Page 14 of Mr. Match

“You want us to bring you anything back?”

“Pass.”

“OK,” she says. When I look over at the stairwell, she’s standing there on the top step. “But you better show up at my house for dinner tonight. We have shit to go over.”

Ariel doesn’t wait for my reply. Just skips back down the stairs and then there’s a bustle of bodies and voices down below. The sound of all the office girls leaving.

I start my webcam, stand up, kick the chair back, and then reach behind my head and pull my thermal shirt off. “You like that, Katya? Have you been waiting to see me like this all these years? Well, why stop there?” I reach down and unbuckle my belt. The leather comes apart, the buckle clinking as my hand bumps it trying to undo the button on my jeans.

I drag the zipper down and bring out my cock. I’ve been semi-hard for almost an hour thinking about her. Waiting to be alone in the building. I don’t need more than one or two pumps to be ready.

“If you were here,” I tell her through the camera, “I’d come all over your face. But since you’re not…” I sit back down in the chair, angling the webcam to get the right shot. “I’m just gonna have to talk you through it.”

My breathing picks up as I stroke myself. My balls tighten, lifting up. One hand reaches underneath them. Cupping them as I continue to jerk off.

“Turn your camera on, Katya,” I say, staring into the lens like it’s a window to her soul. “Now get on your knees and open your mouth.”

I wait a few seconds to give her time to do that in the future, and then I smile. “Good girl,” I whisper. “You’re a very good girl.” I picture her the way I remember. That private-school uniform. The blue tartan pattern. Her long sexy legs and the white knee socks.

It was a costume. The Parson School for Girls doesn’t have a tartan skirt. I saw her on that bench. Sitting there like fucking bait. She looked nervous, but not scared. The car pulled up next to her and I was already walking across the street to pick a fight.

I fucked her over and over that summer, until she left that August.

“You want to have fun again, Kat? You want to relive what we did back then?” I smile at her. I picture her hand slipping down between her legs as she watches me getting off to the image of us in my head. “Then stick two fingers in your mouth and suck them like you used to suck my cock.”

Chapter Six - KATYA

There are candles everywhere. Lined up on the edge of the tub in one-foot holders, standing in the corners of the room in three- and five-foot holders, and there are two candelabras with twelve tapers each, flanking each side of the double vanity. I have always loved candles. They are a yellow-white color and smell like vanilla.

It’s not enough light for a shoot, so I have proper lighting as well. And after I set up the candles I decided one camera angle wasn’t enough. So now I have three tripods.

Basically my bathroom has been turned into a studio and this is my day’s work.

I adjust the robe and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is messy, my makeup non-existent, and I’m surrounded by captured flames.

Mirrors and flames.

It brings back a lot of very bad memories.

But Claudette is gone now. Dead at the hands of Mr. Mysterious, no less. Oliver was there too. All of them, actually. Every Mister was accounted for that night. And they are almost all accounted for right now as well.

I stand in front of the tub, each of the three cameras already recording, and shrug the details off with my robe. Once the silky fabric slides over my shoulders it slips down my body in a silent whoosh of air, and makes a soft green puddle of fabric at my feet.

I say nothing. I will say nothing. Let him guess what I’m thinking.

It’s only fair. I’ve been guessing what he’s been thinking since we parted ways four years ago.

I pose for the camera. Something I do naturally now. Taking a moment to imagine myself staring into his eyes. I forgo the pouty lips and play air-kisses and just stand there. Let him appreciate me. Let him think about all the days and nights we’ve been apart. Let him wonder what I’ve been doing.

I start fondling my breasts, pinching my nipples to make them hard and bunched. My nails are just long enough, and the steam inside the bathroom just hot enough, to leave red marks on my fair skin.

He likes that. He likes the animalistic nature of sex.

I find myself unconsciously biting my lip and stop.

I am not a weak little girl. I am not trying to seduce him, or entice him, or make him want me.

He already wants me.