? I would be more concerned if this didn’t feel like absolute heaven.

Nonetheless, it’s a while before I can see again, because I cannot stop coming. Just when one retreats, another is crashing down upon me and keeping me firmly planted in this vibrating state of pure energy, yanking as hard as I can on my tied wrists above me. He allows me to come quite a few times this way; then abruptly pulls out of me, making me cry out from the sudden loss of feeling.

He shushes me and I feel him reach down and position my body onto my right side as my wrists twist accordingly in their bonds. He brings my legs down from his shoulder to curl against his left hip as my sight finally comes back, just in time to witness him entering me in this new side position. Holy fuck, this is *insane*, hitting me at a thrilling angle that’s exhilaratingly novel as he rams into me rough and hard, left hand anchoring my legs on his hip as the other grips my reddened ass, kneading it and providing the occasional light slap that jolts overwhelming firecrackers of pleasure into my clit. Fuck. I’m forever blessed by his bedroom genius. My bottom half is entirely soaked and continues to produce endless streams into his slamming groin, the most recent smack to my behind triggering yet another series of blinding orgasms that almost unbelievingly feel even better than the last. I feel another smack as he increases his pace, which just adds to and prolongs everything I’m experiencing in this euphoric, fucked-stupid state. I couldn’t even tell you my own name right now, that’s what he’s done to me. Fabulous. So of course…

“Say my name.” I hear him pant out his order and almost can’t comply because I’m rendered so stupid it doesn’t come to me right away in my miasma. He gives me another slap and slams into me harder, “I want you to scream it.”

So I do. Loud and long, shuddering with intense pleasure that’s enhanced by his rough efforts and erotic slaps that have no timing, rhyme, or reason, each one a surprise that just underlines how absolutely he’s owning me right now. I mean, I had confidence that he would be wonderful no matter how this went down, but I am *so fucking happy* I wasn’t specific and left my domination in his hands. I love him so fucking much.

He pulls out of me again and I’m practically crying at the loss, still shuddering mid-orgasm and feeling not seeing him raise my legs, shift me onto my back, and move between my bound ankles; leaning back in for another kiss, passionate and hungry as his cock slides against me, back and forth in the slowest, most teasing way possible. He reaches up and I feel him free my wrists as I’m responding as best as I can to that incredible kiss.

I almost don’t know what to do with the freedom of movement in my arms for a moment as his hands slide under me to grip my shoulders and his teasing cock finally shoves back inside, but I manage to will them to the back of his head as I lay into his mouth in a desperate response to his kiss, then moving my tongue to the strawberry and vanilla smears drying on his cheeks, licking and sucking him clean as he drives into me hard and deep. I’m almost weeping with gratitude at the sensation of his body pressing into mine. I can’t get close enough to him. I’m also now able to move my hips slightly in our current position and they’re writhing accordingly into each delicious thrust. He halts my cleaning of his cheeks as his mouth forces its way back onto mine, releasing my shoulders and creeping his hands down my sides. They land on my upper thighs under me as he rises back to standing, bringing me with him in our kiss and off the table as my left arm curls around and grabs his shoulder for support and the right tightens on the back of his head.

The next thing I know, he’s doing an about face, breaking our kiss and commanding, “Hang on to the railing.” I’m reticent to remove my hands from his body, but wouldn’t dare say no. I carefully grab onto the railing behind me one hand at a time. “Hold tight.” Ryan grunts, then just starts jackhammering into me, his grip on my thighs almost painful, but negated by how incredible he feels. I’m coming instantly. My fucking God. Is he ever going to come? He’s showing no signs of stopping or even being remotely close. I will never not be astounded by how long he lasts. *Never* would I have pegged him with this talent before we started this. So while I’m transforming into a human earthquake, he’s practically cool as a cucumber, slamming forcefully into me as if there’s no end in sight. And I’m not saying that this isn’t affecting him. He feels even harder and bigger than normal, and I’ve never had a complaint in that area, so that’s saying a lot.

Blind, shuddering, and lost in a sea of continual orgasm, it’s not really much of a surprise to me that my grasp on the railing starts to weaken. “I can’t hang on much longer.” I manage to gasp out after the last wail induced by the latest wave of pleasure.

“Can you put your arms around my neck?” Ryan asks me as he slows down, breaking character with his concern.

I’m able to do so, one arm at a time as his mouth meets mine again and he twists us slightly, sinking slowly down and easing me carefully onto the floor, one hand on my back as the other forearm supports my bottom under me. Once he has me on the ground, his body covers mine and his hands grip my face as he continues to kiss me hard and thrust into me. Fuuuck. My hands move down and grip the open panels of the top of his shirt, my hips meeting his in grinding circles and my bound ankles resting on his back while he picks things back up and reintroduces that blinding orgasmic goodness. He’s actually pushing so hard that I slide slightly on the floor until he moves his left hand under my shoulder and anchors me under him. Of course, I can’t see this in my new series of orgasms and have to rely on feel, which is just peak wonderful at the moment.

“You’re a fucking miracle.” I hear him growl out as he breaks our lip lock and kisses across my left cheek, the frames of his glasses grazing my skin. My sweet fucking God. It’s all I can do, but hang on to his shirt, wail loudly, and erupt like Old Faithful. Ryan finally, *finally* starts shaking above me and it feels so amazing that I’m screaming again. He’s slamming into me so hard I might have floor burns on my back tomorrow, but my God, is this worth it. He lets out a furious yell that almost deafens me and stiffens, shoving up hard and deep about four more times as he floods me with his release.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

That’s all I can think as I black out.

Chapter Text

When I come to, I’m aware of his absence first and the sound of running water cutting off second, unable to open my eyes for a few beats. I still feel rather boneless and liquified. Je-fucking-sus. I’m finally able to peel my lids from my eyeballs and see Ryan coming toward me from the bathroom. He’s gotten rid of the shirt and is nude, still balancing a set of very messy specs on his nose as he crouches down and scoops me up. “Good, you’re awake.” He acknowledges, carrying me into the bathroom. The overhead light is shut off, but he’s got candles lit and glowing in abundance on most of the available surfaces. He sets me onto the counter and kneels down to work on the belt buckle, releasing my ankles from their bonds and gently removing my shoes and socks as I notice our clawfoot tub filled with bubbles, softly popping sounds adding to the subdued ambiance.

Oh, a bath sounds perfect right now. He picks me up off the counter and places me into the bubbles with care in the center of the tub, stepping in to settle down behind me. I feel his legs slipping around my body as he cradles me between them, his arms wrapping around my waist as he pulls my back against his chest, crushing white suds between us. This is akin to soothing, tranquil Utopia. The warm water feels so good on my overworked body. My muscles have gone through the ringer tonight, in the most pleasurable way possible. Goddamn, I am so blessed by his loving, considerate nature. He really is just the absolute best. I turn my face and tilt it up as his comes down and meets mine in the barest of grazes before his lips gift me a with a kiss that’s as sweet as the dessert traces still smudged on his glasses. My arms fold over his wrapped around me as I respond to his candy kiss and relax into the heat of his body and the warmth of the sudsy water.

“My fucking God, Ryan.” I finally say after I break our kiss in breathless awe.

“My sentiments exactly.” He laughs, “Words cannot express how immensely grateful for you that I am. I love you so fucking much.”

“And I love you, Master.” I tease him, nipping slightly at his jawline with my teeth, “I don’t think I’m recovering from the stupid you fucked into me tonight. My brain feels like tapioca.”

“I’ll take that as high praise.” He chuckles, reaching for the clean washcloth hanging on the bar next to the tub with his left hand and plunging it under the bubbles, moving it softly over my stomach and up my torso. “I send that praise back with interest for that amazing striptease, woman. You don’t just fulfill fantasies, you transcend them. Bra-fucking-vo.”

“So glad you liked.” I giggle as he caresses the washcloth over my breasts.

“Liked? Talk about your understatements. How did you get your hands on that uniform so fast, by the way?” Ryan asks.

“Quiara. She was very instrumental after the details of our fantasy fulfillment came out. Not my intention, but our phone conversation was eavesdropped and disclosed by her Major Domo, Andre.”

“What is a Major Domo?” He laughs out his question.

“Basically a glorified head butler.” I answer, “Anyway, Andre and my sisters put me through a lot of coaching over the weekend so I wouldn’t disappoint, and Quiara gave me her old uniform.”

“Well, thank her for me the next time you talk to her. And for the record, there is no *way* that you would have disappointed me. But I appreciate the effort. Fifteen out of ten.” Ryan compliments, running the washcloth along my shoulders and upper plane of my chest.

“Thank you. Believe me, it wasn’t easy for me. I had a lot to learn, and honestly was a little terrified.” I admit, stealing the washcloth from his grip and turning a little to run it along his chest and neck.

“Huh. You hid it well. Full honesty? *I* was a little scared to dominate you. *That* wasn’t easy for me.”

I look at him a bit incredulous, “Really? Well, you were perfect. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” I praise, removing his messy glasses and dunking them into the soapy water as I run the cloth along his sticky cheeks and chin.

“You know I would rather die than actually hurt you, right?” He asks me softly, his eyes almost pleading as I continue to clean his face.

“I know. I wouldn’t have asked you to do it if I thought otherwise.” I console him, popping his dripping sudsy glasses back to the perch on his nose and pecking him quickly on the lips, “You absolutely nailed it, Ryan. If you couldn’t already tell, I *really* enjoyed everything you did.”

He smiles widely, “I didn’t hear Uncle even once.” His right hand coated in bubbles cups my chin and pulls me into another kiss that distills me into liquid. I drop the washcloth into the water and wrap my arms around his neck as I twist my body to connect torso to torso, returning the kiss with as much energy as I can garner. I’m so relaxed right now I’m almost beyond dizzy. Even the amber glow of the candles is contributing to this affect currently.

I finally break our kiss, smiling dreamily at him, “The bubble bath by candlelight is a nice touch, if I hadn’t said it already.”

“You hadn’t, but in our ongoing effort for full disclosure, I should let you know that the striptease wasn’t the *only* fantasy you fulfilled tonight.”

“Really? What else?” I ask, curious and highly amused.

“All of it. Bath included.” He admits to my wonderous expression.

“*All* of it? Even my end?” I’m slightly confused, “I thought you said you were afraid.”

“I was, but that doesn’t mean that I hadn’t fantasized about it before. What can I say? Men can be complicated creatures sometimes, Micki. But yes, everything that we did tonight had at one time or another been featured in the pornographic movie starring you in my mind. I have over a year’s worth of material. We just scratched the surface tonight.” He’s retrieved the washcloth floating in the water and starts running it over my back in gentle, roaming circles.

I continue to gaze at him in a sort of gobsmacked amazement, “Wow.” It’s all I can say.

“Are you mad?” he asks me hesitantly, searching my face as he continues to move the washcloth on my lower back.

His concern tickles me for some reason and I dissolve into laughter. Is he serious? “Why on Earth would I be mad? That was incredible.” I manage out through laughter, “I’m just a little blown away by the wonderful creativity of your mind at the moment.”

“Thank God.” He laughs back in relief, “Fucking A, I love you. You really are too good to be true.”

“Right back at you.” I counter, leaning up for another kiss. Mm, delicious. “Did I bring *anything* to the table tonight, or was this exclusively your brain child?”

“Three things, actually. Glasses, lollipop, and champagne blowjob.” He lists off, smiling. “All valuable contributions, though, I’m going to really have to detail my specs to clean them up for future use.” Ryan pulls them off his face, examining the smudges still clinging to the lenses, “I do need to use these to see, occasionally.”

“A little Windex will clean them right up. Your glasses will live to see you through another sexy day, at least.” I joke, sliding my hands down his neck and chest.

Ryan reaches down and sets his glasses on the floor next to the tub, “You really like me in these?”

“Now who’s guilty of understatement?” I laugh at him, “Yes, Ryan, I find you incredibly sexy in them. Always have.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He says in an amused chuckle, “Speaking of sexy, the pigtails are an excellent look for you. Jesus.”

“Well, I’ll keep *that* in mind.” I giggle as I move in for another kiss. His arms wrap around my back as our mouths meet in a soft, slow, passionate one that dizzies me into ultimate relaxation. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to remain conscious. I break our kiss and rest my head on his left shoulder, closing my eyes, “We only scratched the surface tonight?” I mumble in my sleepy haze.

“Yeah. Are we thinking about a reprise sometime in the future?” Ryan asks, gently curious as his hands caress my back.

“Mmm-hmm. Tell me more about it when I’m back to compos mentis, though.” I respond, yawning hard against his shoulder.

“And that’s my cue to dry us off and get you into bed.” He laughs, sitting up and bringing me with him. He pulls me out of the tub with caution and dries me off with a towel as I sway in semi-awareness, falling fast. He has to pick me up and carry me to bed, because I’m so exhausted it’s impossible to walk right now.

Ryan lays me down against my pillows and disappears for a few minutes as I snuggle sleepily in my blankets. My eyes are closed, but I am aware of him sliding in next to me and wrapping me in his arms, “Where’d you go?” I slur as I cuddle into his chest.

“Had to blow out the candles in the bathroom so we don’t burn the place down.” He answers, “We can clean up the rest of the mess in the morning.”

“’kay.” I kiss the closest patch of flesh and float further into my exhaustion. “Love you much.”

I feel a tender kiss on my forehead as he holds me tighter in his embrace, “Love you too. I can’t thank you enough for tonight, lady. I meant it; you’re a goddamn miracle.”

“So are you.” I give another hard yawn and drift off, firmly believing every syllable.

Mmm, he really is all of the outstandingly good things. I’m looking forward to hearing more about his year long fantasy catalogue. But not right now.

Right now, we sleep.

End! (knocks mic stand to the ground)

“My love is like…Wo
My kiss is like…Wo
My touch is like…Wo
My sex is like…Wo
My ass is like…Wo
My body’s like…Wo
And you’re kissin’ it,
So what you think of it…” ~Mya “My Love is Like…Wo”

Author’s Note of Closing, G-Funks: Again, I had a blast writing this one, and I have Ludacris to thank for the soundtrack in my writing excursion; jamming the title song What’s Your Fantasy, but I also have to give big ups to Splash Waterfalls, End of the Night, Freaky Thangs, and Sex Room, along with his contributions on Ciara’s Oh and Missy Elliot’s One Minute Man. Oh and for the stripping scenes, I got a lot of help from How Low, P-Poppin’, and Money Maker as well. I figured since Ryan is kind of the whipping boy on Friday the 13th: The Series (He’s always biffing and getting into klutzy antics by his own doing, along with constantly getting his ass kicked, not to mention the show loves to freeze him in goofy face at the end of a good number of episodes), the least that I could do for him is bless him with the ability to hit the skins like Ludacris. Poor boy has got to be good at *something* besides rushing headlong into getting fucked up by his own doing. I also had a lot of fun with Micki’s friend Quiara, basing her loosely off of a cross between Paris Hilton and Lila Fowler from the Sweet Valley books, mixed with the right amount of cool. Ditto with Micki’s sister; I had to do my due diligence and make sure I wasn’t overlooking her name in the canon of the show, but funnily, she’s only referred to as ‘Micki’s sister’ on the actual show and no evidence popped up of any official name, so I had to come up with that one on my own. And, for a major character on a show, Micki herself has a rather bare backstory, so filling in her blanks was another challenge that I hope I overcame properly. I asked my husband about it, and he said “I just figured Micki emerged from behind a waterfall one day” as a way of explaining her mysterious presence. Possibly my favorite explanation for her origin, by the way. Husband, you rule. Just saying. And with all of that, I’m saying peaces like Reeses. Lates.

“Enough with tips and advice and thangs
I’m big dog, havin’ women seein’ stripes and thangs
They go to sleep, start snorin’, countin’ sheep and shit,
They so wet that they body start to leak and shit…” ~Ludacris/Missy Elliot “One Minute Man”