Untucked, but Not Unfucked

It seems the lovebirds aren’t doing very well. They skulk past each other in the corridor. Mirage doesn’t even dare to approach, not wanting to get in the way. She definitely doesn’t want to get caught underfoot. Andreas greets her with a nod every time he sees her. But he doesn’t insist on a date. Looks like he already satisfied his needs. Thomas, she spots by the window, chewing a sandwich and trying to blend into the wall. But he’s still a good distance away, so hiding isn’t an option. “How’s it going, buddy?” Mirage calls, making the assistant turn. He mumbles, trying to finish his snack quickly so he can keep talking. Mirage waits patiently. “Hi, Mirage. Long time no see.” “That’s easy to fix,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m all for it,” the boy mutters, wiping his hands on his pants. Mirage snorts disapprovingly. “How about tomorrow? Are you free?” “Sweetheart, do they respect you at work?” Mirage frowns. “Well, I guess…” he answers uncertainly. “I have my doubts.” Thomas blinks in surprise. “Damn, they kicked me out almost two weeks ago!” she says, tapping her temple. “Oh, right…” the assistant smiles awkwardly. “You’re so amazing, I thought you were still at the show.” “And why would I be running around here then? The filming is happening now.” Damn, she got paired with such an idiot! “Exactly!” Thomas jumps. “I mixed things up a bit. Got caught up at work, you know. Didn’t even have time to eat.” “Then get some food, and I’ll, fine, come visit you. Drinks are encouraged too.” “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he nods with a tired smile. “Really did get overworked. But don’t get too comfortable, handsome — you won’t get a break with me.” Thomas turns out to be a courteous guy. However, Mirage seems to have been right when she asked about respect among colleagues. He hasn’t been able to get any alcohol, so there were almost no meal breaks, and by evening he’s exhausted, like a squeezed lemon. On the next day off, Plane shows up. She looks, to put it mildly, displeased. And what brings you here, I wonder? Mirage doesn’t hold back the question and hears a grumpy answer, “I’m hopeless.” “Really?” Mirage isn’t sure if it’s a question or a statement. Plane ignores her — she probably just needs to vent. “You promised you’d give me hell if I upset Nymphia.” “Really?” this time it’s definitely a question. Mirage doesn’t remember her saying that. Plane ignores her again. “Of course, I'm against violence, but I'm ready to handle a stream of cursing,” Plane continues. “I'm not even swearing,” Mirage lies, for some unclear reason. “Then start!” Plane plants her hands on her hips. “This is turning into a dumb conversation,” Mirage remarks. “Tell me everything first, and then we'll figure out what to do with you.” And then Plane breaks. Her story about unworthy behavior toward Nymphia, spiced with curses in a foreign language, comes out jumbled, but Mirage catches the gist. Nymphia has fallen head over heels and completely forgot why she came here. Plane tries to split herself between the competition and her feelings for Nymphia. Nymphia gets offended because Plane is competing with her and insists that Plane doesn’t love her at all. Plane, standing like a statue, can’t explain anything. How stupid, but damn, how romantic! “So, basically, we made up yesterday. She doesn’t seem mad. Don’t come over to us this weekend…” “You’re going to discuss your problems?” Mirage asks innocently. Plane smirks. “We’re gonna fuck, damn it.” “Ah…” Mirage stretches. “Then what are you doing here? You can’t kick me out of my room, you know.” “We don’t really need your room. Nymphia is plotting something in mine. Preparing some kind of surprise.” “Well, a surprise is good. Don’t you want a little drink for courage?” And she points with her eyes at the bottle of wine Andreas brought out of old friendship. By the way, they haven’t had sex since. So you could say he kind of blessed their fling with Thomas. “No way I’m drinking!” Plane protests. “Scared it won’t rise?” Mirage teases. “Don’t judge people by yourself!” Plane snaps and deliberately turns away. “Wasn’t that eager to share with you anyway,” Mirage stretches. “I need it myself.” She pours the wine into the porcelain cup Thomas gave her as a souvenir. She drinks and smacks her lips in delight. “Where do you get all these bottles?” Plane continues, astonished. “When you have reliable connections, the whole world is at your command!” “Hold on, let me write these genius words in my little memory notebook.” And she laughs. “Tell me, who have you already fucked here?” Mirage shares all the details with relish, and Plane gets seriously worked up. It’s about time to hand her over to Nymphia. With the same thought, Plane looks at the clock and shouts, “Oh, I gotta go!” leaving Mirage behind. Not wanting to seem pushy, Mirage waits for a message from Thomas and doesn’t plan to leave the room. But an hour later, instead of the assistant, Nymphia shows up at the door. Without a word, she walks to the table and empties the cup, which still has a portion of the gifted drink. “You… already came? Oops, I mean… finished?” Mirage wonders. “So you already know?” Nymphia smirks. “You mean what?” it’s about time, Mirage, to stop playing dumb. “Don’t tell me you have no idea where I came from.” “Well, I know,” she admits. “So… how did it go? Successful?” “She seemed to like it,” Nymphia sinks onto the couch and pulls a deck of cards from her pocket. “And you?” Mirage asks, surprised. “That doesn’t count,” Nymphia waves her hand and starts dealing. “I promised to please her, and I kept my word.” “Wait, I don’t get the joke. Plane rants because she, all clumsy, got carried away acting like a winner and totally ignored you. And now you’re pleasing her? What kind of stupid games are these?” “But still… kinda enviable!” “Without a shot or two, you won’t figure this out.” Mirage once again dives into the twists and turns of her friends’ relationships, sighing enviously. She notices that Nymphia really needs to get a grip and not get hooked on Plane’s antics. Then the conversation turns to Mirage’s escapades, and the day ends with them watching a series together. During the week, Mirage realizes it’s been a while since she had sex. She finds Thomas again, this time in some storage closet. He’s trying to fix a constantly falling board and looking for something. “Hey, Tom,” Mirage smiles. Without a word, he pulls her into the closet and checks the hallway. Mirage feels the ill-fated board pressing against her. “Of course, I’m all for variety in bed, but I’m not going to fuck you in a storage closet,” she declares. Thomas turns his head. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. The boss is around. If he catches us together, I’ll be out of here in a flash. And you might get in trouble too.” “And how long are we stuck here?” Mirage finally manages to prop the board properly against the wall. “He should be heading to the meeting in about twenty minutes. You’ll have to hang out here.” “Fine. But I’m not going to just stand like a statue. Close the door.” Thomas obeys, and they find themselves in complete darkness. The boy reaches for Mirage, who’s half a head taller than him, and immediately meets her lips. To make sure the boss doesn’t catch them, they spend the next half hour just hugging and making out like snotty school kids. As usual, Thomas has no booze, and Mirage, though she has already resigned herself to that, still lays the assistant on the bed with a hint of disappointment. From anticipation, his pathetic uniform looks ready to burst around the pants. Mirage rips them off and grabs his cock over the underwear. The boy exhales. He isn’t as vocal as Andreas. Maybe no one even notices. Thomas shifts impatiently while Mirage jerks him off, keeping his underwear on. She wants to tease him a little for making her wait in the supply room for half an hour. Lips… damn them… they hurt now. And they’ll still be useful today. Finally, Mirage stops tormenting the assistant, especially since her own erection is impatient to be freed from the confines of tight jeans. While she strips off her clothes, Thomas manages to pull down his underwear and get on all fours. Why is everyone so undersexed! If it weren’t for me… Mirage jumps onto the bed and, spreading the boy’s halves apart, presses herself to his hole. She is too eager to prepare him personally and… apply her own hand! Oh, I mean, mouth. Thomas whines quietly into his fist, feeling the nimble tongue of his bedmate exploring him. She licks him so thoroughly he risks embarrassment like a schoolboy. So he stays stoic and silent, waiting. A playful finger soon joins the tongue, and Thomas moves involuntarily toward Mirage. “Wait a sec,” his ass feels empty again. “I’m not a bulldog to have this much spit. We don’t need problems.” The assistant patiently waits while Mirage reaches for the tube Thomas got from some colleague and finishes preparing him for a passionate night. Or day. Or maybe night too. Finally, he gets what he wants, and it overflows inside him. Sounds quite suggestive, doesn’t it? No matter how much Mirage misses sex, she doesn’t want to traumatize the boy. So she takes her time. But then the fun begins. Things get hot — whatever it’s called. And no one can stop her now. Not literally, of course.