#comealiveee

It had been years since he had seen him. Between obligations with work and finding the time, Calvin chalked it down to Later. Though, he was just as surprised. "50 years old. You're old as fuck. Happy birthday". Calvin held out the envelope once the other pulled back from the hug. The man took it and Cal sat back, listening to the group chatter.

And then, the time bleeds. Almost quietly, he excuses himself to go use the bathroom. The layout of the house feels familiar, like no time had passed since he had been back. However, on the way out, he halts when he hears the faint sniffling. His eyes go towards the markings of the door with her name on it.

plot: here

Fletcher let himself into her apartment without much ceremony, the familiar ease between them making the entry feel almost routine. He shut the door behind him with a soft click and wandered further inside, his steps unhurried as he adjusted the back of his sweatshirt at the nape of his neck, tugging it slightly as if it had been sticking to him after the day he'd had. The air inside was warmer than outside, and it only made the lingering tension in his shoulders more noticeable. With a small exhale, he grabbed the hem of his green sweater and pulled it up over his head in one smooth motion, the fabric bunching briefly before he tossed it carelessly somewhere across the room without bothering to check where it landed. Rolling his shoulders, he loosened his neck as if trying to shake off the weight of everything that had built up during the day. “Yo, what room are you in?” he called out, his voice carrying easily through the apartment, half expecting an answer from down the hallway. He paused, listening for movement before adding more casually, “I have a lot of tension I need to get rid of,” his tone more blunt than serious.

Angelica was a woman who knew everything that was going on in her club. It was her job to. On the one hand, it was to keep her clients safe and content, but she also made it a mission to keep her girls safe. Sex work was a tough and dangerous job; she knew that better than most, and while others were fine with changing stock regularly, she preferred to keep her girls happy and safe, knowing skill was something that was acquired, and she put a lot of time and dedication into training her girls well. And her clients loved to pay the premium prices.

She shouldn't have been surprised that one of her competitors leaked info to a newspaper in an attempt to start a smear campaign. She was practically running the most exclusive brothel in the country and many wanted to earn the kind of cash she made by selling pussy.

What she hadn't expected was that the girl who showed up on her doorstep, trying to pretend to not be here for a news story but to start working for her. She was gorgeous, just like any of the girls who professionally spread her legs here, but there was something different about her. An innocence that she was drawn to because she wanted to break her. And her wife had been so adamant about adding someone to the dynamic, and for the first time, Angelica felt seriously tempted.

"Well, baby girl. Fucking professionally is a hard job. How about you show me your body first? I have to check if that pussy is ready for so much dick", she said, casually leaning against the large oaken desk in her office while her eyes wandered over the dressed girl.