Danielle

“Danielle?!” Her name bursts from me like an expletive. I spring up and clumsily cower behind the couch, as if the low blue cushions will save me from her. “What’re you doing here?”

She’s standing in the doorway of the apartment, framed by the mid-day sun behind her, purse in one hand and reusable shopping bag in the other. Her huge mane of bronze hair’s pulled back tight into a bun and half her face is hidden big dark amber sunglasses except for the frown that’s curling into a scowl, but there’s no mistaking her. “Tyler. What the hell. I live here. B said he told you.”

“He said– he said–” I stumble, in my words but also on my feet, slow to put the pieces together, “He said his girlfriend lives with him. That means– He didn’t say– I didn’t know–”

Danielle sighs, shakes her head, and makes herself at home. Which makes sense, as this is what I am now understanding to be her home. I am in Danielle Conway’s home. I stare agog as she folds her sunglasses into her purse and sets down her bags and tosses off her houndstooth jacket. Her blouse is sleeveless and shimmery blue-green and makes her look so sophisticated, so grown up. “Nice to see you’re still an idiot, Tyler. Some things never change, do they?” She opens the fridge, leans in. “Remind me again how many days you’re staying with us?”

My cheeks are blushing, hand is shaking, my mind running a thousand directions at once. “I don’t have to. I can get a hotel. It’s just for the weekend, I leave the day after the wedding. If I had known, I would’ve– I didn’t mean to bother you, really, I’ll get out of your way–”

“Tyler, Tyler, shut up. If I had a problem with you staying here, I woulda told B not to offer in the first place. Mark’s wedding must be costing you enough as it is, with the flights and car rental to get out here and all, and I know your parents skipped town a few years back. Though I do think it’s curious that B didn’t tell you that him and I were together. Whatever. Anyway, what happened back in high school… well, it’s water under the bridge. It was, what, five years ago now? Ancient history. It’ll only be weird if you make it weird, Tyler. And you’re not going to make it weird, are you?” She’s walked up to me sipping her can of bubbly water, eyes narrow and serious. Even a couple inches shorter than me, even all these years later, she still intimidates me. It doesn’t help that she’s somehow gotten even prettier than I remember.

“I–” and I stop myself, stop my mouth from spurting the first moronic words that spring to it, and pause to really consider my answer. “No. I never apologized–”

“That’s not true,” she corrects, “You apologized. Over and over again. Like, a hundred times. Too many times. It was weird.”

Her sentence ends, the accusation bare and just laying there. Silence swirls, and I try not to buckle beneath her menace. I swallow and attempt another strategy. “Ok. I just, um. Well. I just won’t talk about it if you don’t talk about it. How about that? We can just, pretend that it never happened, like.” I shrug sheepishly.

And then she flashes me one of those grins of hers, one of the ones that always used to make my heart skip a beat, with lips wide and taunting, cheeks dimpled and cute, eyes glimmering with a private mischief. That uncomfortable clenched emptiness forms in my gut, an emotion made manifest, a sensation I’d forgotten. And her lips, thick, pink, they purse together only to say, “Did you ever end up learning how to actually ask a girl out? The proper way, I mean, and not… you know?”

My gulp is so loud I think the people on the street outside can hear it. “I– I got a girlfriend.”

Danielle’s smile is so natural, so charming. “Sit the fuck down, Tyler. Relax. You look stupid nervous. I’m not going to bite you.” She giggles and adds, “No matter how much you want me to.”

“You said it was water under the bridge!”

“Oh, lighten up. Just having fun. Tell me about your girlfriend. What’s she like?” She sits next to me on the couch, not so close, but not so far away, either. I can feel it, her aura, pulling me in like she’s an electromagnet and I’m the iron filing.

I fumble over my own words, barely form them into coherent fragments of sentences. “Had a girlfriend. Down in LA. Not anymore. She broke up with me. I guess. After a couple months. It’s ok, though. We weren’t… we weren’t right together.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, a year ago? Maybe two?” I force a laugh. It does not sound natural. “I kinda don’t remember…”

“And now what? Are you dating? You’re in Los fucking Angeles, Tyler,” she says the city name with an air of awe, as if the place deserves respect, “There’s millions of girls there, and despite being kind of a dumbass you’re a cute enough guy. Don’t tell me you’re not dating.”

Since when has Danielle ever taken an interest in my romantic life? But I guess we’re all adults now, and this is what adults talk about. Dating and engagements and weddings and I guess even kids, too, eventually. I don’t feel ready for any of it. I look up at her, see her pretty eyes regarding me. It may’ve been years since I last felt myself swept away by them, but their enchantment remains the same, and I wonder why I’ve never since felt that way with anyone else. “I really should be, shouldn’t I?” I admit.

“Yes.”

“I’m such a fuck-up.”

“Hey,” she says, her smile almost enough to warm me back up, “You’ve got a good job, actually doing something to follow your dreams, not just wasting away in your hometown, fucked up with drugs and life going nowhere. So you’re already doing better than at least half our class. The half that never wants anything outside of this nothing town.”

The moment swells with honesty, puts me at ease and makes me vulnerable, makes me need to shed what weight burdens me. “I really do feel bad, about what I did to you back in high school, I mean. But I think, mostly, I’m embarrassed. I cringe whenever I think about it still to this day. I watched too many movies, had too many wrong ideas about grand gestures and what women wanted. And it’s not about you but I was coming back for this wedding even while hoping I wouldn’t see you. So that I wouldn’t have to … to face you, to have this conversation we’re having now. So I know I’m shit and said ‘sorry’ too many times but it’s because of me feeling like such an idiot, and I’m sorry for even bringing it up again now, but I just can’t not, and I… I…”

Danielle lets my words peter out, gives me space to say everything that I apparently have to say. And then she’s kind enough to not be upset with me. “Everyone’s a moron when they’re seventeen. I did stuff I regret, too, you know. Maybe not in front of the entire school… but still. What I’ve learned, is that those things sting so that you maybe glean something from them. So that you stop thinking you’re in love with girls you’re not in relationships with.”

I wince. I want to deny, to lie and bluster and reject the notion that I did that. But that’s exactly what I did, and defensiveness will get me nowhere. “You’re right.”

I’m having a moment of self-reflection, but Danielle pulls me out, saying, “I’m just curious, though. Do you still have a crush on me? I see the way you’re looking at me, you know.”

All my awkwardness snaps right back into place. “I– I wouldn’t– I’m not going to– And you’re with Brian–”

“I know,” she laughs at me, “You’re not the type. You’ve always been too honest for your own good. I just was wondering. Plus you’re kinda adorable when you’re blushing.” And with that she springs up and flits away, back into the recesses of her apartment.

I stay seated on her couch like a fool, forced to be alone with my own thoughts. I can hear her humming a little melody to herself. A door closes, the shower starts up. I stare at the wall where she is.

The memories resurface, bludgeon me with their cruelty. Memories of the impossibly cute girl with which I had a private obsession for years until I publicly announced it and made myself into a laughingstock. It’s not the reason I left town, keeping in touch with only a small handful of friends, just enough so they knew I was still alive, but it certainly helped. I was hoping my folly would be forgotten, not come smacking me in the face. I retreat to the bedroom Brian’s set me in. His desk’s in the corner, and I push his stuff out of the way and set my laptop out and dive headfirst into the sweet escape of a game. I know myself, know that my brain will in the background work out answers to my problems while ostensibly concentrating on building out a complex system of factories and resources and production.

And that’s what I’m doing when I hear Danielle’s voice from just over my shoulder quietly saying, “Hey.”

She’s sneaked up on me, though surely not on purpose, and I bolt up in my seat and whip around. “Oh, hey, hi. What’s… oh… um…”

Danielle’s right close to me, standing there skin flush and soft fresh from having showered, bronze hair dried and loose and flowing like I remember her, wearing a tight and low-cut white camisole with strings over her shoulders. The fabric’s thin and tight, clinging to her considerable breasts, and her nipples show where they poke through. Grinning mischievously, she looks down at herself as if to track my gaze. “I’m not distracting you, am I?”

“Danielle…” Is all I can manage, trying not to stare and failing horribly.

She twists at the ankles, tits swinging side to side in my face. “I’d hate to throw off your game.”

I don’t know what’s happening here, but my game is forgotten. The words come out as an exhalation, “You’re so hot.”

“Thanks,” she chirps cheerfully, “But I’m with B, you know. I’m not going to cheat.”

I gasp. “No! I didn’t mean–”

She laughs at me. “Of course you didn’t. But what’s the harm in ogling, right? You just want to dream, have a little fantasy about fucking your old friend’s girlfriend? Because you’re not the type to actually do that, are you Tyler? You don’t have the balls, even if B won’t be home for another four hours yet, would never even know. What do you think of my pants?”

I look down. “You’re not wearing any,” I say aloud only as the realization dawns. Her panties are a girlish pink and ride high over her hips, cupping her mound in a way that makes my mouth water. Why is she doing this to me? She never used to even flirt with me, let alone… whatever this is.

“Oh, you’re right. I must’ve forgotten them. Silly me.”

“Danielle!” I say, managing to drag my eyes back up to her face. She’s done herself up with dark eyeliner and sparkling lip gloss and other things too subtle for me to point out but which all add up to the sexiest version of her I’ve ever seen.

“Yes?” she says innocently.

But I don’t know what I was going to say. And I don’t know what I’m going to do, either. She’s with my old friend Brian, and him and I aren’t the closest anymore, but to sleep with his girlfriend? Although, who am I kidding? Even if she weren’t with Brian, Danielle’s not the type who’d ever stoop to fucking a guy like me. A hot girl like her can get anyone she wants, she can do so much better than me. She’s surely just making fun of me, teasing me, torturing me for daring to even have a crush on her in the first place.

“I was thinking,” she says, “Maybe I would masturbate. That’s not something you’d want to watch, is it?”

I find my jaw dropping, my breathing halted.

“Do do you think I should jill myself off right here, on your bed?” But she’s already sitting back onto the mattress, spreading her legs. While staring me in the eye her hand slips down over her chest and belly and hips and slides beneath the hem of her panties. “There’s a time and a place for sex, but there’s something primal about touching yourself, wouldn’t you agree? Especially if you’ve got someone watching, right, Tyler?”

Hearing her say my name shocks me back into reality, reminds me that I’m actually present for this and not an invisible voyeur. “Do it,” my lips hiss.

“Yes, sir!” she giggles. Her hand stretches out her panties, fingers bent over her clit, lips parting and cheeks warming. She takes a deep breath, making her tits swell in their fabric. “I have a confession, though, Tyler. Something I have to admit to you.”

“What?” I choke out.

“I got started earlier, in the shower.” She’s all of a sudden deadly serious. Severe, in a seductive way. “We’ve got one of those massage showerheads on a handle, and I set it between my legs and had it work my pussy for a good five, ten minutes. I was so fucking turned on, I couldn’t help myself.”

I’m breathing hard now, too, and as I adjust in the chair, shifting my ass on the seat, like a flash of light I glance down and see that my dick is fantastically stiff and pressing out rudely against my jeans.

Danielle’s grin returns as she tracks my gaze. “You want to show it to me, Tyler? Seeing a nice, hard cock always helps me get off.” Her fingers swirl around in tight little circles, tugging against her panties, pressing into the sweet heat of her pussy. A lip sneaks out from under the hemline, pink and wet.

I stare, needing her, too cowardly to take her.

“Are you shy, Tyler?” she taunts me, “How often do you masturbate? Oh, wait, have you ever thought about me while masturbating? You have, haven’t you?”

My chin is moving up and down. It’s a nod, an admission at least I can suffer.

Her fingers rub and her hips gyrate and her tits bounce and she’s so close to me, right in my face, so close I could reach out and touch her. But I don’t. “That’s so hot,” she says, “Knowing that you’re cumming just thinking about me. That’s a lot of power. Show me, Tyler. Whip it out, give it a little yank in my honor.” When a beat passes without reaction from me, she continues, “Please? I can see your fucking boner in your pants, I know you’re hard as fuck. Just show me it to me.”

“But–”

“Just show it, Tyler. Unzip your pants and pull your dick out.” Her words have lost their gentle edge, are not suggestions.

I reach down, unzip my pants, and pull my dick out. I’m breathing fast and nervous, awaiting her inevitable cruel judgment and brash dismissal of my cock.

And it arrives on cue. “Fuck, Ty. Why are you shy with that thing in your pants? That thing’s fucking… mmpphh… hnnnggg…”

Wait… what? She’s staring at my erection, spreading her legs wider and rubbing herself and moaning and licking her lips.

“Fuck,” she says again, panting, gasping, “Pull on it.”

I’m too timid to jerk myself in front of any audience, let alone Danielle, but this situation is … different. Her moans seem real. So I grip myself and start stroking. My eyes flit up, find her rapt with interest, and before I can think about it, I’m saying, “Show me your pussy.”

Danielle’s fingers curl around the fabric of her panties and tug it to the side. And them I’m staring, mouth watering. Her pussy’s tight, hot, oozing with arousal. The girl is truly getting herself off, not just putting on a show but actually masturbating. Her fingers slide up inside herself and her back arches and it’s all I can do to not reach out and grab those tits bouncing around in the white camisole.

“I’m so ready for your fat cock. You used to cum just thinking about my pussy, didn’t you?”

“I used to cum thinking about your tits.” I’m rubbing my cock in time with her fingers, keeping pace flick for flick.

“These?” She cups her rack, thumbs a nipple through her shirt.

I lick my lips I need her so bad. “Fuck,” I mutter, feeling myself quickly rise right to the edge. I could pop right now, but I pull back, and I’m just able to stop myself.

“I saw that,” she giggles, “I bet you end up cumming before I do.”

“Hey now,” I bristle, “You’re the one who started masturbating in front of a guy who has a crush on you. And don’t lie that you’re not thirsty as fuck for my dick.” Who am I saying these things? Who am I jerking myself off in front of Danielle?

“Finally finding your fuckin’ balls, huh?” As her legs spread farther, her hand picks up in tempo, fluttering with quickening pace. Her breathing and the swaying of her body and arching of her back all build alongside, and she rolls back onto a shoulder and blows loose strands of hair out of her face before gritting her teeth and groaning.

I stroke along with her, riding the edge. “I don’t think I ever realized how fucked up you really are, Danielle,” I say, getting my footing, gathering the rare bit of confidence. “I used to think you were so sweet, this innocent-but-hot girl who needed to be shielded from the evils of this world. But you’re not, are you? You’re just as fucked up as everyone else. Maybe even more so.”

“So’s that mean you don’t like me any more?” Arousal oozes from her sex, drips down her ass. The air runs thick with her scent.

“Just makes you fuckin’ hotter.” I grab my cock at the base and give her a show, swaying side to side my swollen member.

She moans, “Fuck.” Staring at my dick and panting heavier and heavier, she mutters under her breath, almost as if she’s talking to herself, “You’re so fuckin’ hard. So fuckin’ hard…”

I shake my head. “You’re such a brat. Look how thirsty you are. We’re not even alone together an hour and already you’re shoving your pussy in my face, dreaming about riding my dick. You want to drink my cum, don’t you Danielle? You’re craving my dick, so desperate to drain my balls you’re orgasming just thinking about it.”

“I’m not orgasming,” she says. But her clenched teeth and eyes rolling back in her head and tensing limbs and quivering thighs and twitching shoulders say otherwise. And then there’s her spasming pussy and the long low pained groan she’s begun making. Her hand giving her pussy a vigorous rub stops just as suddenly, pulling her lips tight and pressing down onto her ridge. As her sex pulsates, heat trickles from her, dripping over her clenching asshole. Danielle’s face is screwed up with pleasure, such a hot look, and when she forces her eyes open its to glare at me under heavy lids. “You haven’t cum yet?”

I stand, towering over this climaxing girl, and point my dick at her face, stroking for all I’m worth. “Gonna give you an up-close view.”

She gasps, whispers, “Fuckin’ do it.”

And then I’m doing it, I’m jacking off on Danielle’s face. The spunk shoots out in a thick white rope, the heaviest I’ve ever cum, spraying Danielle directly in the eye. A second rope is quick to join the first, and then a third and fourth and fifth. Danielle’s face is soon dripping with my sticky seed, and as more and more comes, it runs onto her collar and tits.

Sucking down air, I look at her, reality smacking me in the face. I am shocked at my own handiwork.

She’s shocked too, and even offended I think, at first, but her frown melts into a smile and she starts laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Oh, fuck, that was hot,” she says, her fingers once again massaging her pussy.

I watch, still wondering what it’d feel like to shove my dick up inside her. But as my erection fades, I get an idea. “Scoop some of my cum onto your fingers,” I instruct her, “Use it as lube.”

She says nothing, but the way she’s looking at me, I’m pretty sure she’d do anything I say. And watching her massage my cum into her clit only confirms my suspicion.

“Show me your tits,” I next instruct.

“Go fuck yourself.”

So much for that. “Just did, thank you.” Only I laugh at my joke. And then I add, “You going to tell Brian?”

“You fucking kidding me? You know, he’s not the friend you think he is. Has no respect for you anymore. He was talking so much shit about you, about how much of a loser he thinks you are. You want my advice? Forget about him. Cut your losses.”

I’m blinking, head still in a horny daze, looking down at Danielle half-naked and covered in my cum. This is no way to have a serious conversation. I try anyway. “Is that why you did this?”

She scoffs. “This…” she looks around the room, “You come back into my life after five years, still so obviously with a thing for me. I don’t understand it. But I think that B knows it, and it’s the whole reason he’s letting you stay here, not telling you that I’m living here with him. He wanted to torment you, to see you suffer. He can be a real asshole that way. Here, help me up, I need to shower again. No, come with me. And I… I don’t know. You were always a sweetheart, when you weren’t a moron I mean. And you’re out there, making something of yourself. I respect that. Maybe even envy it. I think B and the others are just jealous, is why they do shit like this. And I just didn’t want you to. To suffer, I mean. I don’t know. It wasn’t the most thought-out plan, I just didn’t want B to win. I shoulda guessed, you’re too good to cheat, though. I think I’m done here.”

I’ve followed her into the bathroom and watched her wash her hands and get the shower running and dutifully turned around while she stripped and now she’s stepped behind the frosted glass and into the streaming water. “But you just got in?” I say.

“No, dumbass. Not done with the shower. Done with B. This relationship. I won’t spoil Mark and Cindy’s wedding, but afterwards, a day or two later, I’ll dump him.”

“Oh,” I say, “I, um, think I really should get a hotel… um.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Probably. Sorry for bringing you into my mess. Don’t take me seriously, Tyler. I’ve promised to dump B before but, obviously, haven’t. Hey, you haven’t really been harboring a crush on me for, like, all these years, have you?”

“No,” I say, “I don’t think so, at least. It all just came… rushing back in, I guess, when I saw you again. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You could do so much better than a girl like me, anyway, you know,” she says, something of a conclusion, since neither of us has anything more to say. After a few minutes of silence I drift away, letting her finish her shower while going to pack away the few things I had unpacked.

Near Danielle and Brian’s apartment, just outside the center of town, is a cheap motel, the neon sign advertising a pool but the pool being dry. The room is simple and drab. I go to Mark’s wedding alone and it’s of course a reunion with all these old faces from my past who smile to my face and act happy to see me, although with Danielle’s forewarning I see through their phoniness. I congratulate Mark and Cindy and catch up with some others, learning that they’re still hanging with the same old people and doing all the same old things and working the same old dead-end jobs, but now with drugs. Danielle I spy from across the room, hanging at Brian’s side, looking like the least happy couple there. And even though I see her glancing my way, we keep our distance from one another. By the time the wedding formalities end and the dance floor opens up it has sunk in how little I have left in common with this old crowd, and I slip out early and go back to my motel room. Without any family left in town, I can’t help but think it’ll be the last time I come back here or see any of these people. Except, somehow, some way, Danielle. Although I can’t suss up exactly how to make that happen.

It’s an hour before midnight and I’m on my laptop deep into my factory planning when there’s a gentle rapping of knuckles against the door of my motel room. I nearly jump out of my skin.

And when I swing the door open, I’m confused. “Uh, Danielle?”

“When you leave, can you take me with you?” She’s still in the evening gown she was wearing to the wedding, a long and slender maroon piece with deep cleavage and a high slit. It’s somewhere between elegant and trashy.

“Isn’t the wedding still going? How did you find me?” I feel like a total schlub in comparison, having long since changed into cozy sweatpants.

“The front desk guy,” she says, shrugging towards the motel’s lobby, “That’s my cousin. Let me in. It’s cold out here.”

I step aside, and she slips past me. I peer out into the parking lot, but it’s deserted. “What’re you doing here? Are you here alone?”

She’s sitting on the bed. It’s still got the blanket on from when housekeeping made it, a bland floral quilt that looks older than I am. “I broke up with him,” she says, “We got in a fight and I just… I just told him we were done. He was pretty pissed. It’s for real this time, though. It feels different.”

“Oh,” I say, standing there like an idiot, eyes wide, no idea what to do.

“My friend drove me over here, but I wouldn’t tell her why.”

“I see,” I say, not seeing.

She looks up at me, makeup smeared, eyes dry. “Get over here.”

“Oh,” I say again, thankful for the instruction. And then I’m sitting next to her and she kisses me and takes my hand and puts it on her left tit. My hand understands, fondling her. She’s aggressive, pushing into me, her tongue guiding mine. She tastes like tequila. I wrap a hand through her hair, pull her into me. She kicks her shoes away and with a twist, I’m on my back and she’s on top of me, her tits in my face as she reaches down and pulls her panties off. “Oh boy,” I add.

“You’re going to fuck me this time, right, Ty?”

I have never gotten naked so quick in my life.

With her gown bunched up around her waist, she rides me like a beast uncaged, tits swinging and bouncing and jiggling in my groping hands, hips thrusting as she impales herself on my raging erection over and over again. She’s a little drunk and a little sweaty and she lets her hair down to swing around her shoulders and I’m staring at her slack-jawed as we fuck.

“What?” she says, taking me in to the hilt, “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“You’re beautiful,” I admit.

“Fuck, don’t make me regret this.” But she’s smiling. “How do you want to finish? Behind me?”

“Like we are.”

“Works for me,” she grins, riding me like a girl possessed. Each time she slides down my cock her pussy grips me anew and her ass presses against my balls and her weight rests on my hips like she belongs there. When she shudders with pleasure I absorb it into me, skin against skin. My hands are full of her tits and I moan when she moans and gasp when she gasps and fuck her as she fucks me. “You keep looking at me like that,” she says, panting, blowing a strand of hair away, “I’m liable to think you’ve got a thing for me.”

“I’ve got the biggest thing for you.”

“Well, maybe not the biggest,” she giggles, wiggling her hips, “But it’s definitely a nice one. Definitely–” she groans “–hits the fucking spot.”

She’s so sexy, with her smooth skin and supple limbs and gentle curves and heavy tits. But as always, it’s the way she makes me feel totally comfortable — completely myself — that really does it for me.

“Oh, fuck, Tyler,” she gapes, “You’re cumming.”

“I’m cumming,” I agree, muscles so taut the words almost squeak as they pass through my throat. I’m holding her tight, pinching her against my tensed self, cumming deep inside her. The spunk pumps from me like a deluge, filling her pussy as it grips me dry, smearing down the sides of my shaft.

“You shoulda said something.”

“I’m cumming,” I repeat, weakly.

“I had something special planned.”

“Next time,” I whimper.

“So you think there’s going to be a next time?”

But she’s grinning, so I pull her down until she’s pressed up tight and kissing me. When our lips break for breath, she nestles in, head against my bare chest. I don’t know what this is, but it feels good, and she seems to like it too, so I push off my worries for a different day. Some anonymous machine in the building clicks off and a buzzing I didn’t even know was there becomes conspicuous in its absence, leaving me with the quiet sounds of Danielle and me just living.

“Can we get beneath the sheets?” she says, “It’s cold.”

I set the room up for sleep while she slips into the restroom, and when she returns her gown is gone, makeup off, and she looks completely fabulous. Like it’s the most everyday thing, she climbs into bed and snuggles up to me, body against body, cheek against cheek. She hums, says, “Mmm… this feels good.”

“I don’t know if you were serious or not,” I say, arms wrapped around her warm, soft nakedness, “But I’m leaving this place in the morning. And never coming back.”

She picks her head up, looks down at me. Her hair frames her, dimly lit from the motel sign’s neon glow filtering through the old curtains. “You wouldn’t actually take me with you, would you?”

“Why not?”

“Because… we just reconnected two days ago after not a single word in five years? Because you don’t need to get mixed up in my drama? Because I’m the stupid and impulsive one and you’re supposed to be better than that?”

I consider. “You’re not stupid. But those are otherwise good points. Except the thing you’re missing, though.”

“What? What am I missing?”

“I want more sex.”

Her grin is toothy, coming down on her bottom lip. “That can be arranged.” Her hand finds my cock. It’s already hard.