I can barely move. His cock is deep inside me, and all I can do is hold him close and take his huge cock. I thought it would hurt. He’s huge, but I’m dripping wet and have been for hours.

The mask against my face helps me relax. It’s not Carly doing these crazy things tonight; it’s Laura. Laura’s the one who blew a stranger in the bathroom and swallowed his cum. Laura came when he fingered her. Laura’s the one with her legs spread, taking a pounding from a huge cock.

I shouldn’t feel guilty. I need this. I’ve needed a fucking like this for years. This is what’s been missing from my life, and it’s just become clear.

I try to keep a hold of him, but he’s so powerful… so strong. It’s completely overwhelming. Another moan escapes my lips. Is that allowed? Am I allowed to moan? It’s not like I can control it. Can I ask him to go harder? Can I ask him to fuck me like the little slut I am?

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, in my ear. “You’ve been waiting for this all night.”

‘Yes, sir,” I reply. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me with your big fat cock since the moment I met you.”

I’m not supposed to speak. He looks at me like he’s about to admonish me, but instead, he plunges in hard. His right hand slides up from my breast to my neck. He squeezes gently, making it slightly harder to breathe, but mainly just keeping me in place. I can’t go anywhere. I’m his whore.

He fucks me harder, and the one part of my body I still control contracts around his cock as the excitement shoots through me in waves. His grip around my neck loosens as the aftershocks subside, and he finishes emptying himself inside me.

Parker goes and disposes of the condom while I lay there on the sofa exhausted, dress around my waist, and legs apart, my pussy still throbbing from the excitement.

It’s not me, it’s Laura, I tell myself. It’s Laura who’s behaved like a complete slut tonight.

But that doesn’t change one thing. Even if that’s true, it’s me who’s enjoyed every second of it.

I get home the next morning before Tami. She has a shift starting at two in the afternoon, so she’s bound to come home within the next hour. That gives me more than enough time to make it look like I spent the night here.

I mess up my bed, get changed into pajamas, and brush my teeth. I eat a bowl of cereal as well, although I wanted to do that anyway. Tami will never know I wasn’t here last night. I’m not embarrassed about sleeping at Parker’s, I just don’t want to deal with the questions. Tami and I have been to a sex party together, so feeling ashamed about casual sex seems a little antiquated at this point. However, I don’t want her to know I’m screwing my boss. Not yet.

Tami comes home half an hour later while I’m sitting on the sofa, half watching television and half working on my script. Maybe two-thirds watching television.

There’s no time to feel nervous, as Tami comes straight in and collapses down on the sofa.

“What a night,” she exclaims loudly. “I’ve never felt so good after so little sleep.”

“I’m glad you and Bruce had fun.”

“He treated me like a worthless whore. God, it was fucking awesome.”

I smile and type random words on my laptop. If Tami thinks I’m busy she might not ask—

“So how’s your mystery man?” Tami asks. “I hope you obeyed all his commands.”

“We had fun,” I reply. “Not as much fun as you by the sounds of it.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t take you home.”

“It wasn’t that kind of night.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I doubt it.” I shrug for good measure and keep typing nonsense into my draft screenplay.

“I’m definitely seeing Bruce again. He’s asked me out on a normal date.”

“That sounds serious.”

“Maybe. But if it doesn’t work out, I’m more than happy to be his sub. That man knows how to dominate a woman.”

Parker didn’t ask me out on a date. He doesn’t have to, I suppose. He’ll see me Monday through Friday every week regardless. That’s work, though. It’s not the same. Do I just pretend that last night never happened? He’s not going to get kinky in front of his child, so without a formal date or another run in at a sex party, we might never mess around again.

“Do you think you’ll like Bruce without the mask?” I ask. “He might be different when he’s not playing a role.”

“He’s stinking rich, if his house is anything to go by. That earns him a few points. You’re right, though, I don’t know much about him. That’s what the date is for. What about your man? Do you know much about him in real life?”

“He’s not my man,” I reply, to avoid answering the question.

“You’re his woman. He said as much.”

“That was only for the party. Now I’m just a babysitter and part-time screenwriter.”

“So you don’t know anything about him in real life?”

“No,” I say softly. I don’t like lying to Tami, but until recently we were never the type of friends who talked about their sex lives in intimate details. This recent openness is the exception, not the norm.

“Okay, fine,” Tami replies, with a dismissive wave of the hand. She starts typing a message on her phone which I assume is to Bruce judging by the smile on her face.

Then I notice something about Tami that should have jumped out at me immediately. Fuck. How did I miss that?

“Where did you get those clothes?” I ask. Tami only just got in from her night with Bruce, and she came straight into the living room wearing ripped jeans and a loose top, her disproportionately large nipples poking through the thin cotton. Last night she had on a sultry red dress, and she definitely didn’t bring a change of clothes with her.

“My wardrobe,” she replies. “Where do you think I got them?”

“So you didn’t just get home?”

“Nope.”

“So you—”

“Noticed that you spent the night somewhere else and put on an elaborate ruse to make me think you slept here? Yep.”

“How long were you going to let that go on for?”

Tami shrugs. “Until it got boring. I don’t understand why you’re lying about it. So you fucked a guy. Big deal. I did the same thing.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Because of who he is?”

“You know that as well?” I ask.

“Bruce knows him,” Tami replies. “They used to work together. Even with the mask, you can still recognize people.”

I didn’t. “What do you think I should do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to keep my job. But I also want to keep doing… you know. Stuff.” I sigh dramatically. “God, this is a mess. Of all the people I could have hooked up with, I hook up with my boss.”

“Your boss?” Tami yells out in surprise. “He’s your boss?”

“You said you knew.”

“No, I said Bruce knew. He wouldn’t tell me. That’s against the rules.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Have I ever told you, you can be kind of a conniving bitch sometimes?”

“No, but I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Alright then, now you know. The least you can do is help me. What would you do?”

Given her recent antics, I have a fair idea what she’s going to say. She’ll tell me to screw him again and have some fun. It’s good advice, but that doesn’t mean I can follow through on it. I’m not good at letting my hair down. Or at least, I wasn’t good at letting my hair down. I go to sex parties now. I’m a new woman. I can have casual sex and let a man dominate me in exchange for the best orgasms of my life.

“You should stay well away,” Tami says seriously.

“Huh?” That’s not the answer I’d been expecting.

“Carly, this is a man who murdered his wife, and now you find out he’s into dominating women. That should be setting off alarm bells.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. Bruce is into the same thing.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t murder his wife.”

“Neither did Parker. He’s not like that.”

“How do you know what he’s like? Did you know he was into being dominant? This just goes to show how little you know him.”

“I do know him. What we do in the bedroom is just an act. We’re having fun. Surely you understand that.”

“Of course. But I also understand that this is all about trust. Bruce didn’t handcuff me last night because I wasn’t comfortable with that. He’s still a stranger so I didn’t want to be in that position. How the hell can you ever trust Parker to handcuff you after what he’s done? Maybe that’s how he killed her.”

“Okay, you need to stop saying he killed his wife. He didn’t. I am one-hundred-percent sure about that.”

“Fine. You’re right, I don’t know that for sure. What I do know is that he’s the only suspect in her murder, and you’re putting yourself in a vulnerable position.”

I’m always vulnerable around Parker, regardless of whether I’m wearing handcuffs. He’s much taller and stronger than me. He pinned me down on the sofa effortlessly, and I loved every minute of it. I was his, to do with as he pleased. I can’t wait to be in handcuffs. I want to give myself over to him completely, with no chance of escape. Just thinking about it has me warm and tingly.

“I’m looking after his child,” I point out. “He’s trusting me with the most important thing in his life.”

“Please be careful, Carly. I don’t trust this guy.”

“I noticed.”

“Has he talked to you about it?”

“A bit,” I reply. “He isn’t hiding it from me. He offered to answer my questions, but I didn’t ask any. You know that criminal procedure lecture I attended at the law school.” Tami nods her head. I bored her with the details a few nights ago, and she couldn’t have sounded less interested. “The professor was his defense attorney. Do you think a guilty man would do that just to help me write a script?”

“No,” Tami admits. “Although I’m now thinking you should set a scene in Hawaii to see if he takes you there.”

“I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“I don’t. Which is why you should take me along with you.”

“Well at this rate, I’m never going to get my script finished.”

“Okay, okay. I can take a hint.” Tami gets up and kisses me on the forehead. “Sorry for being so harsh. I hope it works out for you.”

“Me too,” I reply, as she heads to her room to get ready for work.

I turn my attention back to my script and delete all the nonsense I typed earlier when I was pretending to work. It’s incredible how much easier it is to write when you’re in a good mood. All those months I spent barely able to get words down on the page, and it turns out all I needed to do was quit my job, become a babysitter for an awesome kid, meet a millionaire at a sex party, and have a wild night as his sub. Who knew it could be so easy?

What’s even more incredible, is that I like what I’ve written. I’ve never enjoyed reading my own writing, but this script is genuinely good. It’s well-paced, and the dark humor fits brilliantly with the alternative lifestyle my main character is dabbling with. I’ve always hated it when writers talk about feeling attached to their characters as if they were real people. It sounds pompous as hell, but now I understand. When I write scenes for Amber, I smile if things work out well for her and feel a bit teary-eyed if they don’t. That has to be a good sign. If it is, it likely means all my previous work was trash, but I can live with that.

My phone vibrates with an incoming message, but I ignore it until I’ve finished the scene I’m working on. I used to crave interruptions and used them as excuses. Not anymore. When I finally unlock my phone, the slight smile on my face gets a hell of a lot wider. It’s a message from Parker.

I’m taking tomorrow off work. Can the three of us hang out?

Would that be a date? Olivia will be there, but that’s to be expected. He’s a single dad and I’m her babysitter. Time alone with Parker is going to be a rarity when Olivia’s awake.

I’d love to. Shall I come over at the normal time?

Parker replies immediately, but this message makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Yes. Let’s go to the beach. Olivia loves playing in the sand.

I’m not good with beaches. I used to love them as a kid, but then puberty hit. My big boobs look great in a bikini top, but with big boobs comes a big ass, or at least it does in my case. And then there’s the soft belly. No, bikinis are a no-go. Even normal swimsuits freak me out a bit. My thighs are far too large and they don’t see much sun. That wouldn’t be so bad, but this is LA. Ninety percent of the women on the beach will be slim, tanned all over, and glowing with confidence. I’ll be cowering under an umbrella, slathering on the suntan lotion as if my skin breathes the stuff.

What about the park? I reply. Olivia loves the swings.

She’s all excited about the beach now.

Parker sends me a picture of Olivia with a bucket and spade in her hands and a big smile on her face. I guess I can wear a light dress over the swimsuit.

Beach it is, I reply.

A date is a date. Parker’s already seen me naked, so it’s a bit late for him to be put off by my body.

Thanks. Can’t wait to see you again.

Me too. ;-)

Oh, and don’t worry about money. I’ll pay you as normal.

Thanks, I reply, although I don’t mean it. If I’m being paid then it’s not a date. Or it is, and I’m now an escort. That blows my high a bit. I put down my laptop and head out of the apartment. I need to buy a swimsuit, a dress, and suntan lotion.

At least we get to hang out together. This might not be a date, but there’s plenty of time for that. We’re doing things out of order as it is. He got me off when we first met, then I became his babysitter, then I blew him, then he got me off again, and then we fucked. Now we’re spending the day together.

Tami’s wrong. Parker might enjoy acting dominant as much as I enjoy acting submissive, but we can still have a normal relationship. He never hurt anyone. I’m certain of that.