Page 26 of Taking Turns

And that bedroom, wow. Talk about boring.

There’s a series of beeps as she arms the house alarm.

I smile again.

Because she just locked me in here with her.

I sit back down in my chair and wait her out, staring at an ugly-as-fuck orange accent wall that needs to find its way back to the Seventies where it came from. I wait and see if she comes downstairs to get something to eat. But she doesn’t. She gets in the shower. It’s a long one. So long I get bored and go upstairs to watch her through the clear glass. She’s got her eyes closed as the water flows down her face, her breasts, her legs.

If she opened them right now, she’d see me. But she doesn’t. Just stays like that, like she’s washing something away.

I shrug and step back into the bedroom, casually looking through her drawers. When she turns the water off, I take a pair of panties out of her underwear drawer and push it closed. They are black lace. Boy shorts, I think they call them. The ones that ride up the ass cheeks. I like those, so I put them in my suit pocket.

I step out of her room just as she steps out of the bathroom. She misses seeing me by seconds. And then I go downstairs to wait. I sit in my chair and watch for her shadow on the stairs.

But the dim light filtering through from the third floor clicks out a few minutes later.

She went to bed.

I ponder this for a few minutes. Wonder if I should wake her. Let her know I’m here.

But what would be the fun in that?

I watch the clock for thirty minutes and when I’m sure she’s asleep, I go back upstairs and into her bedroom. I take a seat in another chair with my back to the window.

And I watch her. She has curtains on the window. But they are sheer, and white, and not closed. So there’s a little bit of light coming in from the moon, or some streetlamp. It’s enough to get a good look at her face.

She’s pretty. I noted it last night but watching her at work let me see her. She likes her job, she likes her co-workers, and she appears to be happy.

So why was she going along with Rochelle’s plan? Because I think it’s pretty clear at this point that Rochelle did have a plan. What it was, what it’s about… I have no idea.

I slip my coat jacket off and drape it over the back of the chair I’m sitting in. Then my tie. And once that’s situated neatly on top of the jacket, I start unbuttoning my shirt. It’s cold out tonight, and even though the heat is on in the house, it’s set low. So I leave it on, just open it up to expose my chest.

I unbuckle my belt next. It jingles a little and I watch her face closely to see if she’s a light sleeper. No, I decide, once I’m unzipping my pants. She’s not. My cock is hard when I grip it. And when I close my eyes and let my imagination take over, it grows even harder.

Rochelle, I hear myself saying in my head. Just the way Quin described it to me earlier today. I needed a good visual so I hunted him down at work after lunch and got the whole story. Did you miss me? Because I missed you. We need to renegotiate. Two weeks is too long.

What would I have done if it was my night instead of Quin’s?

I don’t think I would’ve mistaken her for Rochelle, that’s for sure. Marcella’s breasts are bigger, for one. And Quin said he grabbed them. He said he was kinda rough. For him, anyway. He pulled her hair.

God, I wish I had seen it. I wish I was there.

I open my eyes, my hand still pumping my cock as I play that scene over and over in my head. Trying to make it perfect. And when it is, I come on my stomach in the still silence.

I let myself breathe hard for several minutes, hoping she wakes up so she can see me here. Understand what I did. What I want from her.

But she is dead to the world.

I want to touch her very badly.

But instead I get up from the chair and walk out, silently descending the stars until I get to the bottom floor. I go into the bathroom and clean the come off my stomach and stare at my face in the mirror.

I look tired. I need sleep and a shave. But neither of those things are mine tonight, because I’m stuck here in her house. I’m not going to wake her up. And miss her reaction when she realizes I just spent the night in her house and she didn’t know it? I laugh. Out loud. Fuck that.

Marcella agreed to Rochelle’s plan for one reason and one reason only.

She’s a dirty slut. She wants to be with us. She wants what Rochelle left behind.