The slight twang of a southern accent made her pet names all the more flustering, grinning at you with prominent dimples and a curl of hair wrapped around her finger as she played with it. 

“Oh, please you’re flattering me,” You grow hot, getting the same queasy butterfly feeling you did when someone hit on you in a bar, two drinks deep. “The other side of town, not too far. Have you heard of--”

“Charlotte, what’s taking so long?” 

A blonde appears from behind a house one door down, carrying a drink in her hands. From the spotty pink on her cheeks, you could tell she was buzzed despite it only being midday. “Oh? What’s going on?”

“This is the new resident,” Charlotte calls back, moving to wrap an arm around your shoulder; she looked at the other woman knowingly, conveying something you really couldn’t decipher other than the naughty grin on her face. “Here to entertain us at the cookout.”

“Right,” She says, as if she’s forgotten about the large moving van across the street that’s been parked there for days. “Well, come on, we’re about to play Bunco.” 

Her eyes drifted back and forth between you and the woman holding you friendlier than a stranger normally would. Is this what they called southern hospitality? You really weren’t THAT far south.

The blonde walked away, lingering her eyes on you with what you interpreted as judgement. 

Taking the tray out of your hands, Charlotte’s pedicured french tips brushed over your fingers. 

“You’re in the right place; but really, I can’t believe we’ve been so rude to not welcome you to the neighborhood yet! Heather and I will have to come over sometime, see your place.”

Charlotte urges you forward with a blindingly attentive smile on her face, dark hair and tall figure meshing against your own. She begins setting plans already on when she can come over, asking what your schedule is like, if you live alone. You feel overwhelmed with how gracious she’s being, taking such a kind interest in you. Heather however, seems to observe from afar. She sips on her wine or an overflowing margarita until the night is over, eyes flickering back and forth between you and Charlotte. When you talk, they unsettlingly rest upon you. 

--------------

“It must be lonely, being inside this big house all alone?” 

Heather asks, her deep voice giving a stark contrast to Charlotte humming in your kitchen. 

“Well, not since you both are practically my roommates at this point.” You sarcastically jab.

Before you knew it, you were being held hostage in your own house, hosting girl’s nights and “book clubs” which were really just an excuse to drink and eat cheese, Heather and Charlotte always making these plans before you had time to register them. You made the fatal mistake of telling Charlotte every moment of free time you had, which meant you were often stuck with them putting on movies and going through your bedroom’s things in search of one item or another. At one point, you even found Heather standing in your living room, ‘looking for a bottle opener,’ she said. She claimed the door was unlocked and assumed you wouldn’t mind, but you had your doubts; even in a picturesque neighborhood like this, you didn’t feel safe enough to leave your house unattended and unlocked. 

“Hm.” Heather tutted, watching you on the couch as you tried to avoid her piercing gaze. She never showed any shame when she was caught staring; you were always the first to look away. “Would you really tell your roommates your darkest fantasies, though?” 

You could hear the triumphant smirk in her voice. Looking up from your phone, you frowned at the fingers playing innocently on your knee, drawing small patterns.

“I told you not to bring that up again.” 

She moved in closer as if to challenge you, trying to capture your eyes as you looked around the room-- at anything but her. 

“Oh you’re so sensitive; can’t friends joke with each other?” Her hand slid higher, massaging the inside of your thigh, feeling the rough seams of your jeans. 

“I was drunk-- I shouldn’t have told Charlotte, I knew she’d tell you!” 

You try to move away, uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

“Can you blame her? It’s not everyday you find out that a cute, unassuming thing like you likes to be tied up, getting off on the dirty words whispered in your ear.”

You listen for Charlotte, hearing her turn the sink on as she hums to herself, quieter. 

Heather moves in, her breath tickling the shell of your ear. She whispers long and slow, no longer paying attention to the television. 

“I bet if it was one of us, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? How long would it take you to break, I wonder. For you to fall on your knees and beg.”

“You-- can’t be saying stuff like that, you’re married;” You shift deeper into the couch, Heather’s face only inches away as you can smell her Valentino perfume.

“Oh please-- as if Scott cares about anything I do, nonetheless with either of you.” She scoffs, as if the idea is ridiculous. “Don’t worry though, I won’t tell about your little kinks; those secrets are better kept with us.”

You purse your lips, letting the silence and the thickness of the tension sit like molasses as a weather announcer drones on in the background. 

“Don’t move.” Heather murmurs, caressing your cheek with the back of her hand, getting you to turn your face towards her without much effort.

You see a wave of blonde before a pair of glossed lips are upon yours, her hand trapping you against the couch. Only a chaste kiss went by before she dared to go full throttle, her wine-soaked tongue pushing against yours, unabashedly letting wet pops and sucks fill the room as she bit your bottom lip, hungrily.

You couldn’t deny it felt good, to let the thickness that had been knowingly building up between you pop; from her sultry gazes to how Charlotte pushed you two together, knowing Heather was often more unfriendly than not.

“Hey!” Charlotte's high voice rang out, a spatula splattered with cake batter still in her hands. “You two, what the hell?” 

A sharp panic spiked its way in your heart, pulling back from Heather’s wet lips as her gloss stuck to the side of your mouth. 

“Charlotte-- this--”

But Charlotte wasn’t talking to you.

“How many times have I told you I called dibs first, that you weren’t allowed to put your hands ANYWHERE until I made the first move?” She looked upset, but with more of a pout than anything. “I had a whole plan! I swear, Heather--”

“I’m sorry baby,” Heather laughed a little, wiping some of your saliva from her lip. “If it makes you feel better, we haven’t fucked yet.” 

“Close enough!” 

“Aw, you know we wouldn’t do anything without you-- just couldn’t help myself..” 

Heather pulled at your bottom lip with her thumb, biting her own as she saw how alert and guilty you looked. 

“This is some bullshit,” Before you knew it Charlotte was by your side, looking darker, somehow more predatory as Heather had. “I guess, sloppy seconds is better than nothing.” She murmured, a firm hand grabbing under your chin. She was far rougher than you had imagined, pulling you toward her as she kissed you hard, Heather’s hand still resting against your thigh. 

You push back, feeling a strange unease at the shift in the room, the way it had gotten silent save for the heavy breaths and short, vocal sighs. 

“You can’t-- ‘we’ can’t do this, I just-- this isn’t right.” 

“Shh, stop talking so much,” Charlotte teased, watching your frantic eyes. “No one will be none the wiser, as long as you keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“But--” 

“Don’t fight it; you need to be taken care of, clearly. You can barely cook, you’re all alone here, have no way to satisfy yourself…Take it from those who’ve been doing this for years. ” Heather takes a quick sip of her wine, giving an amused grin at how desperately incompetent she made you out to be. 

“Don’t act like you’re all innocent, either baby. If you didn’t want us to do things to you,” Charlotte kissed you again, staying close. “Why’d you tell us about those little fantasies stuck in your head, how much you wanted to be taken advantage of, how you wished someone would just pin you down and--”

“I-- I was drunk! I didn’t even know what I was saying.” You try to form an excuse, hardly finding the space to speak as the two women ignored your poor protest.

“Oh come on, and that excuses the way you’ve stared at my tits every night?” Heather laughed. 

“Or how I’ve caught you touching yourself, saying our names?” Charlotte asked, genuine questioning in her voice as if you could come up with an answer besides stunned silence. “You really need to replace those bald spots in your blinds.” 

You had no words-- just how much of you did they know about, things that you hadn’t told? You were caught in the web of two predatory creatures-- housewives who drank themselves and gossiped all day-- and who apparently, were desperate for some new fun in their boring little cul-de-sac.

“That was.. Just one time..” 

“One time’s enough. But you really are some kind of pervert, getting off to two married women you barely know.”

Charlotte and Heather looked at each other, laughing as you sat in an uncomfortable mess of guilt, lust, and concern.  

------------------

And so he said “What, going to another one of your girl’s nights? I don’t know what’s so interesting about watching The Bachelor every night.” 

Heather and Charlotte talk absentmindedly, resting casually on your bed in their underwear. 

A pair of warm fingers were pushed deep inside you, pulsating and gliding rhythmically. In and out, so gentle and yet it clouded your mind with ecstasy. Each time you tried to close your legs from pleasure or fear, your thighs were pushed open with a slight smack to your ass, just enough to make you jolt. 

“He’s so oblivious, sometimes I wonder if we could fuck in your living room and if anyone would notice.” The woman behind you agrees, taking a break from placing a dark hickey on your shoulder.

 her fingers swirled and pinched at your nipples, playing as she felt your back arch. The sound of the handcuffs straining behind your back made her grin. 

“Getting close, sweet pea?” Charlotte muses, watching how you bite hard into the gag. 

“Use your words now, don’t make me have to get out the vibrator.” Heather demands.

You twitch at the thought, the memories of past overstimulation making you let out a small whimper. 

You mumble through the gag, feeling the gentle stroke of Heather’s almond-shaped nails down your navel, giving your skin the slightest tickle. 

“Look at that face,” Heather patronized with a short chuckle, your head falling onto her shoulder as you closed your eyes, riding Charlotte’s fingers like there was no tomorrow. “Completely fucked out, I bet you could yell ‘fire’ and the poor thing wouldn’t notice; you spoil them too much.”

“And you don’t? Miss, ‘why don’t we get some new lingerie’, or ‘let's set a new orgasm record’. Geeze.”

Heather looked away at that, not willing to admit the truth. 

Your crescendo of moans rose to fill the tense, hot silence, tongue wettening the gag as you began to squirm, toes curling as you tried to curl inward. 

“Fuck..” Charlotte let out, a curse you hadn’t heard her release before; she was, usually, so verbally mild-mannered with her country intonation. Her fingers slammed faster inside of you, warm body rising as she came up to kiss the housewife behind you, unashamed at her desperation. 

They were unnecessarily loud, hungry in their kisses and gropes of your body as you writhed between them. 

“Come for me, sweetheart.” Heather mumbled in your ear between tongued kisses.  

Charlotte knocked your body back against Heather’s, letting the slick squelches of her thrusts into you fall off beat with the sound of her lips against the other woman’s.