Untucked, but Not Unfucked

Filming wraps up. Nymphia swaps contacts with Mirage, and her life slips back into a work routine. Though what kind of routine is this? Constantly new clubs, plenty of free time after performances, and rivers of alcohol. Still, she has to be careful with money. Even though she earned a decent chunk over the past two months, she can’t blow it all at once. Besides, she has to hold out for about a year, and then Drag Race will drop — fame will come, and everything else will follow. Life carries Mirage through a bunch of cities. And everywhere, the boys are so cute and hardworking. Not having a little drink with them would be rude. Some even pay for the pleasure themselves — I mean the booze, just so we’re clear. Finally, the long-awaited moment arrives. She gets the chance to perform in New York. She’s worked there before, more than once, but that was before Drag Race. Hotels always cost a fortune, and she never had a sponsor to cover the stay. Sometimes she scrimped so much that she had to dash out of a “hotel” in heels flashing. And yet, she should’ve paid attention to the non-refundable bookings. She reaches out to Nymphia, and after a couple of messages about the weather, directly asks to crash at her place for three days. Her friend doesn’t hesitate for a second and agrees, and Mirage breathes a sigh of relief. She could’ve asked for just two days, but it’s not all about work. Some time to relax together is in order. Nymphia meets her at the doorstep of a small apartment. The place is cozy — if you ignore the T-shirts, socks, fabric scraps, and random toys scattered around. Mirage exhales, relieved that there’s no food lying on the floor among the mess. Not all is lost. Nymphia generously carves out space for her clothes in the wardrobe, and, dressed up and made up, they head to a nearby bar. The music is great, the drinks are excellent, and Nymphia’s chattering nonstop like a nightingale, talking about recent events and sharing gossip. Mirage glances sideways, sizing up the guys around them. So, two are already taken — just a second ago they stopped shooting each other glances, and now they’re kissing. Another is rambling about some problems to the uninterested crowd — looks like he sneaked away from his wife, with whom he’s been married twenty years, under the pretext of an urgent work meeting. He hasn’t even taken off his tie and keeps adjusting his glasses on his sweaty face. Better not mess with the next one — he’s clearly taken something stronger than booze and is staring at the ceiling with a wide grin. But the other two catch Mirage’s interest more. They’re tossing jokes at each other, but not getting physically close, waiting for someone to bring them together. Mirage is about to try and grab their attention, maybe get them to join her friends, when she suddenly hears a voice in her ear, “Want a drink?” She turns and realizes the handsome guy isn’t even talking to her. And it’s not like he’s addressing anyone else, either — he’s shamelessly looking at Nymphia. Nymphia naïvely nods and introduces herself. Neither of them pays the slightest attention to Mirage, and a surge of rage hits her instantly. Forget it, the guy’s not her type anyway — but Nymphia? She’s chattering away with this jerk as if Mirage doesn’t exist. Her friend gratefully accepts the drink from the macho guy, not interrupting their conversation. The strong back in front of Mirage shakes with laughter — the guy decided to go all in, even reaching toward her elbow. And Nymphia doesn’t mind. But what about Plane? This is the last straw, and to the lively music, Mirage slips between them, wrapping her arms around Nymphia’s shoulders and grinding against the stunned guy. Probably stunned. Mirage can’t see him. But he really is, believe her. Nymphia, surprised to see her friend there, exclaims, “Oh, you’re still here?” Mirage frowns. “Where else do you think I’d be?” She senses guilt in Nymphia’s eyes — and in the hands of the unsuccessful seducer on her ass. “I thought you went to meet those…” Nymphia gestures vaguely. “Right, of course. And left you all alone,” Mirage hisses into her ear. “See that happen again, and I’ll tell Plane everything.” Nymphia nods fearfully, and Mirage lets her go. The stranger’s hands are already on her waist, and he keeps pressing his body against her ass. Sure, go ahead, don’t even try touching the ass. No one’s going to hand her over to you.Mirage spins around and shoves the guy away. He sighs and orders something, shooting her playful glances. He’s not leaving just like that. Damn smooth talker. “You two are hot,” he finally says. “You’re not a couple, right?” he adds cautiously. “No,” Mirage answers firmly. “But don’t come near her. Or her boyfriend will show up (‘How weird that sounds. Plane — boyfriend???’) and you’re done for.” “Got it,” the stranger nods, holding out a shot glass. “And you?” “If you’re ready to bare your ass, I’m totally free.” “Always ready,” the guy winks. “I like it in different ways.” “Well, that’s perfect,” Mirage croaks, tipping back her shot. “And I like to dance.” She grabs Nymphia’s hand and drags her onto the dance floor. The place is packed: some couples, some groups, some just dancing alone. The guy stays at the bar, eyes glued to the girls. Who knows what’s running through his head? But it’s definitely not about innocent dancing. Want to pull someone else into bed? We can make that happen. But it won’t be Nymphia. One of the two cute guys Mirage had already sized up joins the dance. And it blows the guy at the bar’s mind. He’d kind of staked his claim on Mirage, ready to dive into hot embraces, and now some rookie shows up, choosing someone else. It’s like a never-ending circle. Damn it. He has to lift his ass too and pretend he’s having the time of his life dancing. Mirage watches all this and analyzes it pretty calmly. The kid moves well, despite his annoyed expression. Should she ask his name? “Marco,” he introduces himself in a searing whisper. Mirage glances at the second dancer. “Umi.” She says her passport name and steps back to Nymphia. The girl frowns. “Am I imagining it, or are you not worried about my propriety anymore?” she huffs. “Nymphia, look,” Mirage says, rolling her eyes. “Marco’s fiery. He needs a good roasting.” “And what about the little one?” “Well, maybe he can watch… if he wants.” “And me? Where am I supposed to go?” she waves her hands. “My dear, it’s already your bedtime. Go home and don’t wait for me — I’ll be back late.” After putting Nymphia in a taxi, Mirage was about to head back to the club when she bumps into her new acquaintances at the entrance. Marco spins a car keyring on his finger and smirks. Umi clings to his elbow, eyes wide, staring at Mirage. “Well, cuties, shall we go?” Marco nods toward the parking lot. Mirage smirks professionally and strides toward the first car she sees. “Not that way, gorgeous,” he pulls her, along with Umi, toward another car. “You’re impatient. But don’t worry,” he says, opening the door for them, and the guy quickly hops into the backseat, freeing space for Mirage. “I already booked us a spacious room. Not far.” Marco starts the car and drives off. A smile flickers across his face as he hears the smacking sounds from the back. Yes, Mirage decided not to wait, especially since Umi wanted to make the first move. He pushes her into the seat, practically trying to devour her. “Hey-hey,” Mirage exhales in surprise. “Take it easy, kid.” “Don’t hold back there,” Marco’s voice calls from the front. “Just make sure you last until the hotel.” Umi decides to follow his words and climbs onto Mirage’s lap, wrapping his arms around her neck. Mirage grabs his ass and pulls him closer, feeling that the boy is already a little excited. They don’t have to wait long — the car stops, and Marco announces that they’ve arrived. At the reception, they hand them the key without unnecessary words and explain the way to the room. Umi is the first to take the bathroom. While he’s freshening up, Marco strikes up a conversation with Mirage. At this point, she realizes just how drunk she got at the club, barely able to string three words together. Marco nods with an understanding smile, letting her know he’ll have no trouble following her speech. She briefly tells him about her life, and he’s even watched a couple of episodes of Drag Race. Though it remains unclear which season exactly. Marco himself seems like a perfectly normal office worker, transforming on weekends into a passionate club regular. Unlike Mirage, he isn’t a fan of alcohol, preferring to keep his personal transport available. While they’re exchanging small talk, Umi emerges from the bathroom, covering his lower half with a towel. A grin spreads across his face in anticipation, and Mirage follows him, giving the boys a look that lets them play around a little. But when she returns to the room, she finds them sitting with their phones, sharing funny pictures from Twitter. It feels wrong to go for Umi, since he and Marco have been showing the utmost restraint. She bites her lip, listening to Umi babble and enduring his suggestive looks. Eventually, the boy can’t resist and pulls Mirage to him, pressing his mouth to hers. She doesn’t resist, and after pulling the towel off him, grabs him by the half-ass. Umi groans, pressing against Mirage and sliding over her stomach with his erection. Her finger finds the hot little hole, begging for attention. But no — that wouldn’t be fair. Suddenly, Mirage feels Marco’s lips on her neck, coming up from behind. He trails his fingers along her back and whispers, “I was beginning to think you’d never start.” Umi pulls away from Mirage and suddenly switches to Marco’s lips, pressing his temple against Mirage’s ear. She finds herself literally between two fires and squeezes Umi’s ass, already desperate to get inside. Their desires match, and Umi, reluctantly pulling away from Marco, reaches into the pile of clothes and hands Mirage a little bottle. She glances at Marco, and he nods approvingly. She tugs Umi’s hand toward the bed, and he, without taking his piercing blue eyes off her, slowly lies back. Mirage glances at Marco, comfortably settled in the chair, and hovers over Umi. He eagerly pulls her toward him and kisses her. “You are so loving,” Mirage admires, and slips two fingers into his glowing hole. Umi moans and moves instinctively toward her. He’s well-prepared — Mirage has practically dumped her entire biography on Marco. She adds a third finger. Umi finds a condom and, eager to show he’s ready, tears open the wrapper and rolls it onto Mirage. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices movement from the chair — Marco seems to be getting turned on too. “Come on already, please,” Umi moans, throwing his legs over Mirage’s shoulders. She’s ready to go in without being asked, but he feels so fragile. She really doesn’t want to hurt him. “Fuck! I’m not some damn princess!” he snaps at her gentle thrusts. “I came to fuck, and you’re treating me like a little kid!” He pulls her legs even closer, making Mirage go almost all the way in. She hums and digs her nails into his thighs, rocking back and forth. Umi’s moans mix with swearing and demands to fuck him harder. For Marco, the scene is insanely captivating, and he steps closer to watch Mirage pound the guy into the bed. She loves the attention, and with one hand she pulls him into a kiss while her other hand keeps holding Umi’s hip. Without stopping stroking himself, Marco gives her pleading eyes, hinting that he wouldn’t mind taking Umi’s place. “Wait, darling. First, I want to grant our boy’s wish. You hear how he’s asking?” Mirage says. And to prove her point, Umi exhales through a moan, “Don’t stop, fuck! You hear me? And faster!” Mirage breathes out tensely, and Marco smirks, “Didn’t you see right away what a little slut he is? Clubs are full of them. They won’t calm down until someone fucks the soul out of them. And when there are two like that, it’s just a win. You like threesomes, don’t you, baby?” Judging by Umi’s dazed look, he hears nothing at all. But he manages to surprise. “And not just threesomes,” he hisses. “But sorry, I’m only here for her.” “Don’t apologize, little Umi. I’m not here for you either, and if you don’t mind, I won’t fuck you. The rest — go ahead.” Leaning down, he kisses him and lays his hand over his on his cock. Watching this, Mirage starts moving faster, realizing she’s close to coming. As soon as Umi’s mouth is free again, he starts swearing and arching from the new sensations Marco’s hand adds. “Bitch, I’m gonna come, fuck!” But Mirage beats him — she spills into the condom and only pulls out once Umi, with a little help from Marco, finally covers all three of them. Marco drops a sad look at the cock everyone’s forgotten. As a thank-you, Umi lays Marco down on the bed and starts teasing his dick with his mouth, while his finger drifts on its own to the lonely spot. Unexpected. Umi hasn’t often cared much about partners’ asses before. Marco is surprised too, tensing his muscles and lifting his head. The boy shrugs and returns to Marco’s cock. Mirage leans in, intrigued, gazing into Marco’s huge eyes, meeting the desire to feel her inside. So Mirage pulls herself together and, standing in front of him, lets him get himself ready again. She strokes his hair gently as he works diligently with his mouth, letting out soft moans. “You ready, Marco?” she whispers, rubbing him like a cat behind the ear. He pulls her cock from his mouth and keeps stroking, answering, “I’m almost… I didn’t have much time — just wanted to join you quickly. I need a little more…” “Don’t worry,” Mirage interrupts softly, rising from the bed. Umi lifts his head and realizes it’s time to give Marco fully into Mirage’s hands. Watching her help him roll onto his stomach, Umi politely hands her the bottle and wonders how he’ll get his own pleasure while the lovers indulge each other. Mirage assesses the task and methodically gets to work. Marco is so relaxed she doesn’t need much time, and he finally gets what he wants. Originally, he came to the club to fuck someone good — someone like Umi. But under Mirage’s influence, he can’t think of anyone else. And now he’s completely at her mercy. Umi is even teasing him with his cock in his mouth. Wait. Stop. What? The boy hadn’t wasted any time. He quickly slid over to Marco, hoping the party would continue. And his hope wasn’t in vain. Going crazy from the feelings flooding him, feeling Mirage already losing control, he presses against Umi, who’s already worked up somewhere along the way, trying to keep the rhythm. Mirage admires the scene, thinking it was definitely worth going to that club with Nymphia. She got to air out her friend and properly relax before the upcoming performance. Two handsome boys at once, though — she hadn’t dragged them both into bed that often. Honestly, never. But it was worth it. If only she drank less, then she could manage everyone. Damn it! She came first again. Well, whatever, the boys could handle themselves — Umi is already reaching for Marco’s cock while he’s furiously working his mouth. Mirage slumps into the chair, wiping sweat from her forehead. Soon, the performance ends, and the boys collapse onto the bed, breathing heavily. “Thanks, everyone, you’re dismissed!” Mirage waves. “I really have to go, boys.” She leaves the building with a satisfied look and a perfectly clear head. Maybe she should celebrate tomorrow’s performance too…