“He’s right, you know, you are a good girl.”
The blonde smiled up at her, “Thank you.”
“Oh, I’m Apple, by the way.” She offered her hand.
“Um, nice to meet you, Apple,” the blonde looked confused.
Apple got off the blonde and sat on the edge of the bed. Her naked skin was sweaty from their previous activities and she still had difficulty catching her breath. Absently tugging at the leather collar still around her neck, her blue eyes caught the blonde’s. “And you are?”
“She doesn’t know.” The male voice made both women jump.
In one quick motion, the blonde slipped under the purple duvet and turned to the voice. “Who the fuck are you?”
Apple, seeing the tall muscled man, smiled and did not cover up at all. She stood and leaned against one of the four-poster bed’s wooden posts, mimicking his posture. Her voice was much deeper and slower, “Yes, who the fuck are you?”
Gray leaned in the corner with arms crossed, staring at one of the Boris posters on the wall. “This is nice artwork your Master has.”
Again confused, the blonde slowly responded, “He has good taste.”
Standing up straight, his tight black tee-shirt rippled with the muscles beneath it. His black jeans swished as he stepped towards the bed. “And why the fuck did He name you Apple?”
“He? Who’s he? And why doesn’t she know her name?”
Gray raised up his fingers in quotes. “‘He’. Not he.”
The blonde shuffled under the covers. “Could one of you throw me my clothes, please. They’re under one of the chairs.”
Gray picked up the clothes and lay them on the bed side. His own blue eyes never left Apple’s. “And may I introduce myself. I am Gray.” He bowed and took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “At your service. Your blonde friend here does not know her name as He did not give her one…I think He just refers to her as Good Girl, or something.”
The blonde saw her chance, slipped out of the bed behind him and pulled her clothes on.
Apple stood her ground. With good heels on, she would have been eye-to-eye with him, but it was the muscles that had her saliva running. “Again, who is He?”
“Nice meeting both of you, but think I gotta run.” The blonde scampered out of the room…black skirt firmly tucked in panties…and slammed the door screaming for help.
“Yes, the writer,” Gray smiled. Holding both arms straight out, he threw back his head and exclaimed, “He is our god!”
Her eyes found her own clothes as she felt concerned about being alone with him suddenly. “I see. Does he normally have you residing in a padded cell?”
“Funny girl,” he said and winked. “I can prove it, but you better put your clothes on first.”
This confused her. At least she figured he was not here to attack her and yet this was oddly disappointing.
Gray’s eyes followed her and lowered to her ass as she walked to her clothes. “He was right.”
She glanced up as she pulled her stockings on. “About what?”
“You’re like Faye Reagan with blue eyes.”
“I’m a bit older, but I’ve heard that before. I’ve also been told Riley Shy as well…and she has blue eyes.”
“Nice. My lady knows her pornstars. Impressive.” Gray nodded and his eyes continued to linger on her. “However, I prefer experience to youth.”
Her skirt was black and hung just past her knees. Her blouse was burgundy with sleeves that poofed out like Seinfeld’s pirate shirt. She grasped the collar and began to slip the lip out.
“Oh, and leave the collar on.”
“You’re not my…”
“No, I’m not…but where we’re going, you’ll need it.”
She stopped and pushed it back tightly closed again. Somehow, she trusted him. “So tell me more about this writer.”
“I’d rather show you…”
Her sight went blurry as the room faded away. Apple almost lost her balance, but felt Gray’s hand grip her forearm and keep her upright as the colour left and everything became white noise and snow.
First the sound returned like the roar of a stadium crowd…then colours began to reform…and finally things focused.
The apartment was dark, very dark. Orange glow of the streetlights outside the front window was defeated by the falling snow as though there were blinds on the window.
“Where are we?” Apple asked, still trying to keep her balance. She shivered, as well, suddenly feeling under dressed for the season.
“Calgary, Alberta. Southeast part of the city along Acadia Drive and off of Heritage Drive.”
Her eyes widened and blinked. “Canada? How the fuck…”
“The writer, I told you. He controls us like puppets on a string.”
“So why are we here?”
Gray took her hand and pulled her towards the window. He pointed and asked, “See that? That’s Acadia Pool where the writer once had lessons as a kid. He grew up not far from here.”
“We’re here because this alleged writer grew up here?”
“No, not exactly. He also wrote a series about a serial killer based out of this apartment. Seems to me there was one part where there was a body left in that part…ah…over there.”
Gray nodded. “Yeah, serial killer.”
“Is he cute?”
He laughed. “I would assume so. He is something of a black widow in that his orgasm saps the life from the women he was with…or something along those lines.”
A smile grew. “Awesome.”
“Yeah, but you’d be dead.”
“What a way to go.”
Gray shrugged. “I guess it would be.”
“Speaking of which, I’m horny.”
Gray’s eyes widened as he turned to watch her lowering to her knees.
“Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer, she tugged the zipper on his pants down.
He knew better than to argue with a hungry woman and braced himself against the window frame so he could enjoy the warmth of her mouth without falling over.
She gave a quick spit for lube and took his erection all the way in.
Neither heard the slight rattle of keys at the door, nor did they hear it open. They did, however, hear the voice, “What the fuck?”
Gray’s eyes widened and he looked up at me. “Ah shit, can’t you just give me this one? For fuck sake, she’s a redhead…she’s cute…and she’s horny!”
“Are you the serial killer?” Apple asked, licking her lips.
The man in the shadows tensed. “The what?”
“Of course he is,” Gray sighed.
“Cool. Mister, you are so getting fucked.”
“Don’t worry, sugar,” Apple stood and gave Gray’s cock a light stroke. “I’ll be back for you.”