𝒞𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑅𝒴

leah yearned for this moment. on her commute to work that morning she’d thought about it, during her sad excuse of a break she’d thought about it - she’d practically been counting down the seconds until her twelve hours of hell were up. don’t get her wrong, she loved her job; but working nonstop with little to no time to actually breathe took a toll on her body. a night of self care was on the cards that evening - and she certainly went through with her promise. candles lit, music on, wine on deck - she was in heaven. she’d spend the night there if she could. a sigh of satisfaction parted her rose-tinted lips before she sunk deeper into the sea of cloud-like bubbles. tired eyes fluttered shut as she marveled in thought - only to open to the sight of them in the doorway. “ever heard of privacy?” the soft-spoken words lazily left her tongue with a small giggle. “either you drop your pants and get in or kindly escort yourself elsewhere and leave me in peace.”

she never expected the truth to surface. let alone like this - in the middle of a party - one room away from the blaring sound of hot 100s and sweaty bodies pouring cheap liquor into solo cups. one room away from ben. she swallows the lump in her throat and slowly exhales. she’s not sure what to do - where to go from here. she’s unhappy in her relationship. just recently she found out some things - horrible things - that she was going to confront him about; how he only sees her as a trophy - a piece of arm candy, how he brags that he cuffed the college whore. he never loved her. she isn’t sure whether its the liquor, the frustration, the eagerness to act on impulse, or her own feelings getting to her; but she’s stepping towards rogue. no words spoken, only a small fist reaching for his shirt, pulling him close before the taste of his lips linger on hers.

she’s mid-slice when he snatches the apron from the countertop, an intrigued eyebrow raising once her gaze shifts to eye him up. she can’t seem to fight the fit of laughter bubbling in the back of her throat, but she suppresses it with a generous sip of red wine instead. there’s a small pause, just enough for her to collect herself. “is that right, gordon ramsay?” she sets the knife down and shifts around the kitchen island to approach him. “while the sentiment is nice, i’m not sure she’ll be wowed by the apron. i - on the other hand - am very pleased.” she shifts onto her tip toes and places a kiss on his lips. “now what’s on the menu tonight, hm?”

“is the prada not enough for you, my darling? she hates to admit it, but tatiana’s like putty in the femme’s hands. just one glance, one soft gust of eagerness in her dulcet tone sends her body into a frenzy. who would have thought the stone cold hollywood starlet could possess such a tenderness towards something - someone - other than her camera. manicured fingers ghost along the exposed skin of sonia’s leg, tracing delicately up towards her thigh where she then lets her hand rest. palm flat, fingers curling to lightly grip her supple flesh. “what designer are you lusting over this week? mcqueen? balmain? dior?” a hum of satisfaction parts cherry-stained lips as she leans back. “i’ll think about it - but if, and only if, you behave. now give me a kiss.”

the pad of her fingertip glides around the rim of her class in circular motions as she leans further back into the chair. there’s a smug grin on her face as the hushed words fall from the petite blonde. she wasn’t expecting her to be so abrupt - especially in the company of others. she’s glancing around, eyeing other guests in passing as she tips her head towards her. athena isn’t making an effort to be discrete - in fact, she prefers the wandering eyes on her. voyeurs. “is that right?” the hand on her glass, now kissed with condensation, slowly trails up the younger girl’s arm. “what do you want me to do about it?”

despite her experience, katie was still considered an amateur amongst the eyes of her peers - usually one of the first to grace the stage to make room for the ‘in demand’ vixens later on. so it came as quite a shock to her when she found out she’d been requested in a private room. she’d never done it before, it was new territory, and she wanted to get it right. too focused on her movements and unwavering nerves, the blonde hadn’t realized her lack of acknowledgement towards the client. not even a glance. for all she knew it could’ve been some pervert. the first song faded, but her body kept moving, slower this time in anticipation for the next one. “- is this okay?” she wasn’t confident enough to murmur the sultry script - ‘you like what you see’; and her voice was soft - timid. she didn’t want to disappoint and in that moment she felt like she was a waste of time and money. reassurance was something she needed.

“i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t, but let’s face it - everyone sends nudes. it’s 2020. why is there still a stigma around naked bodies? if anything they should be glorified. besides, if you didn’t look hot i wouldn’t have said shit.” she sets her phone done for a minute to tidy her work station. it’s partially a way to leave the girl on edge. a good fifteen or twenty minutes pass before she’s reaching for her phone again. “so -” this conversation is far from over. “who were you sending those photos to exactly?” she sends. “because i personally think you should kick them to the curb.” again. “let me be the one to praise your body instead, god knows i’ll appreciate it more than any of those dickheads.” at this point she didn’t give a fuck. “i could tell you how much better that set would look on my bedroom floor, i could tell you how much i want to kiss every inch of your skin... but unlike them i’d actually pull through.”