Elara’s Dreams: Santeria

The time is night.

11:03 p.m. CST

Soundtrack: Daytona by Pusha T

(Hi Hat: tick, tick, tick, tick, tick

Pullin’ up in that new toy/ The wrist on that boy rockstar like Pink Floyd/ wavin’ at rude boy/ I’m wavin’ at you boy/ Ran off on the plug too like Trugoy)

Alone she walks the streets of the upper South Side.

Hyde Park. Chicago.

Leaving the Smart Museum of Art.

The contrast between the track and our heroine is elastic.

There is no swag in her walk.

She’s dressed like Adrian from Rocky.

Non-designer glasses.

Large overcoat.

It’s color? The black and white static of an old television screen.

Of course it’s raining lightly—enough to make her hunch slightly and pull up her collar as she walks through Washington Park—not enough to get water on the lens of the camera.

The streetlights reflect off patches of water.

Strange men turn and mumble god knows what as she walks by.

She doesn’t hear shit.

Fear is for stylish girls from the suburbs.

She walks with a different kind of confidence.

Not the kind that walks into a bar sure of the fact that she won’t be paying for a single drink.

Not like a showstopper.

Not like Cameron Diaz in a red dress.

She walks like a girl who changes her own oil.

Buys furniture off Marketplace and carries it home, herself.

Like she grew up tracking her way through this city.

Like that fucking rabbit from Zootopia.

(Music: If you know, you know…)

One thing stands out—the movement.

For such a pint-size girl, she moves quickly.

She knows that trains leave every 12 minutes on the Green Line and she knows the exact one she wants to take.

I’m exhausted.

I’ve got an hour of this bullshit before I’m finally home.

The car is empty. Thank goodness.

You never know what’s gonna happen on these late-night trains.

Especially this far south.

I sit down. My bag on my lap in front of me—slipping my arms through the straps. My head finally has a place to rest.

She pulls out what looks like a silver dollar from her pocket.

Large and weighted.

The Orisha of Elegua on one side.

Saint Anthony on the other.

She spins it on the back of the seat in front of her.

Her eyes feel heavy as she watches it rotate.

Thinking of her stories.

Crafting scenes in her head.

Refining characters.

I wonder if I can figure out a way to incorporate music somehow…

Those curious brown eyes.

(Music: If you know, you know…)

Her eyes blink shut.

I feel the rain on my skin.

I look at my watch. 4 minutes to spare.

I struggle to catch my breath after running up three flights of stairs.

The station is empty. I look up and down the tracks.

There’s a tap on my shoulder.

“This is where you first got the idea to have me masturbate at the train stop.”

Her voice is unmistakable.

It’s Sara.

One of my characters.

“What are you doing outside of my head?”

She vanishes, re-materializing on a bench on the other side of the platform.

“Would you rather have me over here?” she says daringly.

She hikes her skirt up.

FUCK—those legs.

They make my knees weak.

I probably made them so perfect because I’m self conscious about mine.

She smiles.

“I wore thigh highs for you because I know how much you like them.”

She puts one of her fingers in her mouth, sensually running her tongue around it.

“Remember how wet you got when you first imagined me here…”

She plunges a finger inside.

My heart jumps.

I love Sara, that goes without saying—but I more than anyone know that she’s dangerous and not to be underestimated.

Her voice quivers, “…it’s not fair.”

I watch her with my brow furrowed, my head moving slightly like I’m listening to a moving piece of music.

“I never get to cum without you watching...” she pretends to pout.

“What do you want me to say? You’re welcome?”

“Do you always have to have control?”

Suddenly she was real close.

Too close.

I feel her hand between my legs.

Let’s get this out of the way—I’m a melter.

(That’s my second most used emoji—between the yellow heart and the face peeking through her fingers.)

“Who gets to watch you Elara? It must get lonely…”

I inhale involuntarily.

Sara whispers in my ear.

“You made me a monster.”

Lightning flashes.

In the darkness left behind after the light recedes—her eyes flash red.

“Well that’s a cool trick. Did I teach you that?”

“Tell me something Elara. Do you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want to be broken? That maybe I might want to have a real connection with someone?”

I pretend to be touched.

“I’m sorry sweety, in case you haven’t noticed—I’m don’t do Nicholas Sparks stories.”

She flashes fangs.

What the fuck?

I don’t do vampire stories either…

Elara backs away slowly from Sara.

She’s unsure—aroused, freaked out, intrigued.

She glances down the platform. The train lights are coming. The ground vibrates.

The graffiti on the opposite wall catches her attention.

(‘Eloise & Drake’ surrounded by a heart)

What are we twelve?

Sara doesn’t flinch. She tilts her head.

“You can’t write your way out of this one Elara. I made sure of that.”

She grabs me by the overcoat.

“So apparently vampire super strength is an actual thing.” I observe matter-o-factly.

“You don’t deserve to live forever.” She says.

“I mean—if I had written better characters I might…”

It was in that moment I knew she intended to throw me in front of the train.

Her pupils shrink in the light.

“Tessa sends her regards…” (that’s another one of my characters)

“Wait!” I say frantically

She hesitates just for a moment. Intrigued.

I grab her hand and suck her finger clean.

Then smile.

She’s taken aback.

“It was glistening…” I shrug, then wink.

“You sick fuck!”

The train rushes past, but the doors don’t open.

She opens her mouth to bite.

“I’m out…” I disappear, ghosting that bitch like an OnlyFans creator.

(Music: If you know, you know…)

Sara is left biting the air like Shark Week.

“…sucker!”

I’m inside the train watching her disappear through the window as I speed off.

I laugh impressed with my vampire pun under pressure.

Is it a pun? Jesus…

“Really?” a familiar voice asks in disappointment.

“Dad?” I reply.

Nah, I’m kidding—my dad thinks I’m perfect♥️

Replay scene!

“Really?” a familiar voice asks in disappointment.

It’s—

Leonardo DiCaprio!

“Dreams are built, Elara.

People think they just happen—random, chaotic, noise.

They’re not, they’re designed.

The architect lays the rules:

How gravity works.

What doors can open—and what monsters are waiting behind them.

But they need a key, the key to the subconcious.”

The camera begins rotating, circling Elara while he’s talking.

Train car, train car, train car.

Her head doing the ‘getting bored bop’ from side to side.

For just a second in the cameras sweep,her face is all we see.

Freckles, glasses, crazy hair that we expect to be wetter.

Filling the frame.

Then—

Luxury hotel room.

Lot’s of pink for some reason.

It’s giving Spy that Shagged Me vibes.

(Austin Powers. For fuck’s sake, look it up infant)

(Music: If you know, you know)

She looks right at us for a beautiful second—one brow raising playfully as she speaks.

“I mean—REALLY? Where did you think this was going?”

I walk over to the bed. Four posts.

The kind that would never be in an actual hotel.

“Every minute in the real world is 12 minutes here...” he says.

“Sounds like Allen’s dream come true.”

Allen is a mediocre, mildly talented, author who always jumps in the chat uninvited.

We happen to have been recruited by the same small publisher.

Sabrina’s fault.

He writes about nerd shit—sirens, mermaids, vampires, hobbits that fuck each other.

If I’m being honest—he’s got skills but he’s also always flirting with Candy so…

Fuck him.

(Sidenote: From now on Leo will be communicating without talking—mostly because we used all of our budget and couldn’t afford anymore lines.)

“Who is Allen?” he asks.

I start undressing myself.

Why am I undressing myself?

Oh right—Leonardo DiCaprio!

“Oh no one, just the—sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on…”

My hand rushes to my mouth and my stomach turns.

I think I’m going to throw up.

What the fuck!?!?

“Excuse me?” Leo’s says—without his mouth moving. Clearly offended.

“Never mind Leo. You are literally the only man for me—you and Ted Lasso.”

(I look at the camera, raise my eyebrows, and bring my finger under my nose. Mustache)

I lead him over to a chair next to the bed.

(Leo not Ted Lasso…and yet I wonder if we could afford Ted Lasso. Ugh, why do I do this)

There’s a knock on the door.

I open it.

“I’ve been expecting you…” I say dramatically.

My Substack bestie—Sabrina.

“Oh, it’s you—“

Her hair is matted and dirty.

Her clothes in tatters.

She looks unhoused.

Her eyes look hollow.

Still pretty hot though to be honest.

“Sabrina!?!? Girl are you okay?”

She speaks as if on autopilot.

“Have you seen Bob?”

“What abou Bob? Sabrina—what’s up?”

Ted starts to get curious…

“Who is that?”

I start talking under my breath…

“Look, Sabbie—queen. I’m a little busy right now if you know what I mean.”

I do the ‘not so subtle horse head nod’ in Ted’s direction.

She comes to her senses for a moment and whispers, “Why isn’t his mouth moving?”

“We ran out of money.”

“Ahhhh…” she says, “Can I watch???”

She looks up at me pleading.

“Fine—go to the corner and make yourself invisible.”

She tip toes her dirty ass over to the corner.

I close the door.

Instantly there is another knock.

“I’ve been expecting you…” I say dramatically as I open the door.

It’s Candy Cane.

(Audience woos and whistles)

I pull her into a deep kiss.

“I missed you.”

She smiles at me, so warm and sweet.

Instantly putting me at ease.

“Oh Sabrina’s here…” I gesture towards the corner.

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask.

I lean in careful to keep it between us.

She laughs, “She gets like that when she plays too much Mario Kart.”

(Music: If you know, you know)

Elara grabs Candy by the hand bringing her over to the bed.

Candy sits on the edge of the bed her legs spread.

Her knee high socks—red and white stripped like a peppermint stick.

Candy moves her hand like a conductor.

The lights dim.

Another wave.

The candles light.

She looks at Elara seductively.

Butterflies filling her stomach.

“Tell me what you want baby…” Candy asks.

“Allen—Allen, Allen, ALLEN…” Elara replies

Words cannot describe the look of horror on her face.

¡Eleguá está montado!

Like someone else was speaking through her.

(The music changes)

She gets up and rips Candy’s shirt open.

(Music: The Lord is my shepherd, I am not Sheep…)

Her nipples stand at attention.

She can feel Leo’s eye watching them.

Switched back to Leo because Ted watching felt…sacrilegious

She grabs Candy by the neck with one hand and buries two fingers inside of her with the other.

(Music: I am just a short stones throw from the streets…)

Candy moans.

Elara wastes no time.

She doesn’t seem like herself.

She’s looking at Candy like she wants to eat her.

I kneel between her legs and start licking her.

My tongue relaxed. Just a hint of curve at the very tip of the stroke to collect her taste.

FUCK!

Leo moans from his chair.

Candy grinds against my tongue. Looking in his direction.

She’s so intense. It’s so fucking sexy.

As I look up at her.

She looks so…

Delicious.

She’s going crazy but she’s confident.

Definitely, Cameron Diaz in the Mask level aura.

I study her eyes and I see something unexpected in the candle lite reflection I find there—

Sabrina??

I should have known!

I turn around and she is on her knees—sucking Leo’s dick like it’s an iceberg and she’s trying to rewrite history with her mouth.

Sidenote: I feel very strange.

(Music: I bring my offerin’, I will not preach)

Elara looks up at Candy with sad eyes.

Like she’s trying to memorize this moment.

Like she’s savoring the image of Candy’s naked body for the last time.

“I’m sorry.” Elara says.

“I know.” Candy replies. “It’s okay. I knew the risks. You are worth it.”

(Music: Awaken my demons…)

Elara’s eyes turn red, her fangs come out, and she bites into the inside of Candy’s thigh.

Candy lets out a whimper.

(Music: ….you can hear that man screamin’)

Elara sucks and sucks and sucks.

My mouth is filled with the taste of metal.

I’m starving.

I can’t get enough.

Sabrina screams, “Elara STOP! You’re killing her.”

“What’s that bitch? Take the dick out of your mouth and we might be able to understand what the fuck you’re saying.”

I don’t stop.

Candy turns white but she doesn’t struggle.

She simply looks down on me with a smile. And runs her fingers through my hair.

“Noooooo!!!!” the sound of Sabrina’s yell echoes through worlds.

I’m back at the train station.

Sara is there, giving serious Leo energy.

Tears stream down my cheek.

Music starts to play over the speakers…

(Music: I’m no different than the priest)

I’m silent.

Her words from earlier echoing through my mind…

“Do you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want to be broken? That maybe I might want to have a real connection with someone?”

This is getting a little intense.

Then I remember…

“The architect lays the rules:

How gravity works.

What doors can open—and what monsters are waiting behind them.

But they need a key…”

That’s right! This is my dream. I’m the architect.

I can change it.

I close my eyes hard, focusing with all my might.

Nothing happens.

I close them again.

Nothing.

Sara looks at me, her eyes patronizing mock sympathy.

The look becomes a smile.

The smile a laugh.

I ignore her and close my eyes again.

Trying to focus.

Trying to wake myself up.

Sara is laughing—disturbingly.

“You aren’t the Architect of this dream, Elara. This isn’t your dream.”

Elara looks at Sara in disbelief, confused.

“Sara—what the fuck? If this isn’t my dream. Then whose is it?”

“It’s mine.” Says a masculine voice, it’s shape stepping out of the shadows.

Allen—Fucking—Blaze.

Elara is dumbfounded, her mind racing to put the pieces together.

The vampire theme, the graffiti on the wall, the compulsive statements, and deeds.

Elara’s face fills with panic.

“But how? How is that possible? You can’t enter my mind without the key to my subconcious. How did you get the key?”

“We gave it to him.”

Sara steps to the side joined by Tessa, Elian, Maddie, Peyton, Miley—every character that she had ever put through pain.

The heartbreak was too intense to fight.

All I could do was resign.

My head laid gently on the tracks.

“You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away...”

Sara is laying on the other side.

Elara whispers, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do better. I don’t know how to be better.”

Sara turns into Candy.

“It’s okay. I’m with you. You’re beautiful. You’re enough.”

The tracks light up. Everything shakes.

I reach out and grab her hand.

My field of vision fills with the silhouette of a train car.

Black.

(Music: …priest Santeria)

Elara opens her eyes on the train.

The totem still spinning.

(Somewhere in their Mom’s basement)

Allen’s eyes open wide. He’s covered in sweat.

He opens his phone and types in the comments—uninvited of course.

“Threesome?”

Elara types out a message to Sabrina…

“Hey girlie, what time does your plane land?”

(To be continued…)

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(This is a fun series about how the pressures of moving, work, the stories of your wild friends, and pent up sexual tension can be the recipe for some very interesting dreams…

It’s a crossover event that was conjured up by my Substack Bestie (now inactive—I miss you boo) and myself in which we took turns writing episodes and letting our stylistic differences run wild!

This series is part of the Adults Only Club and literally anything can happen)

Latina Fury🔥

I always forget how much effort it takes to turn a few walls and old wood floors into something that feels like home.

I’m mid-move—boxes everywhere, no sense of order, and by the time my body finally sinks into bed, I’m wrecked.

Still, I grab my iPad and open Substack.

I have two friends I message about my stories—Q, the cheeky Brit with a distinct taste developed by almost two decades of reading erotica, and Sabrina.

They get me.

Not just the stories—but the way I feel them.

Characters don’t stay on the page for me.

They become real.

Fully formed people with voices, moods, and private little inside jokes that only I get to see.

I talk about them like I know them—because I do.

I can’t say exactly how.

It’s not normal, it’s kind of a condition.

Self diagnosed, but trust me it’s intense.

That’s what connects me and Sabrina.

I’m the librarian type—glasses, baggy sweaters, rarely leaves the house, mentally off somewhere in a daydream involving conflict, plot, and backstory.

(Think Tim Burton’s Selina Kyle before being thrown out a window and munched on by 800 kitty cats)

She’s the hot, unhinged fantasy girl—black card in one hand, bottle of lidocaine in the other. Chronically horny. Chronically gorgeous. Chronically living in a parallel dimension where every taboo is a dare she’s already taken.

And somehow—we just fit.

Because when she writes, I ride shotgun.

And when I obsess, she feels like someone actually gets her.

There’s something broken in both of us. And isn’t that kind of beautiful?

She sends me these wild, indulgent stories—jet-setting, power games, men who worship her, women who really know what they’re doing—and she knows exactly what they do to me.

Because I don’t just read them.

I feel them.

And lately… I’ve been dreaming about one of her characters— I know that she’s actually real but those lines aren’t so clear to me.

Her name is Candy Cane🫠

Though I refuse to call her that because I’m a Latina from the mean-ish streets of Chicago(no I don’t speak Spanish)…so I’ll just call her Candy.

There is something about her…

Since the first time I read about her spreading lidocaine on Sabrina’s pussy…

Since the first time I walked into the tunnel with all of the eyes…

Strange ones, not creepy ones, almost like cartoons but real…

What the fuck?

Blackness.

I call out, “Sara, can you turn on the light? I can’t see shit!”

Silence.

I can’t move.

My arms are restrained.

I feel the form of a cheap kitchen chair pushing into my back.

“Juni, if you are going through my journals again I swear to God— I’m going to tell Abuela about your stash of dirty magazines!”

Juni is my younger brother, whom I don’t live with anymore.

Wait…

I feel two hands squeezing my shoulder.

They’re NOT giving masseuse vibes.

Heels click and clack around me in a half circle.

Something is lifted. LIGHT rushes in.

My eyes struggle to adjust.

I hear her voice before I see her face.

“Who is Juni? Is he another agent you’re working with?”

Wait a second I know this voice…

I squint at the form, willing it into high def resolution.

It’s fucking Tessa…from my stories…dressed like Selina Kyle after being munched on by 800 kitty cats.

I breath a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face.

“Oh Tessa, thank god it’s you! Girl can you untie me quick, these knots are tight.”

This must be a prank cause she’s pretending like she doesn’t know me.

She looks at me with an ultra serious look on her face.

“I’m going to ask you one more time…”

I interrupt

“Why are you dressed like that? Wait are you taking me to Comic Con??? I always wanted to go!!!”

I can suddenly feel the motion of the van.

We are in a warehouse. 25ft ceilings. Concrete floors. Fluorescent Flood lights…

In the back of a van.

Must be a Ford Transit.

A tenaciously hard slap snaps me back into scene.

Something inside me starts to awaken…

“WHO…” slap

“Is…” slap

“Juni?” slap

I’m afraid.

Not of being suffocated with lip gloss by the self proclaimed “glowing goddess”—although at this point her lips do look rather delicious.

But because I recognize this feeling growing in my belly, behind my face, and in my ears.

It has plagued me and indiscriminately endangered those around me since I was a little girl…

It’s—

Latina

FURY

And when I get this way anything can happen.

I make the sign of the cross like Abuela taught me and ask for forgiveness in advance.

In my head obviously—my hands are tied!

“Juni Cortez—the fucking hero from Spy Kids you little bitch! And if you slap me one more time I’m gonna to drop your cosplay wearing ass faster than Peyton in a Frat House!”

That was mean.

It didn’t register though.

“Get her out of here!” she yells.

Two masked men, dressed in black from head to toe, that I can only assume are named Harry & Lloyd, grab my chair and toss it out of the back of the van.

I’m upside down.

Asphalt simultaneously whizzes bye and closer at the same time.

I close my eyes bracing for impact.

Concentrating. Channeling my rage.

Everything is slow now.

I hear the chair disintegrating on the pavement.

In a gravity defying move I burst out of my restraints, directing my inertia into an epic back flip.

Landing on my feet in dramatic girl boss pose— staring down my assailants.

Eyes flashing white with fury.

My leather jacket flows, my biker pants fitting just right. Black corset filled out perfectly by the incredible set of tits that I do NOT possess in real life.

I wonder where I got this outfit? Akira possibly?

Suddenly, I’m in a large room with a two way mirror.

A woman strapped in the corner, bound hand and foot, a bag over her head.

Silk crimson red bra and panties.

Honestly she looks delicious.

Her body looks vaguely familiar…like something out of my Substack inbox.

Tessa’s voice speaks over the intercom echoing off the walls…

“You’ve passed all of my games so far player 0069 but now you face your toughest challenge yet…”

I hear moaning coming from the corner—

That’s distracting

The door to the room opens and two characters dressed in Squid Games uniforms march out in perfect rhythm.

Their stomps creating the drum track to the scene.

We Will Rock You?

They line up on either side of the savory looking woman— who is now wearing red and white striped stockings.

Something about that fashion choice has always puzzled me. Like she thinks her name is a whole personality or something.

“Tessa you psychotic bitch! Whatever it is you have planned? You’ll never defeat me. I know everything about you! Even now I can read your thoughts…”

I stop mid-sentence stunned.

“That’s right Elara. You can. And so you know the stakes…”

I was stunned. It was all coming to me.

The idiot with a triangle on his mask pulls the hood off the woman’s head.

She shakes her blonde locks in slow motion—suddenly strangely complicit.

She stares me down and my knees get a little weak.

My mind flashing to last nights dream of waking up with that beautiful head buried between my legs.

A puddle of wetness pools on the floor beneath me.

A little excessive.

Who is directing this episode Quentin Tarantino?

“For your final challenge. You must survive 24hrs without tasting the Candy Cane. You know where I mean…”

“If you succeed…you both live.”

Candy- I REFUSE to use her last fucking name- moans as she pulls against her restraints.

Her tits bouncing in slow motion.

I guess they are natural after all.

“If you fail. You watch her die!”

Fuck Sabrina’s gonna be pissed cuz this bitch is probably gonna die, not gonna lie.

By the way when exactly did Tessa learn how to speak Korean?

And where are these subtitles coming from?

The door opens again and the room floods with bitch ass guards carrying sub automatic machine guns looking like PlayStation controllers.

They move between me and Candy.

“ELARA!” I hear Candy scream. “You know what you need to do!“

My eyes flash white again and I move with a grace never achieved in my two month ballet career!

Green Light.

Leg sweep. Neck snap. Grab gun. Fire.

I neutralize these pendejos with the ease of a fraudulent martial artist at an Akido demonstration.

(Of course I know that word, get over yourselves.)

One. Five. Ten. Thirty.

It makes no difference to me.

By the time I’m done Candy is very tastefully splattered with blood, not enough to invoke Carrie—just enough to be like, “DAMN, she’s hot!”

I guess Quentin isn’t directing this episode after all.

Not because of the underuse of blood— because of the suspicious absence of N-words up until this point.

Just then Samuel Jackson walks in…

Red Light.

“Nope, wrong set muthafucka! Capital One commercials are on lot B.” I yell towards him.

The ground is littered with dispatched foes.

He looks around and ducks out.

Green Light.

I hear the ticking of a clock…tick, tick, tick.

Candy strains her neck towards me.

“Take me Elara!” She says desperately.

She is perfect. Everything about her.

I keep my distance.

“I can’t Candy. I have to resist.”

She stares at me.

“But I need you so bad…” she’s begging.

Fuck you Sabrina, why do you have to be best friends with the ultimate baddie.

I mean when is a girl like me going to have this kind of opportunity again?

Then Candy gives a sly seductive smile.

Some might say evil or even sinister, but let’s be honest if she was a man— they’d say determined or resolved.

Just kidding— they’d say creepy!

Two of the fallen combatants rise to their feet as if by magic, slowly floating to her side, completely devoid of all agency.

“I need it so bad Elara…” she says

Is she legit Jedi controlling them right now?

“I always get what I want Elara and what I want is you!”

I realize that to the reader this may seem incredibly suspicious. Why would she be trying to seduce me when my surrender would mean her demise?

I promise, if you had been there— it made perfect sense.

“Don’t you like what you see Elara?” She said innocently

The stooge on her left ripped off one cup of her top like JT at the Super Bowl and my knees buckled.

Her exposed breast was perfect. Her small pink nipple erect and glistening with…honey?

The other stooge ripped off the other cup.

I dropped to my knees.

Breaking.

A third rose to his feet with a bottle of baby oil—that had a picture of some 90’s rapper/producer on it that I didn’t quite recognize— and doused her with it like it was gasolina.

Meanwhile a fourth positioned themselves behind her removing their gloves to reveal the most sensual pair of feminine hands that I have ever seen and started running them all over her body.

“Fuck Elara it feels so good…” she moaned.

I crossed my hands in front of my head trying to block out the scene before me…but clearly peeking.

I could feel my rage dissipating and the power leaving my body.

The pair of hands moved down her slender waist to her smooth pussy slipping one finger through her perfect folds.

I felt a force pulling me to my feet.

A force that I could resist—because I’m a strong independent woman—but powerful just the same.

Let’s just call it a consensual force.

It was pulling me towards her.

Everything inside of me said that I should resist, direct my attention to finding a way out.

But I didn’t want a way out.

“Don’t you want to taste me Elara?”

Fuck…yes, yes I do—Can-dy Cane.

I hate myself for that.

My body is pulled closer and closer.

Every henchmen slides to either side making way for my arrival.

They’re still dead, it’s just their bodies sliding.

“I can’t Candy. It will kill you.”

“You are killing me right now, every moment that you keep me waiting.”

She lets me down on my knees before her.

My face only inches from her pussy.

I can hear music faintly playing in the background.

Is that Beyoncé? Too hard to tell?

Focus Elara.

I reach out my tongue, slowly licking her from bottom to top.

She shudders.

Nothing happens.

I lick her again.

She literally drips into my mouth.

She tastes so good.

Not like candy at all, not like cherries or peaches—like a woman.

And those who know, know.

I dive in like a girl possessed.

I want it all.

I fill my mouth with her juices.

Slide my fingers inside.

She sounds like a symphony.

Begging me. Pleading with me not to stop.

Now I knew why Sabrina couldn’t get enough.

The music get’s louder.

It is Beyoncé!

I look around and the dead bodies have reanimated turning into a flash mob, dancing to the rhytm, like a Michael Jackson led hoard.

I kiss Candy for the first time on the mouth, passing on her fluids, liquid seeping from the seams of our entwined mouths.

I hear Tessa’s voice over the intercom.

Laughing.

Singing.

Louder and louder.

Candy’s body explodes into a fire ball.

Literally, this isn’t some overused orgasm metaphor.

She actually exploded.

I killed that bitch with my weakness for pussy.

I wake up with a start, lunging out of my bed.

Fighting the flames.

Shit.

I’m in the bedroom of my new apartment.

My body jerks upright, drenched in sweat.

My phone is blasting “Single Ladies.”

My hands go straight to my tits and I drop back to my pillow in surrendered disappointment.

Yup, definitely a dream.

I stare at the ceiling.

Damn you, Sabrina!

(To be continued…)

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Previously…

Sara’s hands curled into fists inside her sleeves as Tessa gushed about it for the hundredth time.

As she replayed the memory, her reaction now mirrored her reaction then.

What was done, was done.

But as she played it all back in her head…

How it happened.

What led to her actions.

She realized that she would have done it all over again.

Tessa couldn’t see it then.

Not yet.

But she could.

She had no choice.

Someone had to break the spell.

And that bitch along with it.

Playing with Fire (Ep 8)

Tessa wiped sauce from the corner of her mouth, giggling through a mouthful of brisket.

“I swear, if I die from this cholesterol, tell my mom I went out happy.”

Sara laughed. “I bet you’d haunt this place.”

“Absolutely. I’d possess the smoker.”

They were both warm from the food, the beer, and the buzz of good music.

It was the first time Tessa had seemed lighter in weeks. Her eyes brighter. Her laugh real.

Sara let herself enjoy it, for exactly five seconds.

That’s when she felt it.

A shift.

She turned her head and there she was.

Peyton.

Standing just inside the patio, scanning the crowd.

Her short black hair, damp from the rain, and tucked behind one ear.

She was wearing a hot pink tank top with a black leather jacket over it.

Her cleavage was fantastic.

The kind that stopped your heart and made you feel guilty—not for looking but for what you were thinking after looking.

The moment their eyes met, everything slowed.

Sara didn’t look away.

Neither did Peyton.

Tessa perked up. “Oh my god, she came!”

She stood and waved Peyton over.

As Peyton approached, Sara took a sip of her drink.

Fire in her bloodstream.

Ice on the surface.

“This is Sara,” Tessa said, glowing.

Sara stood. Holding her gaze.

Peyton smiled, polite but intrigued.

“Sara the great! Nice to meet you. Tessa’s practically obsessed with you.”

Sara steps in.

Kissing her on one cheek.

Then the other.

A soft, European-style greeting.

Her hands rested briefly at Peyton’s waist, pulling her in just slightly.

Holding her there just a little longer than she should.

When they pulled apart, Peyton was clearly flustered.

Sara looked down at her nipples poking through her shirt, then smiled slyly…

“You must be freezing”

Peyton looked down, noticing herself, and blushed.

She sat down in the third chair at the small round table—trying to play it cool.

Tessa didn’t notice.

But Sara did.

Her pulse quickened.

She didn’t have to fake the chemistry.

It was there—undeniable and low-burning, humming under the surface like a secret they hadn’t said out loud yet.

Sara felt it the moment they touched.

It wasn’t just the way she looked—though, yeah, that didn’t hurt.

It was the way she carried herself.

The stories she told.

She was funny. Surprising. Unapologetically bold.

She talked like someone who had seen the world and lived through it.

A freedom. And confidence.

If Sara was going to fuck her, it certainly wouldn’t be torture.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wasn’t bored.

She was engaged.

Finding herself leaning forward with interest—and being charming, responsive, and locked in.

They both made an effort to keep Tessa in the conversation.

But something else was happening, too.

Something in the subtext.

Glances.

Quick little winks when Tessa said something wild.

Touches that could be explained away if anyone was watching.

Sara let her fingertips brush Peyton’s hand when she passed her the napkins.

Later, she rested her foot just lightly against Peyton’s ankle beneath the table.

Sara didn’t move it.

Neither did Peyton.

When Tessa got up to go to the bathroom—asking if either of them wanted to come—Sara just smiled and shook her head.

Peyton said, no as well.

And once they were alone, the silence became electric.

Sara leaned in slightly. “You must have a great Instagram with all your travels.”

Peyton laughed. “It’s mostly me trying to get good lighting in bathrooms. But yeah, I’ve got some stunners on there too. What’s your username? I’ll request you.”

She rattled off her handle and Peyton sent the request immediately.

Sara started scrolling.

She bit her lip—just briefly—then glanced up.

“This has been an interesting night,” she said.

Peyton smiled, a little softer. “Yeah. It’s like… warm in here.”

Sara met her eyes, “I see what Gary saw in you.” she said boldly

It landed.

A slight change in Peyton’s posture.

But she recovered fast. “I see what Tessa sees in you.”

Sara smiled. “Mm.”

Sara followed up, “I always think that there are two different conversations happening when you meet new people...”

Peyton tilted her head, intrigued.

Sara went on—slow and unbothered. “The one that’s happening above the table…”

Her foot slipping between Peyton’s legs nudging them open.

“…and the one that’s happening below.”

She put her hand on Peyton’s thigh letting it drift under the hem of Peyton’s skirt—letting it rest there until one of them flinched.

It wasn’t dramatic. But it was clear.

Sara was focused but Peyton’s soft skin felt electric.

As brazen as she appeared to be, her head was spinning.

She could feel Peyton stiffen slightly—then exhale.

Her body saying more than her mouth ever could.

Tessa reappeared, sliding back into her seat, completely unaware.

“I’m so glad you guys are hitting it off!”

Peyton smiled a little too fast. Looking down at her drink. Tucking her hair behind her ear.

Sara let her hand linger just a moment longer, then pulled it away.

The burning sensation in her fingertips lingering.

She reached for Tessa’s hand across the table and squeezed it gently.

“I’d love to stay,” she said, standing. “But I’ve gotta meet up with some friends.”

She turned toward the window—it was raining now.

She leaned over, gave Peyton a quick handshake.

Nothing inappropriate.

Just enough to create a lasting impression.

“Nice meeting you,” she said.

She looked at Tessa. Then back at Peyton.

“Geez. If I’d known I was gonna get wet tonight, I would’ve dressed more appropriately.”

She flashed Peyton the slightest of winks, then pulled her collar up, and headed for the door.

Tessa called after her—loud enough for Sara to hear.

“She’s going to meet up with her vampire!”

She turned with a sinister smile and said, “Tessa dear, I am the vampire…”

Before slipping out into the rain.

She wasn’t keeping track of her mileage.

Every step was a memory she couldn’t forget.

Every inhale was a lie she’d swallowed whole.

Every exhale was a name she wasn’t supposed to say.

Peyton.

Tessa.

Aya.

She clenched her jaw and pushed harder.

Peyton gasped as Sara shoved her back against the door.

Hard.

The click of the door closing echoed behind her, followed by the low thud of Sara’s palm on the wall beside her head.

Sara didn’t speak.

She didn’t smile.

She just stared—eyes locked, breathing controlled, concealing a fire.

Peyton’s mouth parted.

God, that mouth

Sara kissed her.

No flirting, no warm-up.

She just dove right in—tongue first like she wanted to taste her thoughts before she took her body.

Peyton moaned into her mouth.

Sara wanted this way too much.

Her body was trembling.

She was going to ruin this bitch.

She grabbed Peyton’s waist and walked her backward, as she savored the taste.

They danced across the floor, pushing and pulling, leading and following, a rhythm with no wasted movement.

By the time the backs of Peyton’s knees hit the bed, she was already breathless.

Sara didn’t let her fall back.

She peeled the leather jacket from her shoulders and tossed it aside.

Then pulled the hot pink tank top over her head—deliberate and dominant.

Like she was unwrapping something she intended to use.

Peyton’s tits bounced free, nipples erect.

Sara paused.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Peyton whimpered. “Is this what you wanted?”

Sara didn’t answer.

“Say something…” she begged.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I saw you.”

Peyton’s eyes flashed weakness and desire.

Peyton wrapped her arms around Sara’s neck pulling her mouth to her own.

Tongue exploring— it felt even better than Sara imagined.

It was everything she could do to keep from melting.

Peyton whispered in her ear, “touch me.”

She pushed Peyton down onto the bed.

Climbed over her—fluid, confident, knees framing her hips.

She wrapped her hand gently but firmly around Peyton’s throat as she lowered her mouth to her chest.

Licking once.

Then she bit—just enough to make Peyton jolt and groan.

Sara dragged her tongue around the nipple, slow and wide, sucking it into her mouth and moaning softly.

Peyton squirmed.

Sara moved her attention lower.

Her free hand moving down and hiking up Peyton’s skirt.

Slipping her fingers under the fabric of Peyton’s black lace thong and dragging them down, slow and wet.

“You’re soaked,” Sara murmured. “Look at you.”

Peyton reached down—desperate to touch something, anything.

Sara caught her wrists and pinned them over her head.

“You like to play games don’t you?” Sara taunted

Peyton couldn’t talk, she just bit her lip and nodded guiltily.

Sara rose to her knees, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside—no bra.

No modesty.

Her perky tits on display, her neck and chest full of bruises.

Peyton laughed, “the vampires?”

Sara just smiled, nodding intently.

Acutely aware of Peyton filling the space between her parted thighs.

Squeezing Peyton’s neck firmly in one hand, while the other reached behind her own back, working Peyton’s clit.

Peyton’s eyes widened.

She loved it.

Sara’s fingers went to work.

Fuck, it wasn’t supposed to feel this good.

She couldn’t help but grind on Peyton’s stomach.

Peyton looked up at her in the full throes of agony and desire.

Watching Sara’s tits bounce slightly with the rhythm of her grinding.

Feeling the trail of wetness being laid across her skin.

Sara slipped a finger inside of her.

Then two.

Peyton’s legs trembled.

Her moans turning into gasps.

Her gasps turning into nonsense.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was expert.

It was precise.

And still—Sara held her throat.

Her deep blue eyes staring into Peyton.

Watching her break.

Peyton’s legs trembled.

Her moans crumbling into gasps.

And just as Peyton’s body started to arch—

Peyton’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Sara’s voice…

“Don’t you dare come yet you little whore.”

Without a word she pleaded, trying her best to obey.

Fighting to hold her body back.

Payton whimpered.

“Wait…” Sara ordered.

Before climbing up Peyton’s body and filling her open mouth with one of her tits.

Peyton’s wet tongue devoured it desperately.

Moaning like should she was going to self destruct.

Sara grabbed her by the hair, pulling her ear to her mouth…

“Now.”

Peyton shattered.

Sara held her there.

Tongue working her ear.

Rocking into her.

________

The door burst open.

“Holy fuck.”

Two guys stood in the hallway—joints half-lit, eyes wide. They didn’t move. They just stood there dumbfounded. Like they had found the door to heaven.

Sara didn’t stop.

She simply stared them down.

“Get the fuck out,” she barked.

Her voice cut like a slap.

They jumped. One muttered something. The door slammed.

But Peyton didn’t hear any of it.

She was gone.

Moaning, writhing, hands grasping for skin, sound spilling from her mouth like music Sara couldn’t get enough of.

Peyton’s climax was like a glimpse at another world.

Sara growled.

“Jesus… bitch, you are enough to drive a girl crazy.”

Peyton’s eyes flickered—lust mixed with something softer underneath.

Her sweat glazed chest rising and falling like a filthy masterpiece.

Sara tilted her head. “I can’t fucking blame her, can I? I see what you do to people.”

Peyton reached for her, arms circling her neck.

Sara wasn’t prepared for this.

It was better than she imagined.

She wanted to surrender.

She resisted.

Sara’s grip on Peyton’s throat weakens.

And Peyton seizes the opportunity.

Her fingers sliding between Sara’s legs.

Peyton whispered breathlessly, “you are enjoying this as much as I am.”

A soft moan slipped from Sara’s lips.

Fuck

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Peyton’s fingers worked like a concert pianist on a national stage.

Sara’s body tremored involuntarily.

She was unraveling—fast.

Her body clenching, pulse racing.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cum tonight.

Not for her.

Not like this.

She needed to focus.

She needed control.

Her body didn’t respond.

It was like running through water in a nightmare.

“Now it’s your turn to lose…”

Peyton’s voice sounded rooms away but somewhere in Sara’s consciousness—it registered.

She yanked Peyton’s hand away and flipped her over with the technique of a collegiate wrestler.

Mounting behind her, she grabbed a fistful of Peyton’s hair, and slid her fingers back inside.

Deeper this time—rough and fast.

Peyton gasped.

“Fuck yeah, give it to me…”

Everything slowed.

She was soaked.

Sara moved without thought—fingers pumping, eyes tracing the way Peyton’s back arched, the way her body took everything and begged for more.

She didn’t see the door crack open again.

Didn’t feel the presence of the crowd gathering behind her.

She was too far gone.

Too angry.

Too turned on.

Word had spread fast.

Some girl was fucking Peyton upstairs.

Not kissing. Not hooking up.

Fucking.

Tessa was drunk enough to believe it might be a joke.

Drunk enough to think maybe it was nothing.

She shoved her way up the stairs, stumbling over someone’s bag, elbowing past the crowd at the door.

Then stopped.

The room froze around her.

Sara was on the bed.

Behind Peyton.

Fucking her.

Like she’d done it a hundred times.

Like she knew every inch of her body.

Tessa didn’t breathe.

Sara looked up.

Their eyes locked.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t stop.

Tessa blinked. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

She turned.

Ran.

Tears streaming down her face.

And Sara?

She didn’t chase her.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t look back.

She just pressed her hand deeper into arch in Peyton’s back.

And finished the job.

She could still feel Peyton’s skin on her fingertips.

Still hear Tessa’s voice in her head.

Still taste the moment everything changed.

Her feet pounded the pavement like a confession.

Harder. Louder.

She didn’t cry.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t look back.

She just ran.

Fast. Focused.

Like if she kept going long enough, she might finally get free.

And behind her?

Everything was on fire.

(To be continued…)

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Previously…

Sara can’t help herself.

In what starts as a harmless attempt at exploration she get’s pulled into a web by an OnlyFans performer.

There relationship builds until it breaks.

But Sara doesn’t break with it, she turns into something else.

It’s unclear how she’ll respond and how it will affect Tessa and the rest of her circle of friends.

This is the beginning of the three part finale of I Can’t Touch You Like That.

Start at the Beginning

I Can’t Touch You Like That (Ep 7)

Sara ran.

Her legs moved like they were made for it—long and powerful. Her form precise. Each stride effortless, as she sliced through the morning chill along the lakeshore path.

She didn’t run for the cardio.

Or the endorphins.

Or even the view.

She ran to clear her head.

Chicago’s skyline glinted to the side of her, half-lit in dawn gold.

The lake crashing quietly on the other.

A man on a bike passed in the other direction.

Turning his head.

Slowing down.

Sara didn’t flinch.

Ponytail swinging.

Bra firm against her chest.

Her black soccer shorts hugging her curves.

She wasn’t running away from anything.

She was running to outpace the silence.

To burn off the pieces of herself she didn’t want to look.

Her feet hit the pavement like a metronome. Steady, precise, and cold.

Just like her.

She didn’t smile.

Didn’t frown.

In fact shockingly she didn’t feel much at all.

Tessa was crying.

The kind that streaked mascara down her cheeks and made her breath stutter in broken gasps.

She was throwing clothes into an obnoxiously large pink suitcase—grabbing at drawers, yanking hangers, unfolded, wrinkled, desperate.

Sara stood in the doorway.

She couldn’t help but wonder where Tessa even kept that monstrosity—and how she’d never seen it before.

“You can’t leave over this,” Sara said.

Her delivery was awful.

She could be charming when she wanted to be.

But moments like this were her Achilles heel.

Tessa’s head snapped up, eyes wild and glossy.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Sara didn’t answer.

Tessa turned back to the bag, shoving harder.

“I mean, actually—what the fuck is wrong with you?”

A hoodie bounced off the lip of the suitcase.

“She basically fucked everyone on campus but me.”

The trail curved.

Sara attacked it without hesitation.

Her hair whipped behind her.

The burn in her legs helped.

So did the cold air in her lungs.

For a second—just a second—she could pretend she hadn’t hurt anyone.

That her hands weren’t dirty.

That she was still the Sara that she had always been.

She replayed the events of the past week.

Not in order of events.

But in memories as they entered her stream of thought.

Tessa kicked the door open with her foot—barely able to contain her smile.

Okay.

There was zero containment happening.

She bounced with each step like her body hadn’t caught up to what had just happened.

Lip gloss smudged. Jacket collar crooked. She looked like a girl who’d just been kissed in public and wanted the entire world to know.

“Hellooooo,” she called out, voice sing-song and flushed with adrenaline.

“Guess who just made out with Peyton fucking McAllister?”

No answer.

She dropped her keys. Kicked off her boots. Did a slow 360 with her arms out like a little girl on a summer day, then flopped face-first onto the couch, giggling into a throw pillow like a teenager.

Sara looked up from her book and smiled, “That good, huh?”

Sara’s phone vibrated.

Tessa had sent her a screenshot.

Tessa: My lips are on 🔥

Peyton: u taste like honey & tequila

Tessa bit her lip, grinning so hard it hurt.

Sara glanced at the photo, then at Tessa’s limbs, sprawled wide like a starfish.

She looked back again, mystified at how Tessa had managed to take and send that screenshot mid-fall.

Then Tessa sat up suddenly—remembering.

“Guess who we ran into there??? Gary!!! AWKWARD.”

Sara raised her eyebrows doing her best to appear invested.

“How’d that go?” She asked.

“He just came up to me a DRUNK mess. Talking about how he had to speak to me.”

“Oh no. How did Peyton respond?”

“She was cool about it. I told her we’ve been friends since forever and that yes he’s in love with me, but no, I don’t love him like that.”

Her voice trailed off—smiling again, almost drunk on the memory.

“Anyway. Nothing can ruin the best night of my life.”

Sara couldn’t suppress a smile, even as she tried to resist rolling her eyes.

Tessa looked at her, head tilted as if she was trying to solve a puzzle she didn’t have the pieces for.

Then she gasped, delighted.

“Oh my god. You WHORE!”

She launched off the couch like she’d been ejected.

Sprinting toward Sara with full gremlin energy.

“Look at your fucking neck!”

Sara burst out laughing, yanking the comforter up like a shield.

“Shut up,” she grinned, already flushed.

Tessa was undeterred.

She knelt on the edge of the bed, clawing at the blanket, desperate to get a better look.

“Who the fuck did that to you!?”

she demanded. “Is that a bite mark?! You’ve always had Bella energy but DAMN…”

Sara shook her head, laughing harder as she clutched the blanket tight.

“You’re insane.”

Tessa narrowed her eyes. “I’m insane?? Bitch, you are literally trying to gaslight me into believing you haven’t been getting cracked by a vampire.”

She pointed, accusatory. Dead serious.

“Neck. Bite. Bruises. Audrey Hepburn scarves every day for a week. Girl, you are not slick.”

She didn’t slow down.

Not even a little.

The wind bit at her skin.

Her legs screamed.

Good.

She welcomed the pain.

It was something she thrived on.

This kind of suffering made sense.

Peyton leaned across the bar, running her finger around the rim of her glass like she was hypnotizing him.

Her lip gloss caught the neon.

Her chest glistened—sweat, oil, aura, maybe.

Gary was already smiling.

High or drunk or both—he couldn’t stop blinking, like he wasn’t sure she was real.

Peyton didn’t mind.

She enjoyed the attention.

“Are you always this high,” she asked, tilting her head.

He grinned. “You always this hot?”

She smirked.

Oblivious to him, he was on the hook and she was reeling him in.

Peyton stepped closer, closing the space between them with the kind of confidence that came from knowing the effect she had on people.

Then she leaned in—closer than necessary—until her lips were almost at his ear.

“What’s going on with you and Tessa?” She asked coyly, “Are the two of you a thing?”

Gary’s eyes suddenly flashed sadness.

“We’re old friends. It’s whatever. It’ll never happen but she’ll always be my number one.”

Peyton took a sip of her drink, eyes locked on him over the rim.

Then she slid a hand up his chest.

Tugging at his shirt.

“Come on,” she said. “I’m bored.”

He resisted, too out of his mind to realize what was happening.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“I’m going to fix you.”

Across the bar, Sara saw everything.

She hadn’t meant to.

Those two were the last people she’d be looking for.

But there it was.

Peyton—flushed, glowing, greedy.

Gary—already tipping and enjoying the ride.

Tessa’s dream girl.

Wrapped around a boy who still thought Taco Bell was a personality.

Sara’s jaw clenched.

Her drink, untouched.

Her pulse, suddenly sharp.

All she could do is watch as Peyton pulled Gary toward the hallway, laughing like the night was hers.

Sara’s fingers tightened around her glass.

She didn’t know yet what she was going to do.

Only that something in her had snapped.

Back to the trail.

The scene played again behind her eyes—

but slower this time.

Clearer.

Sharper.

She felt the same way now that she did then.

Peyton wasn’t drunk.

She wasn’t confused.

She wasn’t swept up in the moment.

This wasn’t something new to her.

This was her game.

Playing with people.

Tasting them.

Tossing them aside.

Seeing what she could get away with.

Sara clenched her jaw, breath ragged as the rage uncoiled into something more intense.

It made her sick to her stomach.

But it also made her wet.

No one had ever given that bitch what she deserved.

No one had ever gotten the best of her.

Sara’s pace quickened.

Her body was on autopilot but her mind was back in that bar, watching the space they left behind.

It was so vivid.

Feeling those feelings, thinking those thoughts.

The challenge was intoxicating.

She didn’t want to hurt Peyton.

Not exactly.

She wanted to break her.

Slowly.

Perfectly.

From the inside out.

The way she knew Peyton had done to others.

The way she had broke Tessa.

Sara sat on the edge of her bed, withdrawn, knees tucked, hoodie sleeves covering her hands.

She wanted to say something.

Wanted to tell Tessa what she saw.

But the words got caught in the back of her throat, like gum under a desk.

What if she was overreacting?

What if she was wrong?

Tessa was humming softly, rummaging through her makeup bag, half-dressed and glowing.

She paused.

Looked up at Sara.

“Okay. What’s up with you?”

Sara hesitated.

“Nothing Tess why?”

“Are you weirded out because I know you’ve been fucking one of the Cullens?”

Sara laughed, “No…”

“Then what is going on?”

“Okay, it’s about Peyton. I don’t know how far things went—”

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

A knock exploded against the door.

Tessa jumped.

Then peeked out the peep hole before opening the door.

“Jesus Christ, Gary,” she groaned, as she opened the door. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Gary stood there—messy hair, glassy eyes, shirt halfway untucked, energy all over the place.

He looked like he was running from the cops.

His gaze flicked to Sara.

Then back to Tessa.

Shifting uncomfortably.

“Can I talk to you in private?”

Tessa rolled her eyes.

Sara couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Gary, I’m getting ready. And I’m not kicking my roommate out over some dumb shit. She already knows everything anyway. So just say whatever you’ve got to say and get it over with.”

Gary winced.

He glanced at Sara again, clearly embarrassed.

Then gently tugged Tessa toward the bed, behind the dressing screen, as if that would give them privacy.

Sara stayed frozen, listening.

“I have to tell you something,” he mumbled. “But don’t hate me.”

Tessa sighed. “Yes, I’ve put that together, Gary. What is it? Did you get someone pregnant? Oh my God—did you give me an STD?”

“WHAT?! No!”

Sara sat stiff as stone.

Waiting.

Like that puff of air at the optometrist’s office.

She knew it was coming.

Just not exactly when.

“I seriously don’t have time for this.”

“I slept with Peyton.”

Sara’s eyes widened.

She instinctively checked to make sure they couldn’t see her.

Then looked around—searching for a reaction from the audience that wasn’t there.

Tessa barked a laugh. “Why are you ALWAYS fucked up, Gary? You’re not making any sense.”

“She came up to me at the bar. Out of nowhere. She was so hot. I don’t even know what she was saying really. She asked me about you and I told her… I told her you’ll always be my number one.”

He looked down, ashamed.

“She said she’d fix that for me.”

Tessa narrowed her eyes. “Gary. Stop. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but stop. I’m worried about you. You seriously might need rehab or something.”

“She took me to this hotel. Like a crazy fancy one. And we fucked…

I think it worked.”

Tessa blinked. Then laughed—talking to him like he was muttering nonsense in his sleep.

“What worked? Your dick for once?”

Gary didn’t laugh.

“She fixed me.”

Pause.

“I don’t know how I could do this to you though, Tess…”

Tessa frowned. “What do you mean she fixed you?”

Gary exhaled, soft and stupid.

“I’m not in love with you anymore,” he said. “I think I’m in love with her.”

That hit.

It was nonsense.

Absolute, delusional, off-the-rails bullshit.

But it hit.

Tessa stared at him, expression hardening.

“Okay, Gary,” she said slowly. “Get the fuck out. You are taking this shit way too far.”

He didn’t move.

“GET. THE FUCK. OUT!”

Sara’s breath fogged in front of her, but her mind was boiling.

She was replaying it again—

Not the moment Gary said it.

Not the part where Tessa screamed.

No.

What came after.

Peyton had admitted it.

Casually. Openly. Like she was recapping a TikTok she’d just seen.

She said she thought she was “helping.”

Helping?

Sara could still see the way Tessa froze as she told it.

Still hear the way her voice cracked—

and then softened.

And the worse part was how in the days that passed, she started rationalizing and explaining things away.

“Well… I mean, we were never official… and he was really drunk… and I did kiss her right in front of him…”

Like it was her fault.

Like Peyton hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing.

Sara’s pace picked up.

She saw it clearly now.

Tessa was under some kind of spell.

Caught in the shine of someone who knew exactly how to make you feel chosen and then discard you when the novelty wore off.

It was cruel.

And it was calculated.

Sara’s hands pulled inside her sleeves as Tessa gushed about it for the hundredth time.

As she replayed the memory, her reaction now mirrored her reaction then.

Fists tight.

What was done, was done.

But as she played it all back…

How it happened.

What led to her actions.

She realized that she would have done it all over again.

Tessa couldn’t see it.

Not yet.

But Sara could.

She had no choice.

Someone had to break the spell.

And that bitch along with it.

(To be continued…)

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Previously…

Aya was online.

But not responding.

So when her ex showed up at the party, Sara didn’t run.

She got even—by fucking him.

Not in real life.

In her thoughts.

She turned those thoughts into a story.

And sent it to Aya—blow by blow.

Aya was game.

She probably even liked it.

And Sara?

She used the fantasy to cum harder than she ever had in her life.

But the lines between fantasy and reality were starting to blur.

Some marks were real.

And they were starting to show.

Start at the Beginning

ICTYLT Ep 1

City of Stars (Ep 6)

The final note of City of Stars floated into the night, carried off by the breeze rolling over the beautiful Chicago skyline. Lights blinked across the towers.

The screen dimmed and transitioned to the Rooftop Cinema logo.

Tessa was the first to speak.

“Gary told me he’s in love with me.”

Sara turned, slowly. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Like… in love. Capital L, ‘you’ve always been the one’ love.”

She took a sip of her drink like she was washing the memory down.

“I laughed. Then I said he should maybe try mushrooms. Or therapy. Or both.”

Sara stifled a grin. “And what did he say to that?”

“He said he wasn’t joking.”

They both stared straight ahead for a second.

Sara broke the silence. “So… are you?”

“God no.” Tessa groaned. “He’s a disaster. I love him like… like a pet you’ve had forever, but if it ever bit someone you’d be like, ‘Yeah. That tracks.’”

Sara laughed—then gave her a sideways glance.

“You going out tonight?”

Tessa hesitated. Too long.

“Maybe,” she said.

Sara’s brow lifted. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” she said, definitely being weird. “I just don’t want to… jinx anything.”

Sara narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you worried about jinxing anything? Oversharing for that matter?”

Tessa gets quiet, “This is different.”

Sara’s expression shifted. Something unreadable passed behind her eyes.

“So…” she said carefully, “who is it?”

Tessa bit her lip, then confessed like a kid who knew she wasn’t in trouble but still couldn’t help whispering.

“Peyton.”

Sara’s whole body turned toward her. “Peyton Peyton? Like—hot, broody, ‘probably straight but maybe not’ Peyton?”

Tessa nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah.”

Sara blinked. “And you didn’t tell me because…?”

“Because I like her, okay?”

She looked down at her drink.

“Like… like-like. And I didn’t want to fuck it up by running my mouth before anything even happened.”

Sara just stared at her for a second.

Then: “You told me you once faked a seizure to get out of a second date. But this, you keep quiet?”

“Shut up,” Tessa mumbled, but she was smiling.

“So how did it happen?”

“I was drunk last night. Like, annihilated. I walked up to her and asked if she liked horses.”

Sara blinked. “Tessa. What the fuck?”

“I don’t know!” she half-shrieked, half-laughed. “I panicked! I was like, ‘Do you ride horses or own them?’ and she just laughed. So I knew.”

“Knew what? That she’s not in 4H?”

“No,” Tessa said simply. “That she wasn’t mean.”

Sara snorted. “Jesus.”

“We’re meeting at Lone Wolf. Then maybe a little putt-putt. Anything could happen.”

“What time?”

Tessa checked her phone.

“Fifteen minutes ago—shit!”

She jumped up, knocking over her drink. “How do I look? How do I smell? Do I have popcorn in my teeth??”

She didn’t wait for answers. She was already jogging toward the exit, bag swinging, hair catching in the wind like a chase scene.

Sara watched her go. Smiling.

Then—

Sara’s phone vibrated

Tessa: btw… who ru fucking?

Sara: ?????

Tessa: uve worn a scarf every day this week. I know ur obsessed with Audrey Hepburn but I seriously haven’t seen your neck in an entire presidential term.

Sara: Bye, Tessa.

Tessa:🤔 maybe you DID take my Plan B

Sara laughed, almost too loudly.

Without a thought, she touched her neck.

Still faintly tender.

Her pussy pulsed.

Then she stood.

The skyline was still glowing.

But something inside her had gone dark.

Sara walked through the West Loop to the soundtrack of her CMAT playlist, the kind of songs that made the city feel like a movie she wasn’t a part of.

She passed a mural bursting with color.

A pop-up art gallery with people spilling onto the sidewalk, wine glasses in hand.

Posh Girls in groups and guys in packs.

There was life everywhere. Style. Intention.

Humanity that didn’t need permission to be there.

She turned a corner.

Two girls holding hands brushed past her, their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Without thinking her hand went to her neck.

She told herself it wasn’t a reaction—but her thighs pressed together anyway.

The closer she got to the CTA station, the quieter the streets became. The noise gave way to echo. Lights blurred against the evening haze. Her phone buzzed.

But she didn’t check it yet.

She was already thinking about her next hit.

Sara pulled the scarf from her neck.

Patches of bruises bloomed across her skin—faint, tender, impossible to ignore.

She didn’t flinch. She let the cool air touch her.

She squared her shoulders.

Straightened her spine.

If anyone looked at her twice, she’d let them.

She was daring them to.

Even if she didn’t know why.

Sara sat alone on the bench, legs crossed, scarf loose around her neck. The city hummed in the distance—far enough to feel untouchable. Even the platform felt paused. Still.

She opened OnlyFans.

Aya had messaged.

Aya: I’m waiting for you baby 🥵🥵🥵

(Photo: Aya lying on her stomach, bare back exposed, cheek resting against a pillow. Her arm tucked beneath her, nothing showing but skin and suggestion.)

Sara swallowed.

Sara: You know my imagination is VERY vivid 😍

If I were there right now… OMG 🫠🫠🫠

I can almost feel your soft skin under my fingertips 🥵

Aya: I’m sure we can cuddle right now if you are beside me

Sara smiled. A real one.

Sara: I would LOVE that. Just taking the time to enjoy touching you and feeling you close to me—maybe while watching a scary movie ;-)

A low rumble passed beneath her feet. A train is approaching, still far off.

She glanced around.

Empty.

Her hand drifted between her legs. Light. Needy.

(Aya sends a video. $20 to unlock.)

Sara tapped.

(Aya, in a tan cropped tank top and black yoga pants. Slow hands tracing her curves. Shirt lifting just enough to show underboob. No smile. Just heat. She swayed like Sara was in the room.)

Sara shifted. One hand between her legs, the other steady on her lap. She was wound up so tight she thought she might snap.

Aya: I’m slowly removing my clothes right now baby 🥵

Sara: Lol, how long do you think we could cuddle before we end up fucking?

Aya: It depends on you baby 🥵🥵🥵

You can spoil me for as long as you want…

Or start licking my pussy now 😈

Sara let her head fall back. Chest rising. Hand still moving—just slightly.

Sara: You and me… cuddling in your bed, topless, in cozy shorts, watching a movie…

My fingers tracing your body gently…

Aya: Ughhh I want you to lay me back and eat me until I’m shaking 🥵🥵🥵🥵

Sara: God…that’s so hot.

(Aya sends a video. $29 to unlock.)

(She’s topless now. Touching her breasts. Her nipples caught between her fingers. The camera stays tight. Intimate. Intentional.)

Sara slid a hand under her shirt. Fingertips skimmed her bra. Her thighs tensed.

Sara: You’re like fucking kryptonite.

You make me so weak. I’d let you do anything. I’d do anything for you.

Aya: I’d pull you up to my mouth while I touch your pussy

You can dominate me if you can 🥵🥵🥵

Tell me—how would you make my pussy wet right now?

Sara didn’t blink.

Sara: I grab your wrist. Bring your fingers to my mouth.

I suck them slowly—looking straight into your eyes.

Then I start grinding on your thigh because I can’t help it.

You’ve brought something out of me, and I don’t know if I can control it.

The heat climbed. Her pulse quickened. A faint sound echoed from the other platform. She didn’t stop.

Aya: You turn me on so much 🥵 I don’t think I could control myself if I was around you 💦💦

Sara: I kiss you. Tongue first, soft at first, then deeper.

As I move my fingers to your pussy…

Sara rocked forward.

One hand inside her underwear. The other was under her shirt.

The platform buzzed under her feet.

Still, she didn’t stop.

Aya: I want to feel your strong hands on my body baby touching me rough

Sara paused.

Strong hands?

Sara: I can’t touch you like that…

But I tease you over your panties. Barely brushing your clit—just enough to make you beg.

Sara: You moan “fuck” into my mouth… so I bite your bottom lip.

Aya: Don’t stop baby please

Sara: I grab both your wrists. Hold them over your head.

Sara: I press my naked body into yours.

Then slip one finger inside your wet, warm pussy…

Sara slipped two of her fingers inside herself and started fucking without shame.

Aya: I love the way your big fingers feel inside of me

Sara blinked.

Someone coughed.

She was being watched.

Big?

She reread it.

Twice.

Her rhythm faltered.

She tried to move past it.

Sara: I don’t know how big my fingers are…

But I slide my thumb to your clit while I work my finger in and out.

Sara: Grinding on your thigh like I can’t get enough…

Aya: Ughh only if you can see how I fucking right now on the video baby 💦💦💦

“How I fucking…”

Sara read it again.

The cadence. The grammar.

Something was off.

It wasn’t her imagination.

But the heat was still pulsing.

And she wasn’t ready to stop.

(Aya sends another video. $33 to unlock.)

(Aya’s in black silk underwear. Posing. Moaning softly. Nothing too graphic—just enough to keep the illusion alive.)

Sara hesitated—

Then tapped.

Aya: Just put your hard dick inside of me

Silence.

Everything inside her froze.

Her fingers stilled.

Her breath caught.

Hard dick.

She reread it.

Then again.

There was no way to explain it.

The words weren’t just wrong—they were meant for someone else.

Another client.

Another fantasy.

Someone who wasn’t her.

She pulled her hand from her pants like she’d touched a burner.

Then stared at it.

At herself.

Half-undressed. In public. Chasing a lie.

The warmth drained from her chest.

“Hey baby you need some help over there?” said a young guy as he grabbed his dick.

Reality rushed back in like a cold wind through an open door.

She was alone.

Exposed.

Stupid.

(Another video. $49 to unlock.)

She didn’t even read the caption.

Her screen blinked.

Waiting.

Sara just sat there.

Empty.

The platform lit up as the train turned the corner.

The spell was broken.

Her fingers glistened in the brightness.

The train screeched into the station.

She boarded. Her face was emotionless.

What was she feeling exactly?

She always knew what this was.

She was disappointed that the game was ruined.

She moved her hand to her neck and pinched so hard she winced.

Letting out a little moan. Then pinching again.

Oh well, she thought.

Putting her fingers in her mouth and licks them clean.

One game ends.

Another begins.

And Sara?

She was just getting started.

(To be continued…)

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Next Episode

Previously…
She looks up.

Scott’s mouth is still moving, totally oblivious to the fact that she couldn’t care less about whatever the fuck he was saying.

She looks at her phone again hoping for a miracle.

Nothing.

She’s busy with another client.

Her breathing deepens slightly, chest rising, a flush climbing her throat.

She stares at the screen.

Motionless.

And then, out of nowhere she speaks—

“Do you want to fuck?”

Start at the Beginning

ICTYLT Ep 1

Missed My Stop (Ep 5)

They are barely through the door of her dorm before she turns, grabs a fistful of his shirt, and kisses him like she means to erase every version of herself he used to know.

Sara’s black cropped sweater wouldn’t be designated as immodest on most—but the way it wraps her curves feels dangerous.

Her pleated skirt sways around her thighs as she steps into him.

One hand sliding down, unapologetically bold, guiding his fingers beneath her skirt.

She gasps into his mouth.

She’s soaked.

The way she kisses him—slow, ravenous, and surgical—isn’t nostalgic.

It’s something darker.

Sharper.

Like she’s chasing a ghost.

He feels small.

And that’s exactly how she intends it.

Because this has nothing to do with him.

Aya flashes into her mind.

Laughing.

Teasing.

Sending dirty videos to someone else.

Someone new.

Her jaw tights.

She kisses him harder.

Squeezing her fingers around his neck.

Punishing him for another person’s sins.

Even though he had plenty of his own.

Her hand finds the zipper of his jeans.

She drags it down with slowly and wraps her hand around him.

He’s so ready she’s embarrassed for him.

The noise he makes is more of a whimper than a moan and a dark thrill pulses through her body.

He’s become her toy.

And she’s going to use him as she sees fit.

She strokes him once.

Then again.

A perfect rhythm, punctuated by a slight twist of her wrist.

“Is this what Gigi did to you?” she whispers.

Cool and cutting.

“Did she touch you like this?”

His eyes widened.

But he doesn’t stop her.

Pathetic.

She pushes him onto the couch.

Lifting her skirt as she straddles him.

He doesn’t know what hit him.

She takes him inside her like she’d been planning this for days.

Like her body had been coiled and ready.

He’s feels bigger than she remembered.

Yet still familiar.

She rocks once—testing.

A slow burn building behind her ribs.

Then again, deeper.

She doesn’t close her eyes.

She watches.

Watching without seeing.

He groans helplessly as she clenches around him.

Closing her eyes.

Moving faster.

More purposeful.

Finding her rhythm.

Flashbacks begin sparking through the neurons in her brain.

She kisses him softer—tongue first, mouth open—her hands steady on his chest.

Nails digging into his skin.

“You fucked up didn’t you?” she asks.

He doesn’t say shit.

“This pussy was yours and you fucked up—like a little fucking whore.”

Her pace is ruthless.

He watches her move like she was from another world.

Afraid to break the spell.

If he was alert enough he would have noticed that she was in another world.

Transfixed on someone who wasn’t there.

She pulls up her sweater pushing one of her full tits into his mouth…

Just like Aya had done to her.

His tongue is clumsy and unsure.

It doesn’t matter.

She was too far gone.

Too sensitive from carrying the weight of Aya’s ghost.

Every touch, every gasp, every aching throb—it all belonged to her.

To Aya.

And she was pissed.

Pissed that Aya hadn’t responded.

Pissed that she had caught feelings for a whore.

Pissed at that green fucking status light taunting her.

And this poor fuck was paying the price…

“Stand clear of the closing doors. Next stop Clybourn.”

It was like the scene poured out of her as she typed

Sara: He’s grabbing my waist and touching my body. I’m remembering what it was like to grab YOUR waist and touch YOUR body.

I push him back against the couch and take off my shirt…

Leaning back.

Letting him see the marks on my chest and neck.

I can tell that his mind is fucked but I don’t give him time to ask questions.

I start grinding harder.

Using every centimeter of him.

Pushing him into all the right places.

I can tell he has questions but he can’t say shit.

I enjoy torturing him.

Using him for a change.

Hundreds of images and thoughts of you are going through my mind.

Your sounds, your skin, your tongue inside my mouth, your fingers in my pussy…

He’s looking at me like I own him.

Hands all over me like a clumsy drunk boy.

To be honest- it’s distracting.

I grab them and hold them over his head.

Touching my neck and my tits with my free hand as I ride him into submission.

In my head I hear your voice.

“You did this to me Sara”

Aya: You are all mine, make him all yours but you will always be mine. 😈

Sara: I know he won’t last much longer so I enjoy a few last plunges before I pull him out of me and finish him by grinding my clit on the shaft of his rock hard dick.

He’s a mess.

It’s kind of tragic but I feel sexy and powerful as fuck. And I’m SO close.

Aya: That’s cheeky of him to think you were his. Serves him right. Fck. Thinking of you rubbing ur clit with his cock as he begs is hot af!

Sara: I can hear you asking me to cum for you.

I’m so fucking wet.

He’s saying something about cumming but I can barely hear him.

I’m about to explode and as I do I say…

“I’m hers I’m FUCKING hers! Oh fuck!”

(Aya sends a video $10 to unlock)

Aya: Look at me rn taking my top off thinking of what you have done with your ex. Fck, I want to punish you both and take you all to myself.

Sara unlocks it without even watching.

She’s locked in.

Sara: I can feel his cum on my stomach and I cum SO HARD!

Aya: fck, I want that clit all to myself.

Sara: We lay there breathless for a second and he says…

“What the fuck was that?”

Sara: I laugh and tell him to put his clothes on quick I want to take him somewhere.

I lead him outside the dorm door into the hall & close it behind him.

This time for the last time.

Aya: Fck that was savage af! You at it Sara! I love it!

Sara: Lol, in real life I just left the party and went home🙃

but since YOU were ignoring me…I had to get creative

Aya: Awww, that was last weekend?

Sara: Yeah :)

Aya: Well, I know that ur a writer but ur imagination 😈 it’s a little scary, in the hottest way

I’m a lucky girl 😘

Sara: 😊

Aya: maybe I’ll go missing again this weekend. See what you come up with next

The train vibrated and shook back and forth

Sara slowly snaps out of the spell.

Looking out the window.

Then just about jumps out of her seat.

Sara: Shit! I missed my stop! Like two stations ago!!!

Lol, I wish I could stay longer but I need to get to work!!!! 😘😏

Her fingers brush a patch on her neck without thinking.

Sore.

Faintly discolored.

She doesn’t flinch.

The train stops and she rushes out.

Running to make it to the other platform, to catch the opposite train.

Breathless she types.

Sara: Let’s see if I can focus…

(To be continued…)

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Previously on Episode 3

(AyaRoseXO: We really outdid each other. I hope this won’t be the last time, Sara…

Sara: When I said that I was here to explore… fuck!

This is my first time expressing these kinds of things to another girl and OMG

I must confess, I LOVED it♥️

Thank you for being so incredible🥰

Sara: And for the incredible experience 😘

She re-reads it once.

Twice.

Then—sends.

The silence after is distinct, but not empty.

It was the kind of silence that follows something important.

Like something was at stake.

AyaRoseXO: love it when you say it like that. Promise me it won’t be the last, okay?

Sara feels it in her chest.

She knew it was a transaction.

She smiles anyway.

She doesn’t want to ruin it yet.)

Start from the Beginning…

ICTYLT Ep 1

The Pathetic Puppy (Ep 4)

Sara stood in the bathroom, staring at the text thread with Mom & Dad.

She’d already written and deleted four drafts.

She hated lying.

But last night had gotten… expensive.

One click at a time. A couple pics. A few videos.

She hadn’t hesitated.

Now her account balance looked like the inside of a toilet bowl after a night of heavy drinking.

She swallowed, typing slowly.

Hey, sorry to bug you. I’m a little short this week- do you mind helping me out?

A beat.

She stared at it.

Then added.

Just had a few things come up that I wasn’t expecting.

Her face looks like it’s still not quite satisfied.

Nothing serious! Just school stuff.

And the cherry…

Love you. Let me know if that’s okay.

She hits send before she can talk herself out of it.

Sara tosses her phone onto the counter and steps out of the shower, steam curling around her.

The room is thick with heat, but her mind is somewhere else entirely.

She catches her reflection in the foggy mirror.

Wiping the steam away with the side of her arm and staring at her reflection.

Her skin was glowing.

Her lips a little swollen.

Her eyes…softer.

She tilts her head and runs a hand along her neck.

“You’re mine. I’m going to mark my territory…”

She presses her fingertips firmer into her skin, dragging them lightly- imagining the ghost of Aya’s mouth tracing that same path.

Her other hand drifting lower, her fingers barely grazing her inner thigh.

Gently redirecting drops of water across her skin.

She slowly slides a finger through from bottom to top.

God.

She’s wet again.

She closes her eyes, biting back a moan.

Knock knock knock.

“Hurry up, Sara! Some of us have lives.”

Tessa

Of course.

Sara savors a few final moments of pleasure.

“I’ll be out in a sec!”

She grabs her towel, wrapping it tight around her body, squeezes her eyes shut and pauses for a moment putting her hand on her chest and trying to control of her breathing.

She opens the door, still damp, and Tessa barges in instantly—already halfway into her eyeliner routine by the time Sara has taken three steps.

“Thank God,” she mutters, checking her reflection. “I have approximately ten minutes to transform from Shrek’s wife into a glowing goddess and every second counts.”

Sara smirks, stepping toward her side of the room to get dressed.

Tessa narrates her life between flicks of mascara.

“Random question—If a girl says ‘hi’ to you every time she sees you but only calls you by your full name, is that gay or just annoying?”

Sara raises an eyebrow.

“Depends. What’s the context?”

Tessa hesitates, letting out a nervous breath.

“Her name’s Peyton. She’s, like… stupid pretty.

She was in my psych group project and I’ve been trying not to flirt with her for three weeks.”

Sara smiles softly as she pulls on a pair of jeans.

“So what’s the problem?”

Tessa shrugs.

“I don’t know. Girls are… different.”

She start outlining her lips.

”Guys are easy. You smile, and they chase. But girls…”

She turns to look at Sara earnestly.

“I don’t know if she wants to kiss me or borrow my notes.”

She gives herself a quick once-over in the mirror, then turns back to Sara—now tugging a high-neck sweater down over her head.

“Wow. Full turtleneck? What’s that about?” Tessa grins. “Hiding something?”

Sara freezes for half a second—just long enough.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed.

“Wait… are you covering up hickeys?”

Sara’s hand moves to her neck instinctively. Just a whisper of touch.

A flicker of Aya’s words, explode into her consciousness

“I want to mark my territory…”

She looks down at the floor, the faintest smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she mutters, grabbing her bag.

But she doesn’t deny it.

Sara lingers on the patio behind the café, apron still half-tied, phone in hand.

Aya: Good morning, girlie! What are you up to?

Sara: Ugh. I’m at work. What are you up to?

(A new photo pops up—Aya, radiant and makeup-free, hugging the head of a handsome chocolate lab.)

Aya: Just cuddling with my man, Bowie.

Sara can’t help but smile.

Sara: OMG. He’s adorable.

Aya: He says thank you 😊

Aya: Do you think you’ll have time for some fun later?

Sara stares at the screen, then flickes open her bank app.

Balance: $41.28

Sara: We’ll see… working all day, then heading out with friends tonight.

Aya: Okay, try not to have too much fun without me 😉

Inside, work is a blur.

She’s in another world.

Lost in a labyrinth of memories, thoughts, and fantasies.

Every buzz of her phone causing her to jump with urgency like it might save her life.

Colin, her manager—a chill guy with a world class stash of vintage band tees and permanent coffee breath—gives her a once-over from the bar.

“You okay?”

“Totally,” she lies, then leans towards him “Can you cover me? Just for a sec?”

She doesn’t wait for his consent.

In the bathroom, she yanks her phone out like it owes her a hit.

A new text from Mom.

Mom: Sorry girl. You have a job and a savings account. Year two—figure it out.

She rolls her eyes and opens OnlyFans instead.

Aya had messaged her.

Aya: Can’t stop thinking about you… hope you’re having fun at work.

The photo nearly made Sara drop her phone.

(Aya in something that might’ve been pajamas or might’ve been lingerie—black silk camisole barely covering her chest.)

Sara: Oh my GOD. My shitty day just got a lot better 😍

Aya: Send me a pic of you in your bra. No reason both of us have to suffer😏

Without thinking, Sara pulls up her sweater and snaps a mirror pic—her face hidden behind her phone, the creamy lace of her bra pulled down just enough to reveal a hint of pink.

She looks at the photo on her screen and doesn’t even recognize herself.

The girl in the picture wasn’t hiding—she was playful and daring.

After a life of disinterest she had found mischief—and she was a natural.

Sara: Hope you like.

Aya: Fuck. Just what I needed.

Sara’s smile overflows with satisfaction.

The bathroom handle jiggles.

“Occupied!” she snaps.

Then sends another message…

Sara: I can’t stop thinking about last night.

Aya: Me either 😈

Aya: Just message me later if you have time.

The door handle wiggles again.

Sara rolls her eyes.

Her phone vibrates again.

Zelle Notification: $200.

From Dad.

Note: Don’t tell your mother 🤫

Sara smiles. Of course not.

She could always count on Dad.

And just like that she’s back in business.

The second she opens the door, reality blurs again.

She wasn’t just thinking about Aya—her body was reliving her.

Flashes from the night before hitting at the worst moments: the ache between her legs, the phantom feeling of lips on her chest.

She shakes her head, trying to push it away—to save it for a more opportune moment.

“She lives on the other side of the world,” she says to herself. “It was one night. She helps people explore fantasies.”

Calm down, it’s just business Sara. You are better than this.

An image of Aya with some creepy anonymous guy races through her head—jerking off to her pics and she talks dirty to him.

What was this? Jealousy?

“Nope” she muttered to herself, jaw tight.

You are not doing this Sara.

She grabs her inner remote and changes the channel.

“Sara,”

Her coworker calls down the stairs as she is making her way up with what must be 25 cartons of Non-Dairy milk in her arms.

“There’s someone up front asking for you. He’s kinda cute.”

Her stomach sinks.

Fuck.

Her Ex.

He’s standing there with his signature smug, harmless smile.

The one he wore when he wanted something.

Visiting “friends,” he said.

Party weekend.

Right.

She doesn’t even bother faking a smile.

She morphs into her best Aubrey Plaza.

“Hope you have a really great time.”

Then nods and ducks back behind the bar.

(Later that night)

The party was loud.

Red solo cups, bass pulsing through the floor, the sticky haze of beer and perfume.

The frat-sorority collab had rented out a small campus hall and packed it shoulder to shoulder with the hottest people making the worst decisions.

Sara looks different tonight.

Not just the clothes- though the black and grey plaid pleated skirt and knee-high socks didn’t go unnoticed.

Her usual oversized layers were gone, replaced by a cropped sweater that hinted at skin and power.

Her legs—long for her height, dangerously toned, and rarely on display—stole glances and dropped jaws.

Pilates-strong. Lethal.

It was like someone had ripped back a basic Hobby Lobby print from the frame and revealed a Rembrandt.

And it wasn’t just her looks.

It was the way she moved.

Confident. Playful. Slightly unhinged.

She was playing drinking games.

Laughing. Flirting.

Handling the frat boys like she’d been doing it all her life.

There was an edge to her now.

Not insecurity, not performance.

Just…control.

And then-

She saw him.

Scott.

Of course he was there.

It was like the universe had served her this moment as a dare.

Shit.

She ducks out of sight.

Her hand already in her purse, grabbing her phone—

She had to tell Aya about this.

She was online. Perfect!

Sara: Guess who’s here.

Sara: My ex. Save me 😫

Sara looks around anxiously, he clock was ticking on her party.

She finishes her drink, and steadily starts making her way towards the exit.

About halfway through the mass of people someone slams into her from behind.

She whips her head around.

Eyes flashing, then opening in surprise.

“Tessa?” she shouts above the noise.

Tessa blinks, her eyes wide and glittered, cheeks pink from whatever cocktail she’d inhaled in the last ten minutes.

She looks Sara up and down.

“Okayyy, bitch!” she says in astonishment.

“Who are you and what have you done with my demure little dorm-mate?”

Sara gives a nonchalant smile. “Trying something new.”

“Well, you look like a wet dream in Clueless cosplay. Count me in if you’re looking for a good time”

Tessa winks.

Sara lets out a breathy laugh as her eyes dart around the room to relocate Scott

“Is Peyton here tonight?” She asks.

Tessa blinks.

“Why would you ask—oh my god, wait. Did you see her?”

“Tessa, she’s your crush not mine…I don’t even know what she looks like.”

Tessa fidgets, suddenly off-balance.

“Yeah, she’s here. She’s wearing that little leather top and hot pink mini. I swear she looked me in the eye when she passed me at the keg but I couldn’t tell if it supposed to be like, ‘Heeey girl’ or ‘Move, bitch.’”

“Maybe both?” Sara shrugs.

Tessa covers her face.

“She’s too hot. And rich. And I can’t tell if she’s queer or just grew up around horses.”

What the fuck?

Sara smirks. “Just talk to her.”

“I can’t! What if I’m wrong and she’s straight and I’m just another gay girl pining after someone’s future bridesmaid?”

If she thought keeping up with sober Tessa was a challenge, this was the moon landing.

“Tessa, you’re not even gay.”

“I would be for her though…”

Then she looks Sara up and down.

“…and for you by the way. Damn Sara! I need to hide you before Peyton sees you.”

Sara blushes and hits her on the shoulder.

“Just say hi. You’re hot. You’ve got great tits. Let the ladies lead.”

Tessa gasps.

“You think I’ve got great tits?”

“EVERYONE thinks you have great tits.” she says with the encouragement of a cheerleader.

Tessa beams, then pauses.

Her eyes shifting just behind Sara and she lowers her voice.

“OMG, don’t look now, total hottie alert at 12 O’clock!”

Sara turns—too late.

Scott is walking up.

His smile was lazy, and she can feel his eyes looking right through her outfit.

“Hey,” he says.

Tessa, completely oblivious to who he is, raises her eyebrows at Sara and backs away gracefully like she’s giving Sara a gift.

Sara rolls her eyes watching her shoot off finger guns.

“Go get him,” she mouths, as she disappears into the crowd.

Sara barely registered Scott’s voice.

He’s talking. Something about how she looked. The party. Whatever.

It was all his typical bullshit.

She just turns to her phone and opens the app while he’s still talking.

Still no reply from Aya.

Still online.

Her neck and shoulders tense.

She opens their message thread and reads the last message again.

Try not to have too much fun without me ;)

She looks up.

Scott’s mouth is still moving, totally oblivious to the fact that she couldn’t care less about whatever the fuck he was saying.

She looks at her phone again hoping for a miracle.

Nothing.

She’s busy with another client.

Her breathing deepens slightly, chest rising, a flush climbing her throat.

Staring at the screen.

Motionless.

And then, out of nowhere she speaks—

“Do you want to fuck?”

Scotts jaw drops.

He Stunned. Completely unprepared.

She studies him curiously.

For the first time the little fucker was speechless.

She answers for him.

“Let’s go.”

She doesn’t look back to see if he’s following. Of course he is.

And follow he does.

Like a pathetic little puppy.

(To be continued…)

Next Episode

Subscribe now

(Previously…

Aya’s words echoed in her chest.

“I’d start slow—tracing my lips over yours, learning the shape, the softness…”

Sara: OMG, PLEASE

She didn’t even think before she typed it.)

Start the Series from the Beginning

ICTYLT Ep 1

Awake (Ep3)

AyaRoseXO: Would it be selfish of me if I left a hickey on u?

Sara’s skin tingled.

Her hand shot up to her own neck as if she could already feel it there. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second, heat blooming between her legs.

(She sent the photo—exposed neck, tilted slightly, one hand on her neck )

Sara: OMG, I want you to be selfish w/ me!!!

I feel like I’m literally melting…

She wasn’t lying. She was trembling. Her legs subconsciously rubbing together under the blanket, her nipples aching with the kind of need she’d never felt before.

This didn’t feel like porn.

It felt WAY more personal.

And she was losing herself in it completely.

AyaRoseXO: I can’t stop if this keeps going. Can I feast on you now?

I want to leave something on your breast too. I want to mark you as mine rn.

Sara’s breath hitches audibly.

The word “feast” hit her like a jolt of electricity—unexpected, and filthy in the most delicious way.

Her legs become more restless beneath the blanket, one heel digging into the mattress.

Her hand slides lower without thinking.

The ache was unbearable.

She needs relief.

Sara: OMG, mark me

Her heart is pounding now.

Not fluttering.

Not skipping.

Pounding.

She could feel her pulse everywhere—in her neck, her breasts, her thighs, even the tips of her fingers.

AyaRoseXO: You’re mine. And I’m going to mark my territory. I’m going to kiss and lick you. Your neck, your chest, your legs and your ass. They’re going to be covered in lipstick from my wet, naughty mouth. And your back? I’m marking that too!

Sara’s whole body clenches

The words made her gasp—an actual, involuntary sound.

Her free hand grabs the blanket, twisting the fabric in her fist as the other slid beneath the waistband of her panties.

She wasn’t ready to go further—yet—but her fingers take her right to the edge, teetering, trembling with the anticipation of being taken.

Sara: I know it’s forward but I can’t help it… I take your hand and put it between my legs

Her hips lift slightly, grinding against her own fingers.

The sensation wasn’t even enough, but just the act of typing those words had her unraveling.

AyaRoseXO: While we are at it, will you help me take off my bra using one hand as I wander my fingers between ur legs?

Sara: YES!!! I’m SO wet

Sara: I hate to interrupt and I’m loving the way you are taking me but I have to touch your breasts… I can’t take it anymore!!!

Sara: I hold one and run my tongue around your nipple… I can’t believe this is happening

I kiss the other breast and bite you so it hurts just enough. You are SO PERFECT 😍

As she sent the final message, her breath catches in her throat.

Her fingers brushed her clit, her body jerks.

She presses her legs together again, trying slow things down, trying to savor the tension rather than give in all at once.

It was like trying to stop a train.

AyaRoseXO: ur making me want to mess you up, Sara. Can I stick my fingers inside of you and play with your clit as you guide me?

A moan slips out before she can stop it.

She imagines it vividly—Aya’s fingers, her brown eyes staring into her own, that crooked smirk as she loses control.

The idea of being guided, of being seen—not just watched but read—made her chest ache.

Sara: I take your hand while I look you in your beautiful brown eyes, take two of your fingers in my mouth, and get them nice & wet…

She sucks on her own fingers as she types, the taste of her skin electric.

The line between fantasy and reality was blurring.

(Aya sends a video. $35 to unlock.)

Sara doesn’t hesitate.

Her thumb taps the screen.

(The video lit up—and her breath was gone.

Aya was in nothing but panties. Her breasts bare, hands gliding over herself with slow, sensual ease. The camera caught her curves, her confidence. The way she moved wasn’t performative—it was natural. Like she was putting on a show just for Sara)

Sara’s hand slip beneath the fabric of her underwear.

Her body arched slightly, her chest rising and falling faster now.

She can’t look away.

Can’t stop.

Everything about this felt dangerous.

Everything about it felt right.

AyaRoseXO: I’m so wet too rn… I can’t stop myself from touching and playing with my nipples. As you run ur tongue on me, I want to suck ur titties too. Show me what I would nibble. Mmmmm.

Sara: You are driving me FUCKING CRAZY!!!

AyaRoseXO: I’m going to pin you down and stick my tits in your mouth as I work beneath those panties of urs. Sara, it’s my first time doing naughty things with a girl and you made me this way… fck.

Sara’s breath gets stuck in her throat.

The words pin you down making her heart slam against her ribs.

She imagines it—Aya’s weight pressing her down, her soft skin against her lips, and that mix of confidence and inexperience that made everything hotter.

The image alone sending tremors through body.

AyaRoseXO: I’m loving it more and more. I want to taste your titties too. Can you show them to me? Mmmmm…

Sara hesitates for only a second—then pulls up her shirt, tugging down one side of her bra.

Her nipples hard and erect, begging for attention.

She snaps the picture before she can second-guess herself.

Sara: I’m grinding on your fingers like I can’t get enough

It feels SO fucking good

I can’t get enough

“Fuck me Aya, FUCK ME”

Her hips are now, the springs of her dorm room bed squeaking with desperation.

The tension inside her coiling tighter with every word.

The pressure, the heat, the fantasy—it was all crashing into one overwhelming reality.

AyaRoseXO: This fcking feels so good. I’ll have that nipple red. Mmmmm…

Sara arches off the bed slightly.

Her hand moving in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of her imagination.

Sara: I’m fucking yours. Fucking take this pussy.

I grab your hand, lick your fingers clean, slap your face and push your fingers back inside…

Typing it made her entire body clench.

The power of it—the surrender—it was intoxicating.

AyaRoseXO: I want us to come together… I first insert 1 finger while I’m licking at ur clit. I feel you shiver every time I make a slurping sound. As I go further, I’ll insert 2 fingers. Hold my hair tightly as I suck you hard.

Sara bites her lip so hard she whimpers.

Her legs shaking.

She can barely keep still.

Every muscle in her body tensed, hovering at the edge of something massive.

Sara: I push your head back down and grind on your fucking pretty face

She moans—quiet but raw.

She can’t stop.

Her body possessed, chasing the high Aya was guiding her toward.

(Aya sends another video for $55.)

Sara opens it.

Aya is on her bed, slow hands gliding over her breasts and down her stomach. She’s still in her panties, but the way she moves—sensual, deliberate, unhurried—makes Sara ache.

The moment Aya’s hand slipped beneath her panties onscreen, Sara nearly cried out. She was too far gone. Every part of her felt like it was unraveling.

AyaRoseXO: I want you to do the same for me Sara fucking please… I’m also close. I can’t stop myself from touching my body as I imagine you having your way with me too… Mmmmm. We are so good together. Use ur fingers and mouth and taste me better…

AyaRoseXO: Let’s do 69, I want you to feel my wet pussy on your face.

Sara’s stomach drops.

She lets out a breathless, shaky laugh—half shocked, half desperate.

Sara: You don’t have to tell me twice!

She pictures it—Aya’s thighs over her face, the taste of her, the way her moans would feel vibrating through her skin.

AyaRoseXO: Why are you so good at this Sara it’s so unfair but I’m loving it.

Sara: You bring it out of me I guess😈

You taste SO good and you are SO WET

Her fingers are soaked.

She’s barely holding it together.

AyaRoseXO: I can’t stop my fingers from coming in and out of your pussy. I feel you shiver every time my fingers come in and out. I can feel you doing muscle control. Are you almost cumming now?

Sara: Fuck yeah baby I’ve BEEN ready to cumm

Sara: I’m holding back until you tell me it’s okay

Sara: Your moans sound so fucking HOT

I’m going to destroy your fucking clit

Sara: Fuck, it’s hard to focus on you… I’m about to explode!!!

(Aya sends another video—$85 this time.)

Sara clicks without hesitation. The camera lingers on Aya’s curves, her body arching with slow, intoxicating rhythm. It’s more of the same, but somehow deeper, more unraveled. Sara watches, trembling—entranced, undone.)

She was past thought, past shame, past hesitation.

Every inch of her was on fire.

AyaRoseXO: omfg we feel the same way. I’m holding my cum until you tell me too. Mmmm. Let’s explode together and drown our faces in lust💦💦

AyaRoseXO: I can’t type much longerrrrr.. Ugghhhhh..

Sara: I can’t fucking take it anymore!!! I’m cumming baby!!! Fucking cum w/ me please!!!

I want all of you in my fucking mouth

I want to taste how much you want me baby

Her hand was a blur, her legs trembling uncontrollably. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

AyaRoseXO: fuckk I can’t take it anymore Saraaaa…Taste me up, I’m shivering. I’m cummminnnngggg…

Sara: OMG

She was cuming.

Hard.

And she couldn’t keep it quiet.

Sara: I’m cumming baby, I’m FUCKING CUMMING

AYA you are SO FUCKING good

AyaRoseXO: My mouth is ready to accept all of you.. Fck, there’s so much I don’t need water anymore..

Sara: I’m shaking so hard

I turn and kiss your mouth w/ so much tongue… maybe too much but I can’t help it

Sara: You’ve fucked me up completely

AyaRoseXO: You removed my virginity for girl relationships and I’m loving it. I can still feel you on me. Fck. You tasted so sweet.

Sara stares at the screen, trembling.

Her body still pulsing as waves of aftershocks rolling through her in smaller, softer bursts.

Her skin flushed from chest to thighs.

Blanket clinging to her damp skin.

She doesn’t move.

She can’t.

Sara: I can’t even move right now 🥰

She lies back against her pillow, one arm flung above her head, watching her bare chest rising and falling.

This wasn’t like any orgasm she’d ever had.

She felt it… all over.

Like something had been knocked loose inside her, like her body had been claimed.

Not just physically.

AyaRoseXO: We really outdid each other. I hope this won’t be the last time, Sara…

Sara: When I said that I was here to explore… fuck!

This is my first time expressing these kinds of things to another girl and OMG

I must confess, I LOVED it♥️

Thank you for being so incredible🥰

Sara: And for the incredible experience 😘

Her finger hesitate before hitting send.

She re-reads it once.

Twice.

Then—sends.

The silence after was distinct, but not empty.

It was the kind of silence that follows something important.

Like something was at stake.

AyaRoseXO: love it when you say it like that. Promise me it won’t be the last, okay?

Sara feels it in her chest.

She knew it was a transaction.

She smiles anyway.

She doesn’t want to ruin it yet.

Damn.

Sara: I promise.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

She jumps, blanket flying up over her chest.

The familiar voice of her RA’s filters through.

“Everything okay in there?”

Sara’s heart nearly stops.

Her voice coming out too high, and too fast.

“Yes! Tina. Everything’s okay—I was just, um… watching TV.”

A beat.

“Okay,” Tina says, her voice laced with amusement. “Sounds like a fun show. Just wanted to make sure everyone was still alive.”

Sara blinks at the ceiling. Then at the phone still glowing in her hand.

And then—

She burst out laughing.

Like, full-body, can’t-catch-her-breath, stomach-aching laughter.

Maybe harder than she had in her entire life.

The past 24 hours had been absolute insanity.

And somehow, she’d never felt more alive.

(To be continued…)

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Next Episode

(Previously…

The prompt blinked on her screen.

“Subscribe to unlock full content.”

Sara’s thumb hovered.

It was just curiosity. Just a little harmless exploration.

Sara exhaled, her pulse skipping. Then—tapped “Subscribe.”

Her phone vibrated.

AyaRoseXO:

Hi, there. Thank you for subscribing! I’m just getting online now. You can tell me your name—or a nickname if you want. Let’s have some fun.

Start the Series from the Beginning

ICTYLT Ep 1

OMG, Please! (Ep 2)

The message made Sara’s chest flutter.

She stares at it for a second.

Then types:

Sara: Sara :)

AyaRoseXO: Good morning Sara…can I ask, are you a boy or a girl?

Sara: I’m a girl :)

Sara: Is that okay?

AyaRoseXO: Ohh! It’s quite rare to have girls as a fan here. You are a dime in a dozen🥰

AyaRoseXO: Where did you find me and what made you sub? I wanna know…

Sara bites her lip.

Sara: Lol, I’m pretty new to this kind of stuff and have only ever been in relationships w/ boys but I have always been ridiculously curious and this seems like a fun & safe way to explore a bit!

Sara: And Reddit if you must know :)

Sara: I saw a post that you were featured in and I thought you were SUPER sexy! I wanted to see more and it led me here and I said “fuck it 😈”

AyaRoseXO: Ohhh. that’s a nice way to put it—safe exploring. I love it🤭and totally get it🥰Do you have a partner already like a bf or a gf?

Sara hesitates.

Sara: Nope, broke up w/ my bf before leaving to colleg. Too much to experience!

Not entirely true but it sounds better than.

‘No my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend while we were away at college.’

AyaRoseXO: Sara, what turns you on? Have you been in a relationship with another girl or had a fling before?

Sara: I have definitely never been in a relationship w/ a girl! I’ve never even been w/ a girl but I have thought about it- ALOT. I watch a lot of G/G porn! I did kiss a friend at a party once but I was almost too nervous to enjoy it!

AyaRoseXO: Do you have time for some naughty stuff rn? 😉

Sara’s thrills with a sudden rush of something she doesn’t quite understand.

Sara: Omg, I just got so excited…

I can’t believe I feel this way!?!?

AyaRoseXO: You’re adorable. Want to see what I’m wearing right now?

Sara swallows.

Sara: Yes, please.

A picture arrives seconds later.

(Aya is sitting on the edge of a bed, wearing a pale green crop top with tiny buttons undone just enough. Black panties. Hair pulled back tight. Her lips parting slightly, her gaze soft and confident.)

Sara’s stomach flips.

This wasn’t some staged thirst trap.

It felt real.

Like Aya taken the photo just for her.

Sara: Oh my god. You’re unreal.

AyaRoseXO: Tell me what you’re thinking. Be honest. I want to know.

Sara’s fingers spasm unconsciously.

She takes a breath.

Sara: I want to run my hands over your waist and pull your body into mine.

Another beat.

Sara: Is that too much?

AyaRoseXO: Not even close. It’s perfect. Having your hands on me feels kind of exciting. I’m already starting to melt.

Sara smiles, breathless.

For a moment, it doesn’t feel like a transaction.

It feels like a conversation.

Like a connection that’s causing her imagination to escalate quickly.

Her fingers shake slightly as she picked up her phone again.

And types—

Sara: I’ve never told a girl things like this before. It feels different.

(Aya sends another picture. Her lips forming a kiss this time. Her hand cupping her breasts. Smirking like she knows the effect she has.)

AyaRoseXO: I’m here for everything. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.

Sara lets her head fall back against the wall, dizzy with high.

She has no idea how far this will go.

But she is already in deeper than she had planned on being.

And she wants more.

Sara sits cross-legged on her bed.

Her blanket half-pulled over her lap.

Her breathing slow.

And that her excitement tingling like unfinished business.

A new message blinks across the top of the screen.

AyaRoseXO: You’re so easy to talk to, you know that?

Sara smiles.

Her face warm, her legs curled up beneath her.

The buzz in her chest is undeniable.

Electric.

She can’t remember the last time—anyone—has made her feel this seen.

Sara: I was just thinking the same thing.

Like… you’re kinda messing with my head a little.

She hits send.

Then clutches the phone tighter to her chest for a second.

Her heart performing and entire Tate McRea routine.

As if she knows what’s coming and she can’t wait.

AyaRoseXO: In a good way? Or a I-should-block-this-girl way?

Sara: Definitely the good kind.

You’re sweet and flirty but also… dangerous?

I feel like you’re gonna make me do something wild.

She stares at the last sentence after she sends it.

Had she really just said that?

A thrill dances up her spine.

AyaRoseXO: Tell me something.

What would you do to me if I was in your bed right now?

Sara’s stomach drops.

Not in a bad way.

In a fuck-I-can’t-breathe way.

She blinks at the screen.

Her thighs squeezing together instinctively.

Her hand slipping beneath the blanket—not to play, just to press.

Just to feel something anchoring her need as the world shifts on its axis.

In her moment of thought.

Another photo arrives.

(Pale green top almost entirely unbuttoned, exposing a silk black bra. Hair swept aside. A few delicate tattoos. Her eyes—sexy and bold, like Aya could see Sara through the screen.)

AyaRoseXO: Don’t be shy.

Sara’s hands tremble just slightly as she brings the phone closer.

Sara: My mouth & hands wouldn’t be able to help themselves…

I’d gently turn your head and kiss you on that perfect mouth!

Once softly before looking in your eyes to make sure that you are okay with that…

She hits an icon of a paper airplane.

Letting desires escape into the world that she’s never shared before.

AyaRoseXO: Those lips of yours taste so good. Can I be selfish? I want to see a picture of the eyes I’d be looking into….

Sara’s pulse thuds in her throat.

Her thumb frozen in place.

Aya sends another image.

(A low-angle mirror selfie.

Aya’s panties pulled slightly to the side. Her shirt all the way open. Her soft, smooth skin exposed. The tilt of her hips. Her body is immaculate.)

Currents run through Sara’s body like electricity.

Every inch of her skin on high alert.

She holds her breath, teeth digging into her lip, as she types—

Sara: I’m torn… part of me’s scared it could end up everywhere.

But I’m trusting you—

Sara: Or maybe I’m just too turned on to care.

Sara: Probably both 😉

Her cheeks burned as she snaps the photo.

Shoulder bare.

Hair loose around her face.

And her eyes—which were certainly telling no lies.

It was nothing, really—but it felt like everything.

She holds her breath and the response comes quickly.

AyaRoseXO: Thank you for trusting me, Sara. Your eyes are…WOW! You definitely got me feeling some type of way.

AyaRoseXO: I’d start slow—tracing my lips over yours, learning the shape, the softness. I kiss you again and again…deeper every time. Then I would slowly move down, not stopping until I reached your chest.

A slight moan slips out of Sara’s controlled lips.

She can’t resist anymore.

She rolls slightly onto her back.

Phone clutched in both hands above her chest.

Hips arching up from the mattress , grinding into nothing.

Her whole body is alive—buzzing, wanting, needing.

Sara: OMG, PLEASE

She types it without thought.

She sends it without regret.

(To be continued)

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Next Episode

Roommate of the Year (Ep 1)

The dorm room was quiet.

Sara lays on her side, half-covered by a blanket.

The only light coming from her phone screen which cast a soft glow across her face.

Her Reddit open.

Her feed full of girls.

A few guys sprinkled in, doing stuff to girls—but mostly girls.

Girls kissing. Girls touching. Girls bent over in dimly lit bedrooms.

She scrolls slowly, lips parting, breathing shallow.

And she sees her.

A beautiful Asian girl—AyaRoseXO.

There’s something about her brown eyes and teasing smile that makes Sara’s heart catch.

Sara’s hand slips under the blanket, sliding between her legs.

She exhales quietly.

Fuck.

She takes a slow hit from her vape and moans softly—exhaling.

The smoke drifts above her in lazy spirals.

She clicks deeper into Aya’s profile, each post taking her a little deeper.

The high creeping through her body.

Her nipples stiffen beneath her over-sized t-shirt.

Her thighs shifted.

She slides a finger over her clit—barely touching.

Enjoying the moment.

Letting it build.

Her breath catches.

She was almost concerned with how into it she was.

She turns onto her stomach, sliding her hand underneath her body.

The springs squeaking as her hips press into her mattress.

She kicks of the blanket, revealing her athletic thighs and the curve of her ass.

Her shirt clinging to her body, riding up a little higher with each movement.

No effort. No posing. Just raw, aching need.

She bit her lip and rocked her hips against her hand, chasing the pressure.

A soft moan slips out.

She reaches for her vape and takes a quick hit.

Her eyes fluttering shut.

She lets her imagination run wild.

Letting Aya come to life in her mind—pinning her down, kissing her neck, pulling her panties aside.

She was all.

Then she hears something—

Keys at the door.

Fuck.

She freezes.

The jingle stops and then starts again.

She panics—yanking at the blanket, dropping her phone.

The door creaks open. Light flooding in.

Sara rolls over, making one last tug of the blanket up as far as she could, pretending to sleep.

Her heart racing.

Her roommate stumbled in—Tessa.

Drunk and laughing, a guy in tow.

“Shhh,” she whispered loudly, already kicking off her heels.

The guy looked straight at Sara—a bare leg and the curve of her hip half-exposed.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Is that your roommate? Holy shit, she’s hot.”

Tessa shoved him. “Shut up.”

Then she pushed the door shut half heartedly as they tumbled toward her bed, giggling, loud.

Sara turned toward the wall, rolling her eyes.

Roommate of the year.

Tessa had terrible taste in men and a complete lack of boundaries.

There was a screen between them—an old-fashioned folding divider they used for exactly this and the room was dark.

But sound travels.

Whispers. Kissing.

Clothes hitting the floor.

A low moan.

Then another.

Sara froze.

The unmistakable sound of Tessa getting eaten out.

Fuck.

She could hear everything.

She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ignore the heat still burning in her body.

But the sounds weren’t stopping.

If anything—they were getting wetter.

Louder.

Tessa gasped.

The sounds coming from the other side of the screen were filthy.

Wet, rhythmic, raw.

Tessa wasn’t quiet about it.

Sara snaps.

She reaches for her phone.

Opens the profile again.

Sliding her hand back down.

Quiet. Desperate. Needing it.

Tessa’s moans, mixing with the photos, the images in her mind, and the buzz from her pen, was almost too much for her to handle.

Sara mirrors her roommate’s breathing—as she moans softly into her pillow, her fingers working, faster and faster.

She bites the inside of her wrist struggling to keep quiet, rolling her hips into her hand.

She was shocked at how hot this was.

How wet she was.

How badly she needed this.

Her panties clung to her.

She imagines the girl from Reddit kneeling below her, brown eyes full of mischief—looking up at her from between her legs.

Tessa starts to moan louder, more desperate.

Sara moans too—hushed but synced.

Tessa’s head turns slightly towards the other side of the room.

She pauses, eyes half-lidded, listening.

She hears a faint shift of blankets.

A breath? A quiet moan?

She lets her head fall back onto the pillow—too drunk to care.

Maybe too drunk to remember.

Gary is an oblivious disaster.

Sara is so close.

She can tell that Tessa is as well.

Unexpectedly—Tessa’s voice cut through the room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Silence.

“Did you just cum inside me?”

More shushing.

A pathetic, “I’m sorry… I couldn’t… I don’t know what happened.”

“Get out. Just fucking go.”

A pause.

The door opened.

Then slams shut.

Sara stares at the ceiling, panting.

Still aching.

Still unsatisfied.

She turns over, pulling her comforter to her chest.

Then whispers to no one—

“Jesus.”

Morning.

Sara is somewhere between dreams and a headache.

Rustling. Swearing.

Her eyes blink open to the blur of her dorm room.

Tessa is rifling through drawers, muttering under her breath.

“Fucking asshole…” she agonizes, clearly frustrated.

Sara’s voice is gravelly. “Tessa… what are you doing?”

Tessa doesn’t even look up.

Empty boxes scattered all over her dresser.

“I could’ve sworn I had one more Plan B…did you take it?”

Sara sits up slowly.

“Are you seriously asking if I took your emergency contraceptive?”

Tessa turns, as if noticing her for the first time.

Her voice softens.

Head tilting in faux sympathy.

“Oh right. You’re still on your heartbreak celibacy tour since you found out about Scott and Gigi.”

Sara groans, falling back into her pillow.

Tessa kept looking at her, eyebrows raised in actual concern. Then something shifted in her expression—curiosity, maybe delight.

“Wait…” she said slowly. “Did I hear you touching yourself last night?”

Sara’s whole body locked. Heat surged to her face. “Tessa—what the fuck?”

“Oh my god. I did. You were totally—” She paused, eyes wide. “Actually, it was kind of hot. I was just about to cum when fucking Gary blew it.”

“Tessa. Stop.”

“I’m only fucking professors from now on,” she muttered, rifling through one last drawer.

“TESSA.”

“You should get back out there though. Gary thought you were cute. He’s actually not bad at—”

“TESSA! Seriously. Shut. Up.”

Tessa shrugged and headed toward the door. “I get it. Religion and all that.” She stopped in the doorway, smirking. “Anyway, off to CVS. Gotta guarantee that I don’t bring Gary’s offspring into the world.”

She hesitates in the doorway.

“If it’s any consolation…” she said, turning just slightly, “you were the hottest part of the night.”

A wink.

“Have a blessed day, Sister Sara.”

And just like that—gone.

Sara lays in bed, finally alone and feeling a hurricane of emotions.

Her phone vibrates.

Sara hesitated.

Her phone buzzed again.

An alert. A new post from AyaRoseXO.

She stared at the preview image—just a hint of her collarbone, the neckline of a soft sweater pulled slightly off one shoulder. It wasn’t even that explicit, but something about the way Aya looked at the camera made Sara’s chest tighten.

She clicked.

One swipe, then another.

She didn’t even remember deciding—but suddenly, she was logged in.

The prompt blinked on her screen.

“Subscribe to unlock full content.”

Sara’s thumb hovered.

It was just curiosity. Just a little harmless exploration.

Sara exhaled, her pulse skipping. Then—tapped “Subscribe.”

Her phone vibrated.

AyaRoseXO:

Hi, there. Thank you for subscribing! I’m just getting online now. You can tell me your name—or a nickname if you want. Let’s have some fun.

(To be continued…)

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