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  • Triad Ch. 03: Surrender

Triad Ch. 03: Surrender

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Triad Ch. 3: Surrender

"Allie?" Milo said from the down the dark hallway.

I was frozen. I couldn't leave. They drove me here. My car was still at the restaurant, miles away.

He came into the kitchen and stopped. "Allie, everything alright?"

"Who's house is this?" I asked.

"A friend's."

"I thought this was your house."

"No of course not. What makes you think that?"

I paced through my memory. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing that indicated it was there house. Julia insisted that I would love it, but she never said anything about it being their house.

"I...just assumed, but then I saw all the photos and you weren't in any of them, and..."

"Honey," he came toward me then, wrapping me in his big arms. "I never meant to mislead you. I'm so sorry, you must have been terrified." He chuckled softly. "We rarely take partners to our own home."

Now I remembered Julia saying something like that. I sighed and melted into him.

"I'm so sorry we scared you."

He stroked my hair, the soft repetition soothing my racing heart. After a few moments, he lifted my chin up and kissed me.

"Come on, let's go back to bed," he said and I followed him back to the bedroom.

**

The next morning, we all showered in the massive glass enclosure in the center of the bathroom, taking turns soaping each other up. I was facing the windows overlooking the ocean, now a bright blue in the morning sunshine bouncing off the water. My hands were steadied against the glass. Julia was standing behind me, massaging my shoulders, my waist, my back, drawing large ovals down from my shoulders, outside my shoulder blades, dipping together at my waist, them coming up, pressing on either side of my spine. Over and over she made the slow, heavy circuits across my skin, pressing into my weak muscles until they relented.

I was a little horny, a little sleepy. I didn't even notice when Milo took over. The same movements, but his wide, strong hands were able to press deeper into my skin, softening the muscles until I was puddy, my body a liquid flowing through his hands. I nearly did fall asleep in the shower. I slumped forward and Milo's arms came around my waist to hold me steady, his head coming to rest in the crook of my neck.

"Don't worry, baby," he whispered, "I've got you."

**

All Saturday, I was in a daze. It was like I had just had sex for the first time and time moved slowly I saw everything as if for the very first time. I had never done anything like that before and I wasn't sure if I would again; I wasn't sure if I wanted to again. But the satisfaction of memory left me deeply content. I lingered there, at that moment in the shower with Milo's hands around my waist feeling warm and protected and sure in all the decisions I had made in my life leading up this experience.

I had never been with a man as old as Milo before, he wasn't even that old. I was the young one. I was the baby playing adult games. All the men my age suddenly looked much younger, innocent and reckless to me now.

I laid down on the couch that evening, browsing for something to watch, as if someone in this box could affirm this pleasant, fuzzy feeling inside my brain, that I was not the only person on Earth, fiction or not, feeling this way at this moment.

I landed on some romantic film and watched for a while as the two leads drew closer to each other. I started to rub my breast gently, pulling on my nipple through the thin cotton of my shirt. They grew and soon I could see their tiny mounds through the fabric.

I wondered, why I hadn't considered women before? Julia at least was so soft, all curves and femininity. She was beautiful.

There was a loud banging.

"Can you hulp me?," someone mumbled through my front door.

I looked through the peephole. There was a young man standing there, swaying a bit in front of my fish lens, periodically knocking on the door with his fist, and looking up and down the hallway. He didn't particularly look like there was an emergency.

"Hey, hulp me pleez, I'm locked in—ou', I mean," he said again.

"What do you want?" I called through the door.

He put both hands on my door, bracing himself. "Oh thank God! I'm tryin' to get hum. I live here, but I lust my keys. I can't find 'em. Can you hulp me?"

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"Here! Nah here. I means," he pointed to the end of the hallway, then changed his mind and pointed to the other end of the hallway. "Down there. I luv dun there."

"Just call the property manager," I said.

"I jus moved in, I don't know his nummer. D'you have it? Can you cull him please?"

What a fucking drunk. I did not want to deal with this tonight. He was stumbling over himself as he spoke. If I didn't help him I may wake up tomorrow morning to his half-dead body on my doorstep.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Ben-ja-min" He enunciated each syllable carefully through his slur, "Ben-ja-min Pal-mer! I'm'n 16. See?" he pointed again toward one end of the hallway. "Jus' down there, tha's where I live."

"Show me your ID."

He fumbled through his wallet for a few moments, side-stepping once or twice and then pulled out a card and held it flush against the peephole, making my sight go black.

"Not so close," I said. I smiled to myself, though.

"Oh, sorry," he pulled it away slowly and I could see enough of it to see it was in fact him and it was a Michigan ID card. Another Midwesterner. I sighed and unlocked my door, opening it just a bit.

"You should really save his number into your phone."

He nodded continuously for a while, a little bobblehead.

"I'm going to give you the property manager's phone number," I said in slow instructions. "Take your phone out, get ready."

He smiled at me, "Thank you so so mush!" and obediently typed in the numbers as I said them. He had to close one eye to focus on the screen, swaying a bit. I noticed his ears were curiously large. I wasn't sure if they looked good on him.

He called the manager and stumbled through an explanation and then after a few silent moments he pulled the phone away from his ear in shock. "He hanged—hunged—hanged up on me! Tha' was nat nice."

"What did he say?" I sighed.

"He said I shud stop fuckin' with him and he hanged up on me."

I rolled my eyes, although I thought he was a bit cute in this pathetic state. I did feel bad for silently making fun of him, though. "I'll do it." I called the manager and explained. He was incredibly frustrated to be getting up so late but reluctantly agreed.

"He'll be here in 20 minutes," I told Benjamin.

He put his hands together in front of his mouth and bowed to me. "Think you. Think you. Think you, strunger," he said. "Wait, wha' is your name?"

"Allie," I said.

He bowed again, "Think you, Allie. You're th'super best."

I smiled at his drunk ass. "Of course."

Then he grimaced, "Ugh, it's kinda cold ou'here, do you think...maybe I cud warm up a bit and wait insi' your place?"

"No," I said. He was not going to throw up in my living room.

"Ugh, right. M'sorry. You don' know me, I get it." He walked over to the railing and sat himself down against it. "Would you wait wi'me?" he asked, a little whine, a little beg in his voice.

I was not going to commit to that. Instead I said, "Where are your friends?"

He put up his index finger. "I have one frund. I muved here this month. I have lots, lots of friends in Mich'gan 'cause I'm a friendly guy, but I have one frind here."

"And where is your one friend?"

He sighed, "He wen' home a'ready. I wolked back home by myself, and thun, I realized I had drunken—drank—I'm drunk. I drank too much."

"I see that," nodding, I couldn't help but smile at him again.

If it wasn't for the bloodshot in his eyes and the droop of his jaw, he would be a handsome, young man. Tall, medium build, blond hair brushed over to one side and bright, blue eyes that glowed in the light from my apartment behind me.

"You have nice eyes," I told him. Why did I say that?

He smiled at me really big this time, like I had given him a present. "Thank you so mush. You have nice eyes, too."

I laughed.

"Where'r you from?" he asked.

"Iowa."

"That's awe-some. I'm from Mich'gan."

"I know."

His eyes went wide, "How'd you know?"

"I saw it on your driver's license."

He rolled his eyes, beeming, "Oooh." He looked down at his lap for a moment, then back at me. "Thank you for hulping me."

"Midwesterners got to stick together I guess."

He smiled, pointing his fingers at me like a gun and tried to wink, I think, but instead blinked dramatically. "M'sorry. M'drunk," he said.

I laughed again, "I know." I was entertained, though. "Wait here just a minute," I said. He pouted, but said nothing.

I came back a minute later with a plastic cup of water. He smiled and chugged it. "You're so nice, Allie," he said.

"Hey, you remembered my name."

He nodded, "I member lots o'names."

I waited with him for a while. He tried to tell me some stories, but they were difficult to understand under his slurs. I thought it was entertaining just watching him try to communicate. Soon enough I could hear the property manager calling down the hallway.

"Hey kid! Are you Benjamin?"

Benjamin climbed to his feet, walking down the hall, "Yes! That's me! 16!"

I peeked out my door and watched the manager let him into his apartment. As I was closing my door, I heard him say, "You know we're going to charge you 50 bucks for this."

Ouch, I thought.

**

Work had really picked up in the Spring months, the Mayor's calendar packed with appearances and fundraisers, on top of his regular responsibilities. I was busy typing away on another private high school graduation speech when my phone buzzed on my desk. I pulled it out.

M: You have no idea how badly I want you.

My face got hot. I looked around the room. It was mostly empty because of lunch.

A: Oh?

M: Yes. I've been thinking about you all day.

A: I've been thinking about you, too.

M: Good girl.

He flipped a switch in me and I felt a surge of energy, like I was powerful, sexy. I'd never really thought of myself in this way and I liked how Milo could draw that out.

A: I like being your good girl.

M: You want to please me?

A: Yes.

"Allie," a newspaper was dropped on my desk, startling me. I looked up to see my supervisor, Janice, the Mayor's exec. "A college student drowned at Arroyo Burro Beach this weekend. The mayor is going to make a statement at 4pm. I need a draft in thirty minutes."

"Jesus," I sighed, pulling the paper into my lap.

"Page 2, bottom fold," she said and walked away.

A: Just got an assignment. Will chat later.

M: Hmm... I should probably punish you for teasing me.

By early afternoon I was on fire. It was uncomfortable to be so turned on while writing something like this. I did feel bad, but my toes curled in my flats regardless. Finally, once submitted, I pulled my phone back out. I had a few missed messages.

M: Maybe I don't want you to be my good girl. Maybe I want you to be naughty.

M: When can I have you?

A: Finally finished. On break.

M: Want to play a game?

A: Maybe.

A: Yes.

M: Go to the restroom.

I stood up and walked down the hallway to the restroom. I peeked under the stalls. I was alone.

A: I'm here.

M: Take off your blouse.

My heart started to beat faster. I moved into a stall, untucked my blouse, unbuttoned it and pulled it off, hanging it on the hook.

A: Done.

M: Now I want to you play with your nipples. Make them hard.

I did as he asked, moving my hands up to my breasts, squeezing them, feeling them. I arched my back and moved my neck from side to side, stretching out a bit, trying to relax in the semi-public space.

M: When you're ready, touch your pussy, outside your panties. Pretend it's me, touching you.

I had never played with myself in public restroom before, but new as soon as I touched myself, I would already be wet. The combination of the waiting and the newness had me soaked.

A: I'm getting so wet.

M: Naughty girl. I wish I was there.

M: I want you to push your panties aside. Don't touch your clit, yet, or you'll be in big trouble.

A: Yes.

M: Say yes, sir.

God, it was getting so warm in that stall. I pulled my panties to the side and touched the soft skin on the side of my pussy, it bowed easily under my finger. Then I moved toward my slit, trailing my finger along the crevice, my wetness flowed freely over my finger and I rubbed it into my skin.

A: Yes, sir.

M: Good girl. Now put a finger inside your pussy. Move it in and out.

I leaned against the stall wall, working my legs wider to get better access. My finger slipped in with absolute ease. My pussy was a soaking wet fire now. I started to breathe heavy in the small space, hearing the faint, wet sound as it slipped in and out of my sopping femininity.

I buried deep inside and pressed my finger upward, against my top wall, toward my belly. A bolt of pleasure shot through me all the way to my scalp and it felt like my hair was tingling.

I gasped out loud and I did it again. Again the bolt of electricity shot up through my spine and gathered at my scalp, tickling my skin. I was hitting my G-spot and each time it made my my whole body shudder. I was pressing faster now, closer together. I knew I could cum at any moment if I just let myself go.

A: I'm getting close.

M: Don't cum without permission.

My heart sunk but my chest tightened at the command, drawing another shuddering breath. I kept my steady work on my center, but slowed to a controlled beat, concentrating on the sensations sweeping through me. I imagined Milo in that stall with me, pressing me against the wall, one hand in my pussy and the other on my neck, holding me steady. I could feel a slight sheen of sweat on my temple. God, it felt too good. I had to remind myself to check my phone.

M: Rub your clit, until you're so close you can barely stand it.

His commands were almost as exciting as the sensations I was drawing from my body. I withdrew my finger and brushed it against my clit. This time I did whine out loud, immediately slapping my hand to my mouth. I hoped I was still alone.

A: God, it feels so good. I want to cum.

M: Not yet baby girl. I want you to play with your asshole.

A: Milo..

M: Too far? Just try.

My heart was racing. I've never played like that before, but I was curious. Somehow he knew this part of me so well. I put my hand down the back of my trousers and leaned forward slightly, spreading my legs wider. I felt the pucker of skin, a buzz going up my belly. I pressed gently against the knots, kneading them until they slowly relaxed. I kept my phone in my right hand.

M: Tell me what you're doing.

A: I'm touching my asshole, like you asked.

M: Good. Press your finger inside, just the tip.

A: You're so bad.

M: I know you like it. You're my curious little girl.

He was right. I loved to play his innocent little girl, it made me wet just thinking about it. I licked my finger, and then pressed it back against the pucker, slowly wiggling and pressing until the tip of my finger to the bottom of my nail was packed inside. It felt strange, not particularly pleasurable, but at the same time, one of the most erotic sensations. It was the newness, the taboo that made it erotic, more than the sensation.

A: I love how dirty it makes me feel.

M: I'm glad. You're doing so well, baby.

M: I wish I could watch you play with yourself.

A: Maybe next time.

M: Can hardly wait. You may return to your clit now.

I was a bit sad we were moving on, but I obeyed, moving my fingers back onto my swollen nub. My body immediately tingling again, tension building quickly to my orgasm.

I heard the restroom door open and someone walked into the stall next to me, the clank of the latch eliciting an angry sigh.

A: Someone just walked in.

M: I want you to cum before they leave.

What? My heart was pounding in my ears now. I focused on keeping my breathing to dull gasping. I wasn't sure I was capable of cumming with someone right next to me. Maybe I knew them. What would they think? I didn't even think I could cum quietly in this state.

M: I want you to imagine I'm there, on my knees in between your sweet thighs, licking that pretty pussy of yours.

"Fuck," I mouthed. I needed to cum, I didn't care that someone was just on the other side of the plastic wall. I started to rub my clit in hard circles, drawing the climax out of me, my breathing heavy and hot in the small stall.

A: I need to cum.

M: Ask nicely.

A: Please.

M: What did I say?

What did he say? My brain was foggy and I had to blink to keep my eyes from blurring up. Then I remembered.

A: Please can I cum, sir?

M: Good girl. Cum for me.

I jolt ripped through my body, causing my back to arch against the wall, and my jaw locked open in a silent scream. I tried to cover my mouth without dropping my phone, but it clattered to the tile floor anyway. My body a stone as wave after wave crashed through me, I couldn't open my eyes, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Just as a I was beginning to think it wouldn't end, the waves slowly subsided to ripples and my breathing returned. I gulped down as much air as quietly as I could, trying to calm my desperate heart.

"Is this yours?" a female voice asked.

I opened my eyes and looked down to a hand holding out my phone under the stall door. Her nails were painted and bracelets chimed at her wrist.

Oh my God, I could not believe this was happening. I took it from her.

"Thank you, sorry," I said, unsure what was appropriate.

I leaned back against the wall, this time covering my mouth from shock. I looked down at the screen.

M: Well? Did you cum?

A: Fuck yes. I came so hard I dropped my phone.

I debated whether to tell him or not.

M: Ha, good girl. How did it feel?

Maybe another time.

A: So so good, Milo. I've never done anything like that at work before.

M: It won't be the last.

I couldn't hear the woman washing her hands and the door closing out of the restroom.

A: You're such a bad man, making me do all these things.

M: I can't make you do anything. You're the bad one and you know it.

A: I like it.

M: I'll make sure you never forget that.

M: When can I see you again?

**

It was impossible to focus for the rest of the week. We made plans to "play," as Milo called it, that Friday. I decided on something nice, and wore my wrap dress and wedges, like I was attending a City Hall Spring event. It was an event, just a different kind of event.

Milo sent me an address, I presumed another friend's house. It was a different neighborhood, not cliff-side but nice, million dollar homes along rosebush-lined streets. This house fit right in.

When I arrived, they were spreading out a light lunch, mimosas, finger food, fruits. On the drive there I had felt sexy and excited, but once I saw them again, I lost all my previous confidence. They were real again, not my imagination torturing in the late darkness. They were both so polite, almost formal with a house guest, like they had done this a million times before and will do this a million times again. I was yet again their timid, little girl.

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