Untucked, but Not Unfucked

The Andreas situation repeats itself. Mirage has thoroughly fucked Thomas, leaving him struggling with his work duties. She decides to leave him alone for a while before he completely burns out. The next weekend arrives — it’s time to check whether the couple has completely fallen out. Nymphia greets her with the now-familiar deck of cards. Why does she always win? Maybe they’re marked? Either way, I have to beat her! Plane bursts into the room carrying a cake and an angry expression. Well, what now? Even Nymphia can’t hold back and tells her exactly what she thinks. Plane unexpectedly goes quiet and humbly joins the meal that started without her. Cake is nice, of course, but where the hell is the booze??? Mirage immediately dismisses that thought, remembering how she can get some here. The couple hasn’t wasted any time during the week. Plane has stepped over her own ego and, with a risky decision, proved her love. Wow, you’re fast! Three weeks and already saying such grown-up words. I want that too! But you two, girlfriends, still have a lot of work to do. Apparently, a ridiculous idea comes to Nymphia’s mind: to tease Plane. She grabs Mirage’s hands, rests her head on her shoulder — basically acting like a little brat. Not jealous, Plane. She’ll show you soon enough. But Mirage also needs to look out for herself. She knows how Plane looks when she’s angry, and she doesn’t want to catch any of that. Gradually, Plane’s face relaxes, and Nymphia stops clinging so aggressively to Mirage. These mating games again! How shameless, using me like this! I want to play like that with someone too! Half the cake is gone, but Plane keeps sneaking glances at it. Well, if you’re not full, then just eat! Nobody here will judge you. But what if she didn’t bring it for eating? Nymphia is already openly wriggling on Plane’s lap, paying no attention to Mirage. Watching this bacchanal, Mirage feels like running far away — she didn’t sign up for this. “I think I’ll go,” she says, standing up with a cough. Nymphia doesn’t even look back, hugging Plane around the neck. “Want to take some cake with you?” she offers. Well, for a change, a little breakfast with something sweet wouldn’t hurt. But as soon as Mirage is about to voice the thought, she meets Plane’s angry glare. Yeah, I get it, you wanted to use the cake for something else. “Thanks, I’ve had enough,” Mirage says, and runs out of the room. Boring. So boring. Two more weeks stuck here. Movies don’t excite her anymore, the food delivered to her room tastes bad, and there’s nothing to talk about with the girls who left. If she were allowed to leave, she’d be hitting bars and having fun like crazy. But here, not even normal guys, and no booze. Andreas and Thomas are, of course, great in bed, but she wants a bigger catch. And fate decides to throw her a little something she wants. Mirage plans to visit a nice girl named Xunami, who somehow irritates Nymphia. But her plans go down the drain when she hears a stream of choice curses coming from the corridor. Strange. Assistants usually move silently, like ghosts in a cemetery. But here, there are almost shouts — though somehow they’re trying to keep them in check. Any normal person would have stepped away from the door and stayed out of other people’s business. But this is Mirage. She cautiously pokes her head into the corridor and watches a man, apparently the local boss, motion the workers to disappear from sight. He doesn’t notice the curious observer until he finally exhales in fatigue and lifts his eyes. Before Mirage stands a lean young man, around thirty-five. And this is the boss? “Who do we have here?” he asks, cocking his hip. “Don’t you know?” Mirage smirks and steps out of the room, closing the door behind her. “Oh,” she jumps. “How do I get back now?” Mirage — is this on purpose, or have you completely lost your mind? The man shakes his head. “Pretty girl, you’re not allowed to leave the room’s territory.” “Well, I did leave. Because of you, by the way,” she adds. The man sighs. “Guess I’ll have to punish you.” “You? Me?” Mirage grins. “Are you sure you’re not mixing things up, sweetheart?” And she grabs him by the tie. And yes, he’s wearing one — along with a proper suit. A little much, Mirage notes. The boss calmly watches her and waits. “Get me the key,” Mirage whispers, pulling him close to touch her lips to his ear. “Then we’ll see who does what.” “I agree,” the man draws out lazily. “You’re the one they call Mirage, right?” Mirage’s eyes widen. Could it be that her careless lovers have been blabbing about their escapades? “I’ve heard of you,” he nods, as if confirming Mirage’s suspicions. “It’s been ages since filming started, yet there are still some people upset about your expulsion.” Someone actually cares about me?? she wonders. Yes, Mirage. All that running around with your friends and whining about your miserable fate isn’t for nothing. Suggestion — your middle name. “And what’s your name, Superman?” “Curtis,” he answers, gently freeing himself from her grasp. “Alright, Curtis. I give you ten minutes. Don’t make it — and I won’t be responsible for myself.” This Curtis doesn’t have some shabby little room — it’s a full two-room suite. Not bad living, buddy. The minibar holds a whole collection of whiskey. On the table, there are salads and hot dishes. Wish you’d done this sooner, Mirage! Slowpoke then, slowpoke forever. He gallantly invites her to the table and explains that the dinner was delivered by a nearby restaurant. A reliable place. He eats there himself. So she has nothing to worry about. And she doesn’t. Everything spins around her, like a puppy. Another half-satisfied boy? Maybe write a petition to management from the assistants, asking to assign skilled active boys during filming? Then no one would have to shout. Everyone wins. She can’t handle everyone herself. And she’s not a volunteer here, anyway. No, she’s not asking for money. Don’t get me wrong. Just let him back in the game. Easy. Curtis himself doesn’t eat. He just stands there, watching Mirage, starved for proper food. She tries not to devour it like a piglet, but it’s hard. The head assistant hands her a glass with whiskey at the bottom, and Mirage immediately downs it. The main thing is not to drink too much. No drunk sex today. And Curtis keeps topping it up. “Alright, cutie,” she says, rising from the chair. “Thanks for the drink, but I’ll take a break for now. You can wrap the rest for me to take with me.” The man nods but doesn’t move. Mirage grabs his chin, making him open his mouth, and goes for it. Well, darling, you’re not getting away until she’s kissed you enough. And that’s going to take a while — Mirage isn’t the type to just pound and fuck immediately. But Curtis doesn’t mind at all. He barely notices when his pants and underwear are pulled down, and his hard-on is already in her skilled hand. Mirage presses his ass against the table while dropping to her knees. Looking up at him, she runs her tongue along the entire length and lingers on the tip, licking and sucking it. Curtis impatiently reaches for the back of her head, but she jerks back. “Hands behind your back! Try to tell me what to do again, and I’ll take all the whiskey and leave. And you won’t see me again! I won’t even come into the hallway!” Yeah, Mirage, sure, you lie, don’t overdo it. The assistant hides his hands behind his back and waits obediently. Finally, Mirage takes his cock fully into her mouth. Working actively with her mouth and helping herself with her hand, she ends up in an unexpected situation. Before she even gets into the rhythm, she feels him pulsing in her mouth, filling her throat with cum. Well, Curtis. Holy shit. “Damn,” Curtis exhales, covering his face with his hands. “Don’t stress, buddy,” Mirage reassures him, wiping the saliva from her mouth and standing up. “Our little party isn’t over yet.” She helps Curtis, still not fully recovered, pull off his shirt. She has one very interesting idea in mind. Moving the plates to the other side of the table, Mirage lays the commander on the surface. “When I said ‘don’t you dare tell me what to do,’ I didn’t mean ‘lie there like a log.’” “Yes, yes,” the man nods. “What do you want me to do?” Mirage pours whiskey into a glass and brings it to Curtis. “You’ve got all this whiskey, and you haven’t shared it with me. That needs fixing. You’re not a teetotaler, are you?” The assistant shakes his head. “Good boy,” she says, and carefully starts pouring the liquid over Curtis’s chest and stomach. Finally, he understands what Mirage expects of him. An interesting way to drink with a companion, indeed. Meanwhile, Mirage presses her lips to the boss’s stomach and gradually moves up to his chest, savoring the whiskey mingled with Curtis’s taste. He moans sensually. Interesting, indeed. Mirage has already dragged three guys into bed (well, she hasn’t quite gotten to the last one yet), and they all moan differently. Andreas screamed like a madman, even though he worried about curious neighbors. Thomas whimpered, sometimes into his fist, sometimes into a pillow, afraid of being heard. Curtis, however, doesn’t restrain himself — he’s the boss, he can do whatever he wants, and he doesn’t yell like someone cut. Ignoring his hard-on, Mirage keeps licking his torso, not missing a single inch coated in whiskey. At the bottom, there’s still a small sip left, and she eagerly downs the glass. “You still didn’t drink with me. But that’s easy to fix.” She lowers herself to him again, trailing her tongue over his lips. He eagerly licks back. “So, how is it? Tasty?” Mirage asks. Curtis leaves her unanswered. Instead, he pulls her closer, letting himself fully savor the taste of the cherished nectar. At the same time, Mirage finds the condoms and the lube she swiped from Nymphia’s suitcase. And before the assistant can even enjoy the drink, he feels his legs thrown over Mirage’s shoulders, her fingers circling around his hole. He twitches involuntarily and releases her. She focuses on prepping Curtis, ignoring his pleas to just fuck him already.Yeah, damn it! When was the last time you got laid? Should I just hand out dildos to all of you? The assistant lets out another delicious moan as he feels fingers replaced by a full cock. Maybe Mirage did that well, or maybe the tiniest drop of alcohol hit Curtis just right, but he relaxes completely and lets her slide in almost all the way immediately. “Alright, boss, let’s go.” Good thing there’s more than one condom, because the night promises to be long, and there’s plenty of booze.