Unexpected Affections Ch. 91-93

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Chapter 91

It wasn’t fair.

Hannah swallowed hard, shaking her head as she stepped back from Oliver to make sure he was keeping good form on his squats. Sure, he couldn’t go really deep with them yet, and flexibility was something they were going to be working on, but he was able to lift a pretty good amount compared to most beginners. He was strong.

What wasn’t fair was that, first off, he had a surprisingly nice ass. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought of before, really, even since she’d started fantasising about him. He was a big guy, and would be even if the diet and workout stuck and they managed to get him into half-decent shape. That, his cock, his hands and his eyes were the things that roamed through Hannah’s mind when she was being bad. It wasn’t until she started introducing some more traditional, basic exercises that he could do at his current fitness level that she realised that whatever genetics gave him his ‘mammoth cock’ had also genetically predisposed him to having a bit of a badonkadonk.

His entire working day was spent sitting on his butt, and until a couple of weeks ago, he’d been way closer to 0 than 10 on a ‘how much passive exercise do you do in a day?’ scale. There was no way he should have had the butt he did. Hell, he didn’t even play sports as a kid. And yet, there it was, big and meaty and kinda perky.

God, what does it look like while he’s pounding-.

Hannah choked off that thought, and then the next one, of hands grabbing onto his cock as he shoved it down their throat. Hers, April's, Zara’s - at this point, Hannah wasn’t even sure whether some of her fantasies were about him and her, or what he was actually doing with his girlfriend and his… whatever Zara was. Girlfriend’s slutty friend? Fuckbuddy?

Oliver wasn’t the kind of guy who would have a fuckbuddy.

“Nice, give me one more, Ollie,” Hannah encouraged him. “One more, go deep. Deeper, you can do it. Yeah, perfect, that’s the spot. Hold it there. Hold it there. Feel it squeezing? OK, now back up slowly. Slowly. Yes, perfect.”

“Holy moly,” Oliver gasped as he re-racked the bar.

“Nice job,” Hannah grinned and then gave his ass a slap. A sports teammate slap, not a grope. Her hand did not linger.

“Thanks,” he grinned, sucking in deep breaths and reaching for his water bottle. 

Hannah watched as he tipped it back, taking a big drink, and her eyes darted down to her shorts. Fuck. She could definitely see the outline of his cock today. And it was fucking big. Hannah wanted to wrap her mouth around the hammer knob at the end of it and-

“Come on, let’s move on to the next station,” she said, clearing her throat.

“OK,” he grinned, tired and sweating. She didn’t care about the fact that he was tired or drenched in sweat so soon into the workout. He was working hard; he was doing the thing. And he was trusting her to guide him through it.

He didn’t need to know that she was fucking flooding the two pairs of panties she’d worn under her wet-look workout shorts. She really didn’t want to consider having to wear a third pair of panties and buying new, baggier gear so that no one would see a wet spot on her crotch.

- - - - -

You grunted, sweat dripping from your brow and nose, tingling on your lips.

You were going to need to research this torture device that was the Stairmaster, see if ancient medieval gaolers had figured out that it was the worst and had replaced the rack, the iron maiden and all their other nasty things with it.

Maybe personal trainers were just modern-day torturers.

At one point in time, that might have been a mean thought considering your best friend was a personal trainer. But there was clear evidence to the contrary now - first, because of the whole stairmaster thing, which just felt like an escalation of her already torturous decisions about your diet and the exercises she already had you doing before today. But also because she might actually be a devil, sent from hell, to torture and tempt your weak soul.

You didn’t actually think she was doing it on purpose, but Hannah was being a bit of a torturous succubus.

First was the fact that she had done up her makeup as usual, which always made her look nice. You weren’t sure what she did to keep it from smudging or running or something when she was sweating, but after years of being a gym rat, she must have picked up plenty of tips and tricks. Her hair was back in a high ponytail today, and she was wearing a black athletic bra with bright yellow details on the straps and stuff. Most of her clavicle and neck were showing, her summer tan making her skin practically glow, especially with the light sheen of sweat as she did the exercises along with him. The thing about that bra was that, from any real distance, someone wouldn’t see it, but up close, you could very obviously see her nipple bumps. And then there were the shorts. The waistband was high on her waist, covering her belly button and most of her lower back, but they were tight. Your eyes kept getting drawn to her pantyline under it, especially when she was facing away from you as they made a V across her firm ass, leading down towards…

Hannah was a very fit, fun girl that you loved deeply. She was your best friend. She deserved the absolute world.

You should not have been looking at the bulge of her mound peaking out between her ass cheeks as she did some sort of squatting exercise, legs spread and braced wide, and only lifting it maybe a foot off the ground as she straightened her back and then bent back over. 

You really shouldn’t have been staring at her ass like it was a cheeseburger you wanted to bite into, or the light at the end of the tunnel, as you climbed those never-ending stairs.

You absolutely shouldn’t have been imagining what it would be like to pull those shorts down to her knees, bend her over and-

Pulling the emergency clip thing from the safety bar of the stairmaster, it immediately slowed to a stop, letting you hop off. You bent forward, hands on your knees, panting hard to catch your breath. And maybe not throw up.

“Are you OK, Ollie?” Hannah asked, suddenly right there beside you. Rubbing your back.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “Just need to catch my breath.”

You also needed her to not see your cock currently start to tent your shorts. That was the last thing you needed - Hannah realising that you were a pervert who was getting hard at the gym, abusing her trust and sexually objectifying her. She’d be disgusted with you.

“Here, sit down and take a breather,” she said, tugging on your arm to lead you to a nearby bench. “I’ll go get you some fresh, cold water.”

“Thanks,” you said, crouch-walking the ten or so steps as if you couldn’t stand upright to hide the state of your cock. You probably looked ridiculous, but that was better than the alternative.

Hannah was darting off in the direction of the filling station, your water bottle in her hands.

You wiped your sweaty face and took a deep breath in and out through your nose. Maybe you needed to start using the TV screens on the equipment instead of trying to focus too hard on the exercise. You might need the distraction.

Chapter 92

“What’s their Stamina again?” April asked, checking her cheatsheet.

“My Resistors?” you asked to clarify, and she nodded without looking up. “Six.”

“Ok,” April said, chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Is it a good or bad idea for me to Hyperactivate the Flame Breath on my Plasmageddon Raptor?”

“Well, what’s the difference in the stat lines?”

Arclite wasn’t the most complicated miniature wargame out there, but it wasn’t simple either. The designers had married a very distinct art and 3d model style to a distinct rules set that wanted to avoid any rock-paper-scissors issues where some things just always beat other things. They’d done that by giving lots of the weapon options two or three firing modes, and while you’d played enough games to know the general decision-making tree for which mode to use on a weapon, it was a steep, if short, learning curve for new players.

“Normal is ten shots, 14 hit, power 4, damage 1 with Spread. Hyper is three shots, sixteen hit, power 8, damage 4, piercing 5,” April rattled off the two stat blocks.

“So, think of it like this,” you said, gesturing to her Plasmageddon Raptor as it loomed around the corner of a building on your kitchen table. Last week’s nerdy date night had been painting up models, and this week April had asked if you’d teach her how to actually play the game she’d been collecting and painting for over two years just because she liked the models. “The one with more shots is like the Raptor is breathing fire and waving his head around, spreading it around. The one with fewer shots is like he’s breathing it right in one place, focusing it to melt through tougher stuff.”

“So I should hyperactivate it to try and take out your Hovertank, and normally activate it against your basic guys,” April followed your logic. “But… what about the Resistors, though? They’re like, in the middle.”

“It’s a toss-up,” you said. “In this case, there’s probably a mathematically correct answer, but you can’t take the time to run the numbers on every decision, or the game would take forever. Sometimes an option is obvious, like with the Hovertank and the Patrolmen, and sometimes you just gotta go with your gut to keep the game moving.”

“OK, um, I guess I’ll hyperactivate it then,” April said, grabbing three of the d20s and quickly rolling to see if she could get under the Hit value of the attack.

She ended up killing two of your three Transhuman Resistors, the heavily armoured elite infantry you used to provide a spread-out backbone to your front line, and she killed the last one with potshots from across the board with her Ghost Prowler, a skinny, small dragon sniper that you’d forgotten was hidden up on the third floor of a building. You’d picked up the wrong two guys as the first casualties and left the last one vulnerable.

But then, that was Arclite. And seeing April’s grin as she got a leg up on you on that part of the board was worth kicking yourself a little for sloppy play.

The game was a bit of a slobberknocker, though that wasn’t uncommon with new players. There were a lot of options for nuanced gameplay and being sneaky that veteran players generally leaned towards, but if one player wanted to rush the field from the start, models could be picked up pretty quickly on both sides. By the time you’d reached the end of the game, you each only had a few models left on the battlefield.

You shook hands, calling it a draw since neither of you had clearly won, and you hadn’t been keeping a strict track of scoring points, and then, instead of starting to clean up, April brought you over to your couch.

Hikaru was hanging out with Margot that evening; you had the apartment to ourselves for a while yet.

Once April had slurped an orgasm out of your cock like it was a straw, and you’d cuddled and fingered her to one of her own as you made out, the two of you were just holding each other and relaxing as Firefly episodes continued to play in the background on your TV.

“I feel like maybe this isn’t the best time, but I don’t want to chicken out saying something,” you murmured to her, running your fingers through her hair. It was Tuesday night, and you’d been wanting to talk to her since Sunday night, but it didn’t feel like a phone call conversation.

“You mean it’s something that isn’t sexy, or might be a turn off,” April guessed.

“Maybe,” you grimaced. “It’s not- Well, I guess it could be serious, but I need your feedback to even figure out if it is fully or not.”

“OK,” April frowned, sitting up a little and taking a breath. You were both already fully dressed again just in case Hikaru came home, so we didn’t need to put anything away to better focus.

“OK,” you said, hesitating now that the moment had arrived. “Um, it’s about the ‘fuckbuddy’ situations with Zara and Margot. Are you sure that you want to, well… I’m just having a hard time figuring out how to balance my feelings. I should trust you to tell me if the whole thing actually isn’t something you want, but for me, I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Wait, hold on,” April said, cocking her head a little and frowning as she took your hand in both of hers, massaging it a little. “Is this about Zara, Margot, or both of them?”

“Both,” you said. “I mean, in slightly different ways, but it boils down to the same thing.”

“What’s it boil down to?”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling to find the right words. “I don’t like feeling like I’m cheating on you when I’m feeling jealous about Zara doing modelling jobs in skimpy clothing, or thinking about Margot sexually. Or anyone else. I feel like my brain is on sexual overdrive, and I feel like I should just feel that for you, but the whole fuckbuddies thing is messing with me.”

April nodded slowly, pursing her lips as she absorbed what you said and processed it. “So you feel like you’re cheating when you’re thinking about other women?” she asked.

“I feel like-” you said, and then stopped and shook your head. “It’s not cheating, but I still feel guilty about it. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for just seeing someone who was attractive and having random thoughts. But I would feel uncomfortable with- I don’t know, I feel like the way we’ve set things up has logic holes in it, and those holes are making me mentally itchy.”

“Ollie, baby,” April said, smiling sweetly as she tried to parse what the hell you were saying. “Is this about the fact that I’m letting you fuck other women, and your friend, but I’m not doing the same with other guys?”

“Partially?” you hedged.

“We talked about that already, didn’t we? You have more than enough cock and manliness for me,” April said. “I couldn’t handle more cock if it was offered to me on a silver platter. And I am having the same experiences as you are with Zara and Margot. Flirting, sexting with Zara, sending nudes and stuff. I’m bisexual, so it’s the same as if I was doing that with a guy in terms of what would be cheating or not if we agreed that it was cheating. So I don’t see it as hypocritical or anything, and you don’t need to feel guilty unless you and Margot start doing stuff behind my back.”

“What about the emotional side of things, though?” you asked bluntly.

“You mean like how Zara called you on Sunday night?”

“Like that,” you nodded. You’d only told April what you’d promised to Zara, limiting the details of it all, but had heard from Zara yesterday that she’d spilt everything to April anyway.

“Ollie,” April said, shifting closer and leaning her head against your shoulder. “I love that you can care that deeply for my best friend, and our lover. She needed you, and you were there for her.”

“I know, but- When she was just telling me about the job, not even the bad stuff, I started to feel jealous, April,” you admitted. “Something in me was frustrated and, I don’t know, possessive over her. And with Margot, I’m basically- I don’t know. I’m just worried that I can’t do sex without emotions. No, I know I can’t do it. And I’m scared of what that means.”

“Ollie,” April said, frowning as she put her hands on your cheeks and pulled you down to actually look her in the eye. “Who said you had to have sex while trying to keep emotions out of it?”

“Isn’t that the point of the fuckbuddies thing?” you asked incredulously.

“Ollie, no,” April said. “I mean, how could I have sex with Zara and not feel things? She’s my best friend. We were already super close, and the intimacy is adding physical romance to that. Of course I’m feeling a lot for her. And I wouldn’t expect you not to feel that same way for Margot. Them being our fuckbuddies doesn’t mean we’re not having meaningful, personal relationships with them, it just means they’re deep, personal connections we’re also fucking. I’d be scared if you weren’t having romantic feelings towards them. And honestly? Zara needs us to be more jealous over her, probably. It’ll be good for her to feel wanted like that, and also to keep her grounded and not do something wild to try and make a change in her career that would just end up hurting her.”

You grunted, wiping your face with both your hands.

“I’m OK with you loving Zara and Magot, Oliver,” April said softly, leaning closer to you again and resting her chin on your shoulder. “I just need you to be in love with me, OK?”

“OK,” you said, letting out a breath. It was still confusing, but it was a clear confusion. “What about… I feel like I’m thinking about sex all the time.”

“So?” April asked. “Most guys do, Oliver.”

“OK, but I didn’t,” you said. “Not before all of this started.”

April swung her leg over you, straddling your lap and hugging you, her breasts pressing against your chest. “This sounds a little grandiose, Ollie, but… I mean, I think I gave you a sexual awakening. You’re not a different person, but us getting together, us hooking up that first time? I think it unlocked a door in you that had always been shut, and you piled a bunch of stuff in front of it to try and ignore it. It’s OK to fantasise about people, OK? Even people you know. Everyone does it, Oliver. Or most people do. Idly, or actively. Friends, acquaintances, coworkers, teachers you had in high school, pornstars and celebrities. Hell, even relatives. It happens. It would only be worrying if you didn’t have a filter and just started saying or doing things about it.”

“It doesn’t feel normal,” you argued. “It feels invasive, like I’m being a pervert.”

“My hot MILF neighbour Wendy Perkins, the high school gym teacher for the guys' classes my freshman year of high school, and the guy working out in the park near my parents’ place,” April said.

“What?”

“Those are the last three people, other than you, Zara and Margot, who I thought about sexually today,” she said. “I’ve had a crush on Wendy for years. She’s stupidly pretty and has this ass that is just, like, wow. She’s also happily married, and I would never actually do anything, I just stare at her ass sometimes and think about burying my face in it and tasting her pussy while she moans my name and calls me a ‘naughty girl.’ The guys’ gym teacher from high school was right out of teacher’s college, and it was his first job, and he was super athletic and would lift his shirt on hot days and wipe sweat from his face, which would show off his abs. Us girls would always talk about licking the sweat off of them. I don’t think about him very often, but when I see someone with abs, it always reminds me of him and the time his shorts were riding a little low when he did that and we saw his penis lines - those, like, muscle lines on the pelvis when someone is stupidly lean. And it was the guy doing some sort of aerobic workout, shirtless in the park, that made me think of him to begin with, and I wondered if he had a giant cock like yours or if he had a tiny little dick because of steroids.”

You worked your jaw a few times, trying to find words. Any words. You weren’t even sure what words you might be looking for.

“Random thoughts, and even specific fantasies, don’t hurt anyone, Ollie,” April said softly, looking you in the eyes earnestly. “Not if you’re not trying to act on them or something. OK?”

“OK,” you agreed.

She squirmed on your lap a bit, grinning a little as she felt your cock pressing up against her through your pants. “It was the MILF and the ‘naughty girl’ thing, wasn’t it?” she grinned.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, blushing and smirking a little.

“Do you wanna tell me one or two of your fantasies?” she asked. “I promise, it’s OK.”

“Um,” you said, blushing a little harder. “I mean… Paula, down at the coffee shop? The other week she was going on a weekend away and I walked her to the bus stop while she was wearing a bikini top, and her boobs- Well, they’re pretty big, like yours.”

“She’s cute, and she’s your friend,” April smiled. “And she was flashing bikini cleavage? Totally normal to look, appreciate, and think about that.”

“I mean, Margot and the flashing thing,” you said, avoiding the two that were coming to mind closest to home.

“Obviously,” April smirked. “And that didn’t turn out bad at all, did it?”

“I guess not,” you grinned sheepishly.

“One more,” she encouraged you. “Something naughty. Something that’ll make me want to drag you into your bedroom and fuck you silly.”

You swallowed hard. “Um. Well, Hannah wears all that tight workout gear at the gym, and when she does squats and stuff, sometimes my brain goes to bending her over and pulling her tight little shorts down and… y’know.”

“Stuffing her so full of your cock she’s moaning your name like a little whore?” April grinned, leaning close, breasts squashed to your chest and her lips brushing yours as she looked into your eyes.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly.

She licked your lips, then kissed them. Then April pulled away, standing up and offering you both her hands to encourage you to stand as well. “Hannah’s a little hottie, and I’m sure she wears stylish, tight workout clothes when she’s at the gym and working. And she does have a fantastic ass - it would be hot to bend her over and spank her. That’s what I think of when I see her ass. Now come on, baby. Come bend me over the bed and stuff me with that mammoth cock until I’m moaning your name like a whore into your bed sheets.”

That wasn’t a suggestion you were likely to ever be able to deny.

Chapter 93

“Hey, Hanna Banana,” Jacques said. “What’s going wit’ you, huh? You’re looking mighty fine today, don’t tell me you’re finally going to let me take you out tonight?”

Hannah smiled, rolling her eyes at the British man’s jovial, sexy accent. She wasn’t sure exactly where in the UK he was from, mostly because she tried not to spend too much time talking to him. Most of the soccer players she worked with at her day job as one of the team's Fitness coaches were a little insufferable - either because they were dumb as rocks, which was at least a little sweet, or scheming little shits who wanted to do as little work as possible for the most benefit. And that included in the dating department.

Sometimes, when most of them asked her out, she wondered if they realised she’d heard all their locker room talk in the team gym that same day.

Jacques was one of the few players she’d come across in the past couple of years working for the team that wasn’t insufferable, and if he wasn’t a member of the team, she probably would have actually taken him up on a date. He was dashingly good looking, though she wasn’t a huge fan of butt chins and he had one, he was fit as hell, and that accent… And, most importantly, he was cockily friendly without being arrogant. He wasn’t a star player, but he was considered one of the most consistent Defensive players in the entire MLS. He wasn’t likely to make any highlight reels, but he did his job well every single game, and he had the stamina of a soccer-playing machine.

“You know my policy, Jacques,” Hannah said, favouring him with her actual smile and not just the Customer Service one she used with most of the players. “I don’t shit where I eat.”

“See, I’ve ben thinking about dat, Hannah Bananas,” Jacques grinned right back. “You eat at your home, yeah? And, not to be rude, but you’ve gotta go to the bathroom there too, right? So doesn’t that mean you kinda do shit where you eat?”

“Different rooms, Jacques,” Hannah snorted, rolling her eyes at him again.

“Come on,” he said, leaning against the nearby Smith machine and shooting her a cheeky grin. “Just one date. Let me show you a good time, I promise not to let you fall in love with me.”

Hannah sighed, smirking and shaking her head. “Can’t do it, Jacques,” she said. “I’m already seeing someone.”

“What?” he asked in happy surprise. “When did this start? You didn’t say anything about that! Who is he? Is he treating you well?”

“I’ve, uh, been keeping it on the down-low,” Hannah lied her ass off. She didn’t know why she said she was seeing someone. When she’d fallen back on that excuse as a reason not to give a guy her number or agree to a date, she’d always thought of Oliver as her ‘stand-in boyfriend’ and knew that he wouldn’t mind playing the role if it was really needed. Now, though… Now she wasn’t just thinking of him as some cardboard cutout to point to. “He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met, we’ve known each other a long time, and we just click really well.”

“That’s so nice, Hannah,” Jacques said, actually happy for her. “Congratulations!”

She accepted the hug he offered, knowing he was being genuine. “Thanks, Jacques,” Hannah answered, feeling guilty as hell. “But like I said, keep it on the down-low. We aren’t telling people yet.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said with a wink, then he grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Though, if you’re taken, do you think you have a friend as pretty as you, who might be looking for a date this weekend? It’s been a hot minute since I met a new bird.”

Hannah almost told him no, but then realised she did know someone who might be up for a date, and could probably keep up with Jacques, too. “How do you feel about girls in boots?” she asked.

- - - - -

“There you go, Johnny,” Hikaru said, carefully setting down the complicated, extra-large coffee and sliding it across the countertop to the guy who was waiting for his order. There were so many syrups, foams and espresso shots in it that she’d had barely any room for the actual coffee, but he was paying a premium for it and she didn’t have to drink it, so it wasn’t really that big of a deal.

“Thank you so much,” Johnny said. He was one of the afternoon regulars, swinging by around 3 pm on most days. He was always wearing a very nice suit and bright, clean white sneakers, and Hikaru guessed he must have been extremely fastidious with his grooming habits because there wasn’t just no hairs out of place, but he didn’t seem to have a single pore out of place either. “It’s Hikaru, right?”

“Oh, um, it is, yeah,” Hikaru said, stopping mid-turn as he spoke to her.

“Is that Japanese?” he asked. “I feel like it’s Japanese, but I’m also having a big ‘Please don’t think I’m racist for guessing’ moment.”

“No, it is,” Hikaru said, smiling at his self-deprecation a bit. Thankfully, this time of day wasn’t that busy, so chatting quickly with a customer was actually encouraged since it helped get to know the regulars and keep them coming back. “I’m half-Japanese, and my father was a first-generation immigrant.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” Johnny said. “Have you been there, or did you just grow up here?”

This was starting to get a little personal, and Hikaru had to work a little to keep her smile on her face. “I bounced back and forth,” she said. “I have lots of family in both countries, now.”

“Amazing,” Johnny said, and she felt like it was in a weird tone. “Oh, you’re absolutely gorgeous, by the way. You have really great skin.”

“...Thanks?” Hikaru said, starting to shift back from the counter a bit. Hopefully, one of her coworkers would notice what was going on sooner than later and run interference. That was another encouraged activity for when the chatting got a little too chatty.

“I was thinking we could go out,” Johnny said. “Tomorrow night, eight o’clock? I’ve got a reservation at De L’Amour. It’s French-Asian fusion, really good. You’ll love it.”

“Um, no thanks,” Hikaru said.

“Believe me, you’ll love it,” he repeated himself, his shit eating grin getting wider as he nodded.

“No. Thanks anyway,” Hikaru said.

“I can send a car to pick you up, if it’s a transportation thing,” Johnny said. “I’m not some big shot who expects his girl to be independently wealthy or something. We’ll have a great time, I promise.”

“I’m not going to go out with you,” Hikaru said loudly. Awkwardly loudly. Most of the light conversation in the rest of the shop went quiet as people looked over. “I’m not interested, thank you.”

If Johnny had anything, he had persistence. He didn’t seem to care if people were staring.

“Hikaru, come on,” he said. “You and I both know that, working here, you couldn’t afford the appetisers at De L’Amour. And that’s totally OK. It’ll be a fun, chill night. We grab dinner, maybe head somewhere else for drinks. Dancing? You look like you’d be a killer on the dance floor. We just cut loose and have fun.”

“My boyfriend would probably have something to say about that,” Hikaru said. Where the hell were her co-workers? “And it looks like he cares a lot more about the actual words that come out of my mouth than you do.”

Johnny, it turned out, was the Terminator of being shot down. “Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know, and I guarantee I can spend more in a night than he can in a year. Ever hear of DiploCoin? I made bank on that two years ago, and it’s been a ride ever since. I’m giving you the chance to grab on.”

Ktch-chzzzz. The snapping, mechanical sound broke the tension between them, and Hikaru looked over to see Paula lowering an old-fashioned Polaroid camera with a picture printing out of it.

“Hey,” Johnny said. “What the hell?”

“Hi, I’m Paula. I own this place,” Paula said, a big, fake grin on her face.

“Do you take pictures of all your customers and invade their privacy?”

His righteous indignation struck Hikaru just the right way after the conversation they’d just been having, and she barked a laugh, tried to suppress it, and just started giggling madly as she clapped a hand to her lips.

“Only the ones I’m banning from my store. Get out, we don’t serve your kind here,” Paul said, still with that piercing smile matched with a powerful glare.

“What? My kind?” Johnny asked, rearing back with a confused grimace.

“Yeah,” Paula said, taking the Polaroid from the camera and waving it quickly. “Asshole losers who can’t take ‘No’ for an answer. So here’s a few more, maybe you’ll learn what it means. I do not want you on the premises. If you come back, you will be denied service and the police will be called. This interaction is being recorded on our security cameras, so I have evidence that you have been informed of this. If you attempt to harass my employee any further, we will file sexual harassment charges against you. And, as a reminder, you paid me at the till for your absolutely disgusting drink, so I know that you paid with a credit card, which means I can get access to your full name to make sure the police can find you. So kindly fuck off with your little dick energy bullshit.”

“You can’t just throw paying customers out of here,” he argued. “I paid, I have a right to be here, and asking someone out isn’t a crime.”

“This is private property, I can make you leave whenever the hell I want,” Paula snapped at him.

“I’m gonna call your corporate offices and-”

“God, you’re such a fucking loser,” Hikaru snorted, and started giggling all over again, turning away and crying, she was laughing so hard at the absurdity of the situation. 

She missed whatever was said next, as she went down into a squat behind the counter, still giggling hysterically. Eventually, she was gasping for breath, wiping the tears from her eyes, and she realised Paula was kneeling next to her.

“Sorry,” Hikaru mumbled.

“For what?” Paula asked, entirely surprised.

“For not handling that myself,” Hikaru mumbled, starting to blush furiously just thinking about what had just happened. “For calling a customer a fucking loser. For losing my mind.”

“Do you always start cackling when someone is being a dickhead?” Paula chuckled, standing and grabbing some napkins from nearby, then kneeling again to hand them to Hikaru.

“No, that was a first,” Hikaru said, shaking her head. “God, that was embarrassing.”

“For you?” Paula asked. “No way. For him, absolutely. And for real, he’s banned for life.”

“Thanks,” Hikaru sighed.

“Do you actually have a boyfriend? You told him you had a boyfriend, but you’ve never mentioned one before.”

“No,” Hikaru said, feeling her cheeks get even warmer. “It was just something I figured might get him to leave me alone. Then he just kept talking, and I started comparing him to Oliver in my head, and I mean…”

“Oliver’s ten times the man he is,” Paula smiled and nodded. “Which made it kind of funny.”

“Especially when he admitted he’s a crypto bro,” Hikaru snickered.

“OK,” Paula chuckled, standing again and helping the other woman up to her feet. “Take fifteen in the back, get yourself cleaned up and feeling right again. Is that enough time?”

“I can just keep working now, I’ll-”

“Hikki,” Paula said, grabbing Hikaru’s forearms before she could start doing anything. “Go take a breather. We’re fine.”

“OK,” Hikaru said, then let out a sigh that relaxed her shoulders. “Thanks, Paula.”

“Anytime, every time,” Paula grinned, then pulled her into a quick hug, and Hikaru slipped away towards the back staff area. Behind her, she could hear Paula starting to question the other two baristas about why they didn’t step in before she came out from the back after hearing the commotion.

- - - - -

Margot was whistling to herself softly under her breath as she pushed the Returns cart around the upper floor of the University library. The summer session was still on, so there weren’t that many people using the library, but people still managed to leave books around constantly, and they needed to be gathered up and re-shelved.

It was a good thing, too, because it meant she had something to do that filled the long, quiet hours.

The moan that echoed out from the stacks over in the far corner reminded her of the other thing that she was patrolling for.

Abandoning the cart, since it had a slightly squeaky wheel, Margot stepped lightly and hopped off the tiles and onto the carpet, weaving her way around some study tables. She loved her cowboy boots, even at work, but they had a tendency to give her away if she was trying to sneak on tile.

Another moan, softer than the first one but still audible now that Margot was closer, came from the back corner again. Distinctly female.

Margot could picture where the two - or more - people probably were. First row in from the back, right at the end, but just far enough in that she would have to be right in the entrance to the row to see them. They wouldn’t be the first pair, or more, that Margot had caught there under the collection of Post-Colonial Treatises on Economic shifts in Africa in the mid-19th Century.

The closer she got, the more sure she was that it was definitely the spot, and the clearer the moans got. Someone was doing a good job at whatever they were doing to this girl.

Ten steps away, she could tell someone was whispering to the moaner, and five steps away, she could even hear the squish-squish-squish sound of a sopping pussy.

“Hi,” Margot said, grinning evilly as she slipped around the corner of the library stack. “Is this really an appropriate activity for a public place?”

It was two girls. Both a little bohemian in their style, the ‘I care about looking like I don’t care’ kind of vibe that seemed to be popular at the moment, particularly with the undergrads who were in, or on the fringe, of the protest movements. One of them was backed up to the stacks, her tights and panties pulled down to her knees, and her shirt pulled up with her decent-sized tits pulled out of her bra cups. Her nipples were pierced, and Margot’s eyes kept travelling upward to see that she was actually a fairly pretty girl with a dark brown pixie cut and big eyes that were currently strained between horny near-orgasm and panic. The other girl was fully dressed and had a bit more of an androgynous, punk aesthetic with lots of bracelets, badly dyed blue hair, and a collection of ‘stamp’ tattoos up and down her lean arms.

The second one currently had three fingers inside the first one’s pussy and was working her pretty fast and hard. 

Or she was before she froze at Margot’s surprise appearance. And then she bolted, running full tilt down the rows of books.

“Chrissy!” The pixie-haired cutie yelped, snapping her legs shut and covering herself awkwardly with her hands as she looked back and forth between Margot and her erstwhile sexual partner running away.

“Damn,” Margot said. “That sucks.”

“You really had to do that?” the girl asked.

“You two really thought it was a good idea to finger bang each other up here?” Margot shot back. “I mean, at least do it in the washroom. Then you’ll hear the door opening.”

“Sounds like you have experience with that sort of thing,” Pixie Hair grinned a little, still covering herself.

“Just good at my job,” Margot smirked. “Get yourself put together and head out, yeah? I’m not gonna report you or anything this time. And tell your friend she’s a shitty friend.”

“Hey,” Pixie Hair said as Margot was turning to leave. She dropped her hands, revealing her pretty tits and the sparse brunette wedge of pubes over her mound. “You wanna help me finish? You’re super hot, and I promise I will pay it back double or better.” She stuck her tongue out, proving she had not one but two tongue piercings. For her pleasure.

“Sorry, girlie,” Margot shook her head after a moment of appreciating her offer and her nudity. “I’ve got a boyfriend, and it’s going really well so far. I’m sure Chrissy will be happy to meet up with you in some other corner on cams and finish the job.”

“After running like that?” Pixie Hair scoffed. “Fuck her. I’ll just go home to my dildo. Good luck with the boyfriend.”

“Thanks,” Margot chuckled, leaving the girl to get properly dressed again, shaking her head as she started heading back to her cart. Fucking college kids.

- - - - -

“A little closer,” the photographer murmured. “OK, a little more. Give me a bit more intensity. More intensity, more! Perfect. Julio, stiffen your jaw. Yes. Zara, pivot your head slightly away. Perfect. Give me full eye contact. More. More. You’re angry. Furious. Relieved, you’re relieved. You haven’t seen each other in years, and you’re relieved to be reunited. OK, hug it out- aaand that’s a wrap.”

The two other staffers, the one who was doing all the lighting and the photographer's assistant, both started clapping. Zara thought it was a little weird to do that, especially on such a small set. It wasn’t like a dozen or more people were coming together on this; it was just a marketing run for some rich person’s pet perfume project. Hell, it was marketing to convince an actual brand to pick it up, or a big store to carry the product to begin with. The ridiculous setup, dressed in pirate period clothing, would never see the light of day outside of corporate officers.

Still, it was a paying gig, and after the shitshow on Sunday, it was nice to do something corporate with professionals. 

“Good shoot,” Julio said, coming out of the Men’s changeroom for the studio just a second after Zara left the Women’s.

“Yeah, you too,” Zara said. “You’ve got great eyes. Super intense. They should be happy with what they got.”

“You’ve got really great eyes too,” Julio said, matching her stride as they both headed for the exit. “We worked together on that pool shoot, remember? For the thing with the parrots?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right,” Zara chuckled, smirking at the memory. The client hadn’t accounted for the fact that the rented parrots would shit whenever they wanted, which had ruined several outfits.

“You’re based in Vegas, right?” Julio asked.

“Yep, based here, but I take work up and down the West coast,” Zara nodded. “You?”

“Same with the West coast, but I just moved out here from LA,” he said. “Way better traffic here.”

“No kidding,” Zara smirked. “And better taxes.”

“You want to hang out sometime, maybe grab some drinks?” Julio offered. 

Zara stopped, slowly turning to look at him. Julio was a good-looking guy, just as fit as Zara was, and tall enough that she didn’t quite match him if she were wearing heels. They would look really good together.

“Do you mean drinks, or drinks?” Zara asked, the difference apparent. Was he asking to hang out, or to find a reason for two sexy people to fall into bed together?

“Well, I was hoping for drinks, but I’d be happy with drinks,” Julio answered with a shrug and a smirk. “I could use some friends out here.”

Zara twisted her lips a little, considering him for a long moment, until finally coming to a decision. “I’ve got a boyfriend,” she said. “With an amazing heart and an eleven-inch cock. And I’m not even exaggerating. I also have a girlfriend who’s been my best friend since before middle school, so I’m not looking for drinks with anyone. If you can handle the fact that I’m entirely uninterested in you sexually, but I appreciate that you were professional and good at your job, we can meet up for a drink or two. Can you handle that?”

“I can handle that,” Julio agreed, and they started walking towards the exit again. Then, a moment later. “Eleven?”

“Mhmm.”

“And that- I mean- How does it-?”

“Barely,” Zara grinned, knowing what he was trying to ask. “Perfectly, but barely.”