I take my phone out of my pocket and open Google, typing in ‘how to not be jealous.’ The search results blow me away. Literally millions of pages claiming to answer my question. I skim the results, picking up a common word amongst the pages: insecurity. Am I insecure? Fuck. Who knows. I give that a Google too, and up pops: ‘Are you feeling insecure? Take the quiz and find out!’ Enough of that. I’m not taking a goddamn quiz. I toss my phone down on the bar and turn towards Bettsy. He’s still glancing around the room while he chews his lip. He takes another drink before asking me a question.
“I hear you and Preston are getting a house to flip?”
But before I can answer, he waves at a woman with jet black hair cascading down her back. She makes her way through the crowd and beams at him. As Bettsy introduces us, I can’t help but think he’s punching. Then, there’s movement behind me and Vicky’s perfume fills my nose. She makes a grab for my phone; and before I can processwhat she’s doing, she’s weaving her way through the crowd, surprisingly quick even with those fucking stilettos on.
I take off after her, completely ignoring the looks of confusion from people in the crowd as I push my way through. I’m about to catch up with her when she turns the corner and slips into the ladies’ washroom, my phone clutched in her hand.
Staring at the door, I think for a moment. Should I follow her in there? It’s probably not the best idea I have, but I glance around before slipping inside. There’s a corridor which leads to the washroom, and as I step into the open area, I spot Vicky leaning up against the counter near the sinks. The stalls opposite are all empty and the oddly placed green velvet couch sits unoccupied in the middle of the room.
“You really need to change your pass code, love,” she says, scrolling through my phone. It’s like she’s not even surprised to see me here.
I rush towards her. She spins around, attempting to hold my cell out of reach. When I talk to her, I’m addressing her in the mirror. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see the rest of my video,” she giggles.
“Your video?”
“You made it for me, didn’t you?” Her eyes meet mine in our reflection, but I can’t argue with her. “Why are you being such a tease, Lee?”
“Me being a tease? You’re kidding, right?”
“Even now I can feel your dick pressed into my ass,” she whispers. I don’t understand why, but I push into her a little more. “You know what I want, and you’re teasing me.”
The smell of her hair, her perfume, and the fact that she’s got this blouse on which makes her tits look incredible forces my arousal to take over. It completely voids me of any cognitive thought. And I ignore my inner voice telling me to abandon my phone and leave.
Do I know what she wants? I think so, and I’m feeling bold enough, and horny enough, to confirm my suspicions.
“What do you want, Vic?” I reach around, wrapping my arm around her and fixing my hand on her throat, forcing her to look forward and right into the mirror. I lean forward and whisper into her ear. “Do you need me to help get you off? I bet you’re fucking wet for me, right, baby girl?”
Maintaining eye contact in the mirror, I slip my free hand up her skirt and reach for the heat in between her legs. Of course, she’s wet. She’s actually fucking soaking, and it sends me into a frenzy. I push away the flimsy fabric and swipe my finger across her clit, causing her to shiver and lean back into me.
“Someone could come in,” she gasps, gazing at me via the mirror. She’s abandoned my phone, and I could just make a grab for it and leave, but I don’t.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask her reflection.
She shakes her head: no.
I know I shouldn’t be doing this. How would it appear if someone catches the latest signing with his hand under the photographer’s skirt? But I can’t help myself.
“Good girl,” I say into her ear, giving her clit another caress. “Did you touch yourself watching my video? Did you make yourself come as I stroked my dick? I was so fucking hard for you—” I rub my crotch into her ass. “Can you feel how hard I am now? Because this is nothing compared to how hard I was.”
“Yes,” she breathes. She almost buckles under me but steadies herself, leaning against me. But with that, the washroom door creaks open and Bella’s voice floats through the air. “Vic, are you in here? They’re waiting for you.”
Vicky reacts straight away, pulling herself away from me.
“Coming,” she shouts.
“You wish,” I whisper at her, and she grins back at me.
“Send me my video.” She readjusts her skirt and checks herself in the mirror.
“You’re being such a brat, Vic.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she huffs, heading to the door.
I steal a taste of her from my finger. Then I wash my hands, grab my phone, and follow her out moments later. Vicky is wading through the crowd to join Lisa at the front. She’s looking visibly flustered, and all I’m thinking of now is how wet her panties are—I want them. I can’t fathom the origin of this desire I have for Vicky’s panties. I wouldn’t want anything to do with anyone else’s, just hers. It’s got to be the knowledge that it’s me who’s got them wet in the first place, and they’ve been close to her perfect pussy. Besides, the knowledge that I turn her on as much as she does me has always been arousing.
I catch eyes with Ryan, seeing the confusion on his face.
