Are you losing too much blood

His own special photos?

Oh, she was desperate to see.

Time passed, and she hesitated on sending any messages about his return. It would eventually turn into harassment and she wasn’t sure just how much of that he was willing to take. So she waited, patiently, curious about what he would show.

He would return, though. She was sure of it.

Three weeks later, Patrick returned to teaching his photography class. It amused him to see how happy they were to see him. Nobody likes substitutes. There could never be a substitute for Patrick Bateman. The numbers had decreased significantly. Only about half the class remained, but only one student mattered. 

Cheeky. She grinned. Oh, I’m not a whore. I save the special photos for the people who really deserve them. ;) She didn’t want him thinking she was easy, even though she had given her… Well, photos of herself really, really quickly…

Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get to see some of my *special photos*

He ignored his phone after that, his mind conjuring different approaches he could take to the situation. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the pretence of their stupid little flirtation. Things needed to progress - and quickly. They’d been distractions - and one just walked in the door. Sean’s acquaintance for New York was about to regret her trip. 

Ir The length in reply, at first, bothered her. And, later, she’d be bothered by the fact that it bothered her. And also how fucking quickly she replied. Dasies. Roses are too traditional. She couldn’t leave it at that, though, could she? Are you coming back to lecturers soon? Temporary replacement is shit. Not the same.

She missed him. It was almost sweet. Maybe he should do her a favour and find her flat, barge in and staple her to the wall with a nail gun. He could stuff her mouth with daises and then protest that she should have chosen the flower with the thorns. Temporary - everything was a replacement until the next thing came along. She was wrong - everybody and everything is painfully the same. 

It came as only a slight surprise that he wasn’t there the next lesson. Part of her had expected it. Maybe he was only in it for sex, or maybe he regretted it all and had gone. Or maybe there actually was a genuine issue. She missed him. She did, it was pointless to lie or pretend about it. She missed staring at him, and taking him in, and… His voice. But even under that, she was concerned. He’d sounded okay over the phone. It took a long time for her to get the courage to send a message through. It was one thing to send a sexual, solicited message. It was another entirely to send something of a… Personal nature. Hey… I was just wondering if everything was okay?

Needless to say he was a bit too preoccupied to answer her text. He had a fun conversation with the woman who had become obsessed with his brother. He revealed that it was Sean who was the real loser of the family - evident in this most recent drug cock up. He was able to easily persuade her that the crack scene in London was much more sufficient. Maybe a fresh start was what she needed. She could stay at his apartment until she found somewhere appropriate to stay - or her untimely death. 

It wasn’t until after her comedown, and a couple of mumbled words, did she realise that he had hung up.

Bastard, she grinned, pushing her phone away and curling herself into sleep.

The next day he got a call from a woman ranting and raving about Sean. It turned out he’d ended up in the hospital or something. He didn’t know or care who the fuck this chick was but when she mentioned she’d do anything for him to be there, he boarded a plane. Turns out Sean had played the dead parents card and spoke about a brother who was loving and loyal - just couldn’t leave England for financial reasons. He took it as a sign to go back to the US and remember what he’d been missing; free of charge thanks to some rich bitch Sean was fucking. Wasn’t he gay?

‘Maybe…’

A date would be nice. She could imagine him on a date, in a fancier suit (if such things existed) sitting opposite. Relaxed…

It lasted until he hinted he was touching himself.

Was he actually?

She didn’t care.

With that new, sudden image in her head, she came. Hard, fast, cunt gripping her fingers as they sought proper, true pleasure.

Of course she wanted a date. They all did.

‘It’s your damn fault…’ She managed to get out, twisting in her bed. His voice was so captivating, it carried words so fucking delightfully…

'You caused this. ’

“Did I? You took that picture, you texted me...what’s next, a date?” he chuckled.

He knew she hadn’t called him for sex. She was still too shy and innocent to really act on any of her apparent fantasies. Maybe she wanted a boyfriend - or just someone who would notice her. Maybe it didn’t matter cause it wouldn’t last for long. 

The thought triggered something in his mind and her naked picture appeared in his head. He was stabbing her in the cunt over and over. She must have been dead, yet somehow he could still hear her moaning and begging for more.

Was that it? Was he going to leave her to fuck herself into some sleepy state? She wasn’t ready for him to hang up, but about the only response she could muster was a long, deep moan.

God, he probably got off on total control. More than she could imagine, but she could definitely imagine hiding under his desk, pretending to skip lesson, and just taking him when he sat down, sucking his hard, thick cock…

Another moan, harder, more desperate.

So easy to please. Too easy. 

“You’re not being a very good conversationalist right now” he pouted into the phone. Although of course her attention was fully on him and nothing else. “Sounds like you’re doing fine without my interference.” 

Why the collar? Why was he asking such important questions whilst her fingers were deep inside of herself…

‘You… Wanted us to show what we wanted to give you. I don’t… ’ Pause. Moan. ’… Want to be a pet, just want you to take control… Think you’d be good in control.’ She moaned at him.

Patrick laughed at that, not unkindly. She was so adorable. It was kind of sickening. At least she knew a man with control when she saw one - and currently heard one. 

She was just blindly obeying orders now. Not that they were orders, just instructions. She’d never masturbated over the phone to anybody before. And whilst there was a flicker of hesitation, her hand moved down her body and between her legs.

The following moan said it all.

Her moans were like sweet music to his ears. He remembered the details of the naked photo of her - the collar and leash, the positioning of the newspaper. She knew how to be a tease, yet she hesitated in letting herself experience real pleasure. 

‘Yeah. I would. I would.’

Yeah, so out of her depth. But she felt brave, and… How bad could this be? Really? People her age had fucking kids already, for God’s sake.

Oh, dear God. Hearing him actually say the words… They rolled off his voice. All of them. She rolled over, stretching out.

‘I wont be able to sleep if I think about that. Are you big? I bet you’re big. ’

She was so out of her depth, here.

’ I bet you’re so big.’

Patrick grinned into the phone. She was suddenly so eager and curious. He knew his words had had the desired effect. 

It took a few rings before she answered. It came as a shock that he’d even call her, especially this late.

‘Um. Hey?’

He cleared his throat, “Are you...ok?” Keeping his voice quiet, he wondered if he’d made a mistake by panicking and hitting the button. Why was it even a big deal to him?