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…
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…)
Aubrey Plaza 👏
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