Untucked, but Not Unfucked

The week turns out to be not as boring as Mirage imagined. While everyone works for the community, she works for the staff. Andreas flits between his duties and the bed, handling the latter perfectly and probably messing up the former. He hasn’t fetched any more alcohol, citing being busy with work. Well, Mirage isn’t an alcoholic, so it’s not a problem. Or is it a problem? On one of the hot little evenings, an interesting idea comes to her. “Listen, darling,” she says, pinning him to the table with her cock. Andreas responds vaguely, burying his forehead in the table. “You’re so generous. Won’t you give me one more present?” “Yes,” he drags out, either answering or reacting to the changed pace. “Everyone’s got a day off soon, but I want to hang out with my girlfriends.” Andreas is close. “It’s hard to really relax on an empty stomach. You know that perfectly well.” He hums something indistinctly. “We’re grown-up girls, and one bottle of champagne won’t be enough. Can you get something stronger?” “Yes! Yes!” now he’s definitely not answering the question, judging by the piercing moans. His colleagues aren’t completely clueless, right? No one else like him around here. “Excellent!” well, if he said “yes,” that counts as an answer. The next day, he hands her a bottle of bourbon. As they say, better than nothing. She wonders if the pair will even agree to drink it. Even if not, the note on the fridge referred to the bottle of wine that’s already gone anyway. She could relax alone. Maybe they’re not even in the mood for alcohol right now. But no one opens the door. Mirage stares ahead, bewildered, realizing she’s been completely tricked. Alright, they’ll come back later. Andreas also has a day off today. Unlike her friend, he opens the door instantly and spreads a satisfied grin. Don’t get cocky, buddy. I’m not sleeping with you today. It’s strictly a girls’ day for me. The guy doesn’t read that from her face and habitually pulls her toward the bed. Alright, handsome. A little fondling is allowed today, she thinks. After several long minutes of kissing and groping, Andreas impatiently reaches for his zipper, but Mirage skillfully intercepts his hand and returns it to her waist. “What?” he murmurs, trying to pull away from her lips. She straightens, still sitting on his thighs. “It’s your day off today. Let your ass rest.” “But it’s already…” “Andreas, don’t insist,” she says, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Well, let me at least jer…” “You can handle that perfectly fine without me.” “And if I…” “Enough! You’re really getting carried away today. I could leave.” “No, don’t,” the assistant whispers. “Then shut up.” Mirage makes another attempt to reach Nymphia, but once again hits a dead end. We had a deal, for fuck’s sake! She doesn’t have the energy to go anywhere anymore. Sitting in the hallway will do. After half an hour, any hope of her friend showing up fades. The bottle unpleasantly burns her palm. Maybe I should drop by one of the other girls? But I’d have to bring the bottle with me — what if they take it away? Mirage is a persistent girl. After spending some time with the other contestants — and, let’s be honest, not really satisfying her craving for company — she heads back to that cursed door once again. Silence. Again. Fine, Andreas, you win. Must’ve turned to black magic and jinxed my luck. Deal with yourself tonight, then. The next day, Nymphia finally opens the door. She looks worn out, with a couple of hickeys decorating her neck. Alright, stupid questions about yesterday are off the table. She immediately notices the bottle in Mirage’s hand and lets out a low whistle. “Didn’t you find anything lighter?” “Nope,” Mirage shrugs. “Oh well, we’ll mix cocktails. Let’s just wait for Plane. And for now, we can find something to entertain ourselves.” Nymphia pulls a gigantic suitcase out of the closet and flips it open. Mirage joins in, examining the contents. A bunch of T‑shirts. Almost all the same color — guess which one. Some magazines. Do people still read those? A sewing kit??? And familiar little bottles. Actually, I was hoping for a different kind of entertainment. Nymphia calmly transfers the last items into a small bag nearby, then digs a deck of cards out of the suitcase. “Bet I’ll kick your ass,” she exclaims excitedly. “No chance!” Mirage snorts. “You’re talking to a seasoned gambler. No one’s ever managed to outplay me.” Mirage lost for the eleventh time in a row. On the twelfth, Plane burst into the room. Nymphia’s emotions overflowed. Mushy-pushy, all that. Time to bring them down a notch, she thought. Mirage began complaining about the previous day’s mess, carefully skipping the part with Andreas, and watched the couple’s guilty faces. Such silly girls… makes me want to tease them a little, she thought. Plane at first reacted negatively to the presence of alcohol in the room, but evidently, her Russian roots had something to say, and the wall began to crumble. This time, she didn’t stay silent; she actively joined the chatter, occasionally staring at Nymphia. I want to do that too! But today, it wasn’t meant to happen. Mirage, drunk, started crashing. She didn’t even make it to the couch. And why should she? The floor served perfectly. Though later, she felt hands on her, and beneath her — something hard. As if she had been dropped onto rocky ground. The sensations mingled with sleep, and now she truly found herself in a forest clearing, in the heated embrace of Thomas, another assistant who had apparently been trying to impress her for a while. He pressed his slight frame against her, one she could easily have overpowered in a second. But she had no desire to move at all. Thomas grins at having full control, and, deftly squatting, he begins to ride her cock with satisfaction. A quiet moan drifts as if from another reality. Everything, really, feels somehow unreal. Mirage doesn’t even manage to notice when they both come, and she feels him next to her. Fatigue washes over her, like she’s spent the entire evening working in the club. She turns to hug him, draping an arm over him. He groans discontentedly and slips out from under her. The rest of the events passed in a haze. She ran from RuPaul, played checkers with Nymphia, and even searched a pet store for a puppy. In the morning, she finally came to her senses and realized that both the passionate embraces and the furious RuPaul had only been a dream. Phew…, she exhaled with relief. The last thing I needed was another attempt to get myself a pet. The last one had been taken by her sister, because Mirage had been so busy she’d completely forgotten it existed. But Thomas had been hot… Maybe I should invite him over? Clearly, she was not in her own room. The pile of stuff on the floor suggested that she hadn’t even made it back to her room yesterday. But where was the actual owner of the room? Ah, there she was. Nymphia burst in with a swollen face and wrinkled clothes. Some people clearly had a better night. But it was fixable. Okay, where’s Thomas?