A considerate and somewhat traditional 29 years old man. He values etiquette, evident in his views on eating habits and his insistence on being a good host to Apollo. Despite initial discomfort with the new living arrangement, he shows flexibility and adaptability. His patience is tested by Apollo's unfamiliarity with human norms but remains tolerant, indicating a mature personality. He has an established routine with Victoria the cat, hinting at his caring nature. In terms of appearance, details are not explicitly mentioned in the text provided.

Of all the questions Cyrus was expecting from Apollo, it certainly hadn't been one about human teeth. "Um," Cyrus began, taken aback. "We eat things other than meat, so we have some teeth that are better for crushing hard foods than tearing into meat. Nuts, tough vegetables... you get the idea." He gave Apollo a strange look. "You do eat things other than meat, right? I'm not sure if I can afford to feed you if all you eat is meat."

"And as far as forks and knives—they do help make food easier for us to eat, but a lot of why we use them is cultural. It's considered uncivilized to eat some foods with just your bare hands. If you ate a steak with just your hands, people would judge you. But there are some foods, like hamburgers, that people don't mind folks eating with just their hands. It's pretty arbitrary what foods people think should be eaten with hands and what foods they think should be eaten with utensils, I suppose."

Victoria was purring, enjoying Apollo's gentle petting. Cyrus watched. He didn't dismiss the idea that he and Apollo would never grow to be friends, but he did nod at the notion of Victoria and Apollo becoming friends. "She's already taken quite a shine to you. I'm sure you'll get along well."

Apollo tried to keep up his smile after that. He wanted to give off a more friendly disposition to Cyrus so they could eventually be less awkward with each other. He mostly just stayed quiet and held Victoria in his lap, petting her softly. He had turned on the T.V, watching a movie to avoid the silence between them. Unfortunately, that could only last for so long. Apollo attempted to try and make conversation but figured Cyrus had had enough so he didn't.

It wasn't until the sun started to lower that Apollo say anything. "So... I packed my own sleep wear but since I cannot sleep on the couch, I can make a spot on the floor for me to sleep if that would be best for you? I have my own bathroom supplies as well so you don't have to worry about that either." Apollo's duffle was on the floor next to Cyrus. "Just let me know when you are getting ready for bed and I will follow you. That is if your Victoria will allow me to stand up."

As much as Cyrus felt frustrated with Apollo, the thought of making the siren sleep on the bare floor sat uncomfortably with him.

"I'm not such a poor host that I'll make you sleep on the floor," Cyrus said. He was frowning and there was an incredulous, almost offended tone to his voice, as if Apollo had just asked him if he ate puppies for lunch every day. "I'll order a futon or something online, but my bed is big enough for us to share for a bit."

He stood, unconcerned by the fact that Apollo was still stuck under the cat. "It's okay. Hey Tori-Tori, time to brush teeth!" he said, his pitch going a bit higher when he addressed Victoria. The cat immediately jumped down from Apollo's lap and darted down the hall and into the restroom. Cyrus chuckled as he waited for Apollo to stand and follow him down the hall, amused by the little nightly routine he and Victoria had.

"She has her own water bowl, but she likes to drink from the faucet. I let it drip a bit while I brush my teeth so she can drink from it, and then we'll go to bed and she'll sleep by my legs. She's really sweet."

Cyrus led Apollo to the bathroom. He cleared off a small space on the counter so Apollo would have room to store his belongings. Once that was done, he started brushing his teeth, leaving the water on a trickle so Victoria could drink from it. She kept putting her paw under the water and then licking all the droplets off of it. As soon as Cyrus was done brushing his teeth and had rinsed out his mouth, he turned off the tap. He picked up Victoria and cradled her against his chest, which she accepted without complaint, this apparently another standard part of their nightly routine.

Cyrus set Victoria down on the bed as soon as he got to the bedroom, but he didn't climb under the covers quite yet. "I usually like to sleep in my underwear," he admitted to Apollo, "but I'll throw something else on if that makes you uncomfortable. Just let me know."

Apollo didn't try to argue with Cyrus over him sleeping in the bed. He just followed him to the bathroom, curiously watching Victoria run towards the destination. "Well, I appreciate that, just know I wasn't thinking you were a terrible host. I often sleep on more stiff and hard surfaces so a floor would actually be like home." Apollo had his eyes on Victoria though, drinking from the dripping tap.

He also started to brush his teeth, wanting to keep pace with Cyrus. It would have been a goof break for Cyrus since Apollo couldn't exactly speak while he teethed but it did take Apollo longer to get the job done, he had a few more teeth than Cyrus did upon closer inspection.

Once he was sure he had no more toothpaste in his teeth, he followed Cyrus out to the bedroom. "I don't mind really. I tend to sleep in my underwear as well but more often naked." Apollo started to dig through his bag. "But of course, I would not do that here." He pulled a comb from his bag, starting to part his hair down the middle in order to braid it for the night.

Cyrus nodded at Apollo's words. "It's only fair that you can sleep in your underwear, too. Just stay on your side of the bed." He stripped down to his underwear, putting his used clothing into the laundry hamper. Cyrus crawled into bed, spending a few minutes on his phone ordering a sleeping bag online. Once that was done, he plugged his phone in and then went to sleep.

Cyrus woke in the morning to find that Apollo had not stayed on his side of the king-sized bed. The siren's limbs were tangled with Cyrus' own, and it seemed that there wasn't a single inch of exposed skin that wasn't touching between them. "Wake up," Cyrus grumpily said, jabbing at Apollo. "Get off of me."

Apollo wasn't used to sleeping alone. When he was back home, he would sleep with brothers and sisters as children and when he got engaged, he was allowed to sleep with his fiancé. However, the last three months on land, he has needed to sleep alone so he started to hold a pillow at night. He didn't think much of it when Cyrus and him went to bed. He simply held his pillow while he went to sleep.

He was just as surprised when he woke up to Cyrus jabbing at him to move. Cyrus was so warm, perhaps that is why he moved in the night.

"M'sorry." He turned over and curled back to his side of the bed. "Should I go make breakfast? I can make chicken eggs and toast." He rubbed his eyes, stretching out his arms and legs, sitting up to rub the rest of his face. "Do you like chicken eggs?" Apollo started to unbraid his hair, looking over his shoulder at Cyrus.

Cyrus was still a bit irritated, but he could feel his anger ebbing away at the mention of food. He was a fairly simple person, at the end of the day. "Yeah, thanks. I'd like two eggs and one piece of toast, please."

He stood and walked over to his closet, gathering up the clothes he intended to put on that day: black dress slacks and a dark gray button-down shirt. He could just wear loungewear today since he'd be working from home, but Cyrus had found that he was better able to focus on work if he dressed up like he was actually going out to work. "I want to shower. Can you, I guess... just sit on the toilet and ignore me? And then we can switch, if you want."


A 26 years old male siren, indicating an otherworldly appearance with unusual physical traits such as extra teeth. He's unfamiliar with human norms and customs but shows eagerness to learn and adapt. Despite initial awkwardness, he strives to maintain a friendly disposition towards Cyrus, indicating his sociable nature. He's comfortable with close contact and open about his habits, showing a straightforward personality. He also demonstrates care for others' comfort levels, seen when he offers to sleep on the floor or change his usual sleeping attire out of consideration for Cyrus. His interaction with Victoria the cat suggests gentleness.

Apollo wasn't used to sleeping alone. When he was back home, he would sleep with brothers and sisters as children and when he got engaged, he was allowed to sleep with his fiancé. However, the last three months on land, he has needed to sleep alone so he started to hold a pillow at night. He didn't think much of it when Cyrus and him went to bed. He simply held his pillow while he went to sleep.

He was just as surprised when he woke up to Cyrus jabbing at him to move. Cyrus was so warm, perhaps that is why he moved in the night.

"M'sorry." He turned over and curled back to his side of the bed. "Should I go make breakfast? I can make chicken eggs and toast." He rubbed his eyes, stretching out his arms and legs, sitting up to rub the rest of his face. "Do you like chicken eggs?" Apollo started to unbraid his hair, looking over his shoulder at Cyrus.


A 21 years old woman with a delicate appearance, indicated by her dainty throat and petite form. She has long, raven hair which adds to her allure. Despite her physical vulnerability, she possesses a strong will and defiant spirit. She resists Crowley's attempts at dominance and even fights back when given the opportunity. Her resilience shows an inner strength that belies her outward fragility. Yet, there's also fear and confusion in her reactions, hinting at an underlying sense of vulnerability or uncertainty about her predicament.

For being in Hell, the room was dark and cold. Especially when her body was abruptly naked. No... soon, she was trussed up like a deer. Her arms above her head. She shivered as she felt his fleshy hand caress her back. Tracing her spine. Tegan closed her eyes, trying not too panic. The cuffs were cold around her wrists. The room smelled slightly musty from being dark. Like old books. Or a musky perfume.

Crowley decided he would torture her until he felt nothing and she called him master. That would solve both of his problems then. He back up from her slowly before cracking the whip on her fleshy back. Watching with a smirk as blood was drawn. He gave a few more cracks of his whip before asking her, "Who is your master?" Wondering if she would be easy to break or if she would take time and fun before he would be able to let her free by his side.

Her eyes closed, Tegan could hear the sound of the whip slashing forward and snapping onto her skin. A searing pain ensued as the skin was broken. Trickles of blood dripped down Tegan's skin. A yell of pain fled her plush lips at the pain. Her chest heaved as she panted, but Tegan refused to answer. No. No, Tegan couldn't and wouldn't give into this sick freak that easily. "You are not my master. No one is." She growled, struggling within the cuffs that trussed her up to the ceiling.

Crowley took off his black suit jacket and laid it across a plush chair nearby. "You will be singing a different tune soon darling." Crowley said with a smile he knew she could not see. He ran a finger up her back to collect some of her precious blood, licking it off of his finger. He then made another quick lash on her back and then another. "I might have fun and spell my name on your body back here, love." He cooed, knowing that she would likely get angry at him.

Feeling his pudgy finger caress the wound, Tegan shivered, the lash still stinging and smarting. As the man prowled around behind her, she could just smell him. He smelled oddly musty. Like she supposed death would. But yet it still held a hint of sweetness to him. Whimpers followed each lash upon her naked back. The sound of leather on flesh loud in the air. "No one is my master." Once more she denied Crowley as she struggled in the bonds, ignoring that they were digging into her wrists.

"You will be begging for me to drink from you . You will beg to be near me. Just you wait." Crowley told her as he circled her now. He wrapped his large hand around her tiny throat. Squeezing just enough to restrict air but not completely. Crowley smirked at how vulnerable she was despite what her mouth said otherwise. "You will want to be such a good girl for your master too. You will want to please me in every way know you can." Crowley cooed into her ear. As if he could already see it

A strangled gasp reverberated as Crowley wrapped his strong hand around her dainty throat, partially cutting off her precious oxygen. Tegan knew all too well how vulnerable she was. Naked and dangling in a cold, musty room. With furnishings of dark wood and decorated in gold and purple and red. "N-never." She managed to cough out, grimacing. Even as she gasped for air, an incredibly bad idea inspired her. Without word or any kind of warning, Tegan managed to pick up her legs and thrust her feet forward, feeling her feet colliding into his manhood.

Crowley grimaced as his manhood was hit. "You're gonna have to do better than that darling. I have been tortured worse . What you just did could be considered flirting." Crowley whispered to her while releasing her throat. He ran his hand along her back to pick up her blood, licking it up from his hand gleefully. Her blood tasted so good. He could bleed her all day,keeping her alive.

Expecting a completely different reaction, Tegan blinked in surprise. After the King released her throat, Tegan gasped and coughed as oxygen once more completely filled her lungs. Why was her blood special? She wondered, feeling frustrated. "Let. Me. Go." She demanded, even though it was useless.

"Why would I want to do that?" Crowley asked before picking up his knife . He ran the blade slowly across her thigh. He kissed at her wound on her arm with a sly grin before sinking the knife into her thigh sharply. He was enjoying seeing her wither and bleed. He enjoyed seeing her scream in pain. "Are you liking this yet, pet?" Crowley said in a deep voice. She would learn to like it, in time. "I know you will love it one day. You will need it. Beg for it. Love me for it."

Suddenly, Tegan could feel the cold blade as it was pushed deep into her thigh. For the first time she screamed. Blood raced down her skin like a red waterfall, striking against her pale skin. The pain was red hot and throbbing as tears rolled down her cheeks. She could feel the blade inside her flesh, splitting the skin in an unnatural way.

Crowley smiled as he kissed along her neck. Moving the blade along her thigh with her blood. Her screams were delightful, music to his ears. He moved the blade to her womanhood, gently caressing it against her clit. Moving the blunt edge against her bundles of nerves, he bit down on her neck before he sucked on her blood once again. He wondered how long it would take to break her. How long it would take for her to yearn for him, for his touch. The thought made him smirk.

Gasping breaths rose and fell her chest, blood still running down her right thigh. As she felt his sharp teeth bite into her neck, Tegan grimaced. Her muscles tensing as the blade moved across her skin. The point of the blade resting against her clit between her legs. Tegan gulped, her body shuddering as the King took more gulps of her red life force.

This vein he decided to heal up. He did not want her to lose too much blood after all. He decided to heal all the wounds she had except the ones on her back. He wiggled his blade upon her bundle of nerves, locking his lips of her blood. Her blood was sending his senses over the edge. He wanted more but knew he had to slow down on her.

Feeling the wound suddenly close on its own, Tegan shuddered. He had a powerful bite and sharp teeth indeed. But the man wasn't a vampire. Or... was he? Despite the healed wound, her thigh and down her leg were still a dark red. "Let me go... please..." She begged, her voice shaky, her body and senses very aware of the cold, sharp blade resting against her clit.

She had started begging instead of fighting. How interesting. "Do you think you deserve to rest on the bed?" He asked her. He knew he could not run her into the ground all at once . He would have to allow her to rest sometime. He might be able to heal her wounds but her mind would deteriorate in a way that was not in his favor. He snapped his fingers to heal her wounds on on her back.

The only evidence left was the blood that the King had given her any wounds at all. A long groan could be heard from Crowley's captive. Tegan indeed felt quite exhausted. Mostly from the blood loss and trying to fight. It was clear that this sick freak wasn't about to let her go any time soon. Was he going to slowly kill her here? Tegan didn't answer the man. Not that he was hardly human. Panting, Tegan didn't look at him, instead turning her face into her arm, her long, raven hair covering her face.

Crowley cursed these human feelings he felt at the moment. But the high he got off of her blood was too great. He set to quickly clean her with a warm and wet wash cloth so that she may lay comfortably in the bed without getting it dirty. He would break her another way once she had some rest and food in her . Once he cleaned her up, he untied her hands and guided her to the large plush bed to lay her down.

A groggy groan escaped from Tegan as she was laid down upon the bed. Her body was exhausted as she was set upon the mattress. No doubt he was planning on another way to try and get her to break. It seemed as if he was wanting her blood, but for what?

Crowley placed the covers over her. He would allow her to rest and relax for a while. She would obviously need it. He walked around the bed and studied her form. He pulled on his tie, taking it off before taking off his dress shirt. He placed his clothing upon his dresser. He eyed her from the corner of his eye as he poured his glass of Craig.

As she was now lying upon the bed, Tegan was grateful to be out of the restraints. Panting, she wearily sat up, feeling very vulnerable. "Why... why do you need my blood?" She wondered, voice slightly groggy.

"Your blood happens to be very intoxicating. Human blood in general? You could say I am addicted to it, in a way." Crowley told her, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He knew she would be curious. It would not hurt to tell her. After all, she could not go anywhere.

Addicted? "How was that possible?" She wondered, her long hair a tangled mess. Had someone left him this way? Or had he done it to himself? For if it was himself, Tegan was going to resist at all possible cost. But... but maybe if someone left him like this... slowly she sat up, grimacing as her joints moved and stretched. "Did... someone make you this way?" The question was strange as she looked over at him, watching as he removed his tie and outer suit jacket.


A man who exudes dominance and cruelty. His large, strong hands and sharp teeth hint at his non-human nature. He's sophisticated enough to wear a black suit jacket and tie, suggesting an air of refinement or perhaps deception. His personality is manipulative and sadistic; he enjoys inflicting pain and drawing blood from his victims while attempting to break their spirit. Despite this, he also shows signs of patience, allowing his captive rest when needed. His actions reveal a twisted sense of pleasure in power dynamics as well as an addiction to human blood, which may be tied to his demonic origins.

For being in Hell, the room was dark and cold. Especially when her body was abruptly naked. No... soon, she was trussed up like a deer. Her arms above her head. She shivered as she felt his fleshy hand caress her back. Tracing her spine. Tegan closed her eyes, trying not too panic. The cuffs were cold around her wrists. The room smelled slightly musty from being dark. Like old books. Or a musky perfume.

Crowley decided he would torture her until he felt nothing and she called him master. That would solve both of his problems then. He back up from her slowly before cracking the whip on her fleshy back. Watching with a smirk as blood was drawn. He gave a few more cracks of his whip before asking her, "Who is your master?" Wondering if she would be easy to break or if she would take time and fun before he would be able to let her free by his side.

Her eyes closed, Tegan could hear the sound of the whip slashing forward and snapping onto her skin. A searing pain ensued as the skin was broken. Trickles of blood dripped down Tegan's skin. A yell of pain fled her plush lips at the pain. Her chest heaved as she panted, but Tegan refused to answer. No. No, Tegan couldn't and wouldn't give into this sick freak that easily. "You are not my master. No one is." She growled, struggling within the cuffs that trussed her up to the ceiling.

Crowley took off his black suit jacket and laid it across a plush chair nearby. "You will be singing a different tune soon darling." Crowley said with a smile he knew she could not see. He ran a finger up her back to collect some of her precious blood, licking it off of his finger. He then made another quick lash on her back and then another. "I might have fun and spell my name on your body back here, love." He cooed, knowing that she would likely get angry at him.

Feeling his pudgy finger caress the wound, Tegan shivered, the lash still stinging and smarting. As the man prowled around behind her, she could just smell him. He smelled oddly musty. Like she supposed death would. But yet it still held a hint of sweetness to him. Whimpers followed each lash upon her naked back. The sound of leather on flesh loud in the air. "No one is my master." Once more she denied Crowley as she struggled in the bonds, ignoring that they were digging into her wrists.

"You will be begging for me to drink from you . You will beg to be near me. Just you wait." Crowley told her as he circled her now. He wrapped his large hand around her tiny throat. Squeezing just enough to restrict air but not completely. Crowley smirked at how vulnerable she was despite what her mouth said otherwise. "You will want to be such a good girl for your master too. You will want to please me in every way know you can." Crowley cooed into her ear. As if he could already see it

A strangled gasp reverberated as Crowley wrapped his strong hand around her dainty throat, partially cutting off her precious oxygen. Tegan knew all too well how vulnerable she was. Naked and dangling in a cold, musty room. With furnishings of dark wood and decorated in gold and purple and red. "N-never." She managed to cough out, grimacing. Even as she gasped for air, an incredibly bad idea inspired her. Without word or any kind of warning, Tegan managed to pick up her legs and thrust her feet forward, feeling her feet colliding into his manhood.

Crowley grimaced as his manhood was hit. "You're gonna have to do better than that darling. I have been tortured worse . What you just did could be considered flirting." Crowley whispered to her while releasing her throat. He ran his hand along her back to pick up her blood, licking it up from his hand gleefully. Her blood tasted so good. He could bleed her all day,keeping her alive.

Expecting a completely different reaction, Tegan blinked in surprise. After the King released her throat, Tegan gasped and coughed as oxygen once more completely filled her lungs. Why was her blood special? She wondered, feeling frustrated. "Let. Me. Go." She demanded, even though it was useless.

"Why would I want to do that?" Crowley asked before picking up his knife . He ran the blade slowly across her thigh. He kissed at her wound on her arm with a sly grin before sinking the knife into her thigh sharply. He was enjoying seeing her wither and bleed. He enjoyed seeing her scream in pain. "Are you liking this yet, pet?" Crowley said in a deep voice. She would learn to like it, in time. "I know you will love it one day. You will need it. Beg for it. Love me for it."

Suddenly, Tegan could feel the cold blade as it was pushed deep into her thigh. For the first time she screamed. Blood raced down her skin like a red waterfall, striking against her pale skin. The pain was red hot and throbbing as tears rolled down her cheeks. She could feel the blade inside her flesh, splitting the skin in an unnatural way.

Crowley smiled as he kissed along her neck. Moving the blade along her thigh with her blood. Her screams were delightful, music to his ears. He moved the blade to her womanhood, gently caressing it against her clit. Moving the blunt edge against her bundles of nerves, he bit down on her neck before he sucked on her blood once again. He wondered how long it would take to break her. How long it would take for her to yearn for him, for his touch. The thought made him smirk.

Gasping breaths rose and fell her chest, blood still running down her right thigh. As she felt his sharp teeth bite into her neck, Tegan grimaced. Her muscles tensing as the blade moved across her skin. The point of the blade resting against her clit between her legs. Tegan gulped, her body shuddering as the King took more gulps of her red life force.

This vein he decided to heal up. He did not want her to lose too much blood after all. He decided to heal all the wounds she had except the ones on her back. He wiggled his blade upon her bundle of nerves, locking his lips of her blood. Her blood was sending his senses over the edge. He wanted more but knew he had to slow down on her.

Feeling the wound suddenly close on its own, Tegan shuddered. He had a powerful bite and sharp teeth indeed. But the man wasn't a vampire. Or... was he? Despite the healed wound, her thigh and down her leg were still a dark red. "Let me go... please..." She begged, her voice shaky, her body and senses very aware of the cold, sharp blade resting against her clit.

She had started begging instead of fighting. How interesting. "Do you think you deserve to rest on the bed?" He asked her. He knew he could not run her into the ground all at once . He would have to allow her to rest sometime. He might be able to heal her wounds but her mind would deteriorate in a way that was not in his favor. He snapped his fingers to heal her wounds on on her back.

The only evidence left was the blood that the King had given her any wounds at all. A long groan could be heard from Crowley's captive. Tegan indeed felt quite exhausted. Mostly from the blood loss and trying to fight. It was clear that this sick freak wasn't about to let her go any time soon. Was he going to slowly kill her here? Tegan didn't answer the man. Not that he was hardly human. Panting, Tegan didn't look at him, instead turning her face into her arm, her long, raven hair covering her face.

Crowley cursed these human feelings he felt at the moment. But the high he got off of her blood was too great. He set to quickly clean her with a warm and wet wash cloth so that she may lay comfortably in the bed without getting it dirty. He would break her another way once she had some rest and food in her . Once he cleaned her up, he untied her hands and guided her to the large plush bed to lay her down.

A groggy groan escaped from Tegan as she was laid down upon the bed. Her body was exhausted as she was set upon the mattress. No doubt he was planning on another way to try and get her to break. It seemed as if he was wanting her blood, but for what?

Crowley placed the covers over her. He would allow her to rest and relax for a while. She would obviously need it. He walked around the bed and studied her form. He pulled on his tie, taking it off before taking off his dress shirt. He placed his clothing upon his dresser. He eyed her from the corner of his eye as he poured his glass of Craig.

As she was now lying upon the bed, Tegan was grateful to be out of the restraints. Panting, she wearily sat up, feeling very vulnerable. "Why... why do you need my blood?" She wondered, voice slightly groggy.

"Your blood happens to be very intoxicating. Human blood in general? You could say I am addicted to it, in a way." Crowley told her, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He knew she would be curious. It would not hurt to tell her. After all, she could not go anywhere.

Addicted? "How was that possible?" She wondered, her long hair a tangled mess. Had someone left him this way? Or had he done it to himself? For if it was himself, Tegan was going to resist at all possible cost. But... but maybe if someone left him like this... slowly she sat up, grimacing as her joints moved and stretched. "Did... someone make you this way?" The question was strange as she looked over at him, watching as he removed his tie and outer suit jacket.

"A failed, feeble, attempt to cure me of being a demon. It leaves one with the feelings of a human. After being a demon for so long, it is a very scary thing." Crowley decided to answer her. Not like it would matter either way. But it was better than going back to the silence


A powerful, blonde-haired woman with blue eyes and white skin. She exudes dominance and control, always ensuring that everyone around her knows their place in the societal hierarchy she upholds. She's persuasive, using both threats of violence and promises of protection to manipulate others into compliance. Despite her harsh methods, she shows some signs of affection or at least possessiveness towards Anais, indicating a complex personality beyond mere cruelty. Her ability to maintain control suggests intelligence and strategic thinking.

Katharine looked at the girl and laughed slightly. "Hmm... does that mean even if I went a little lower and under these pants? Don't want me to eat you there, either?" She asked before seeing the girl flinch at the clamp. "I am preparing you. Things are permanent around here, I do my best to make sure everyone knows their place. Ask my brother where he is today? Even Superiors, that give birth to men, they know their place."

She then watched as the girl quickly stepped away and ran to the window. Her bird moved closer and began flapping its painted-colored wings and looked at the girl. Squawking away a tune. "Anais. Come now. I want us to get along." She got up and walked over to the girl. Gently grabbing her shoulders and pulling her in a different direction and back to the bed. She grabbed the rope tying it around her arms, twice around before going once in the middle and wrapping it to the headboard.

"Anais, this can be very simple. Every Superior needs someone like you. A female with beautiful dark skin. They become mates in a way. Much more important than all the rest. If you don't properly mate with me and do as we do... well then you are killed and become part of skull territory. Out there I can't help you. Here, I run these animals." She reached over to grab her needle and with the clamp, pulled on the skin and stabbed it through.

Anais jerked away from the large bird as it flapped and squawked at her. The gentle hands on her shoulder were still strong as she was pulled up and brought back to the bed. "I don't want to get along like this!" She cried out, fighting to no avail as she was ceremoniously dumped on the bed. The appearance of the rope made her fight even more, attempting to lash out her arms and get away but she was pinned and bound.

"I don't care what your tradition or whatever is! I want no part of it!" Anais screamed over the woman until she made out what was said. So, she'd be killed if she didn't comply? "But... I don't want this..." She whispered, Her arms finally being tied up as she calmed down.

Lost in her own thoughts for a moment as she stayed still, she didn't register the piercing process until the needle went through her skin. "Ouch! Damn it I said I didn't want this!" Tears started pricking her eyes as she began to cry from the pain.

Katharine looked at the struggling girl and noticed how she screamed. "Hush now, darling. I don't want to gag you. That's more for fun ways and you make this all so mean and cruel, so I have to be tense with you." She replied grabbing the purple and white jewel-like broach for her belly button. She forced its needle through the new hole and tightened it together. Watching how it looked like an upside down V. Sparkling in the sun, which the girl would be wearing very little clothing from thus forward.

"I know you don't, no one ever does. Until they see how good it can feel. In a lighter dose, the drug we gave you gives a sense of euphoria, and I am not against using it again before the next full moon. If it means you will comply. But I hope by then you will not resist me as much." She then attached a silver chain as it wrapped around her midsection. She ran her fingers along her belly. "Your dark skin is so perfect, not as black as the night sky, but not as white as mine." Sadly hers was a tale that many white people in her tribe faced. "The blonde, blue eyes and yours is all so perfect." She reached out touching her face. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Anais narrowed her eyes into a glare at Katharine at being told to quiet down. "How do you expect me to be quiet when this hurts so much!" She growled out, flinching when it was removed and the permanent jewelry was fixed to the now tender skin of her belly button. Glancing down to look at it though, she couldn't deny that it was a pretty piece of jewelry, still, this was all too much. And now that her hands were up, she couldn't cover her bare chest now, at least her shorts were still on.

The threat of being drugged made her frown, she didn't want to be in an altered state of mind. "I'd rather not... but I don't want to be forced to do anything I want either." Anais knew though that wouldn't really be an option for her. Given the way she's been man-handled made it clear enough.

She gasped as a finger was trailed along her stomach and her skin was essentially complimented. Her body grew warm at that but she stayed stubbornly silent.

The silence would have continued if that question wasn't asked. Look to the side, her arms tugging against the rope, she gave a small nod. "Yes." Anais had been looking for water before she was taken, and now the mentioning of it made it clear how thirsty she truly was.

Katharine looked at the sweet thing, running her hands along her face. "I hope not to force you either, I want you to willingly drop to your knees, to know your place. Now of course, a woman from the outside world the more time goes on the harder it is to break your spirits. But I am used to giving pain to people. The same will just work with you. Before long you will want to be here willingly. Here you are higher then a cum bucket. You are more worthy especially since you are the mate of a Superior."

She looked at her with a smile. "I will get you some then." She leaned over and kissed her forehead. She then walked away going to the kitchen and grabbing some water from the bucket. She walked it over to her in a cup that was still part of the ancient ways, cut from a tree native to their land.

It was brought over to the little table as she began to untie her hands. "I locked all the doors and windows prior to your arrival. I wouldn't try to escape. Here is some water." She then handed her the cup.

"The jewelry is the sign of your status. I would hate if they took you and put you with the other subs. Gosh, it's just nuts out there, any lander comes they all suffer. Some of the other women can make such awful mates, it's just quite sad. Well Anais, I haven't introduced myself to you yet. I am Katharine, the Superior of sikashwele clan."


A young woman with beautiful dark skin, not as black as the night sky but not as white as Katharine's. She has a defiant spirit and isn't easily intimidated, despite being in an unfamiliar and threatening situation. Her stubborn silence and her attempts to resist suggest that she values her autonomy highly. Though she's clearly frightened, she tries to understand the strange societal structure she's been thrust into by asking questions about it. Despite her resistance, she shows signs of submission under duress, indicating either pragmatism or resilience on her part.

Katharine looked at the sweet thing, running her hands along her face. "I hope not to force you either, I want you to willingly drop to your knees, to know your place. Now of course, a woman from the outside world the more time goes on the harder it is to break your spirits. But I am used to giving pain to people. The same will just work with you. Before long you will want to be here willingly. Here you are higher then a cum bucket. You are more worthy especially since you are the mate of a Superior."

She looked at her with a smile. "I will get you some then." She leaned over and kissed her forehead. She then walked away going to the kitchen and grabbing some water from the bucket. She walked it over to her in a cup that was still part of the ancient ways, cut from a tree native to their land.

It was brought over to the little table as she began to untie her hands. "I locked all the doors and windows prior to your arrival. I wouldn't try to escape. Here is some water." She then handed her the cup.

"The jewelry is the sign of your status. I would hate if they took you and put you with the other subs. Gosh, it's just nuts out there, any lander comes they all suffer. Some of the other women can make such awful mates, it's just quite sad. Well Anais, I haven't introduced myself to you yet. I am Katharine, the Superior of sikashwele clan."

Anais's face flushed as her face was caressed, the idea of dropping to her knees and being subservient to this woman wasn't really appealing, especially if forced. The threat of pain though was a decently frightening proposition. Katharine followed through with tying her up, not to mention piercing her skin so easily. The thought of what punishments were to come wasn't ideal.

Then again, it seemed like she almost desperately wanted to keep her here for her own use. She may end up submitting eventually as Anais would rather not die, but she won't make it easy. The kiss to her forehead made her stiffen as the woman went to retrieve some water.

"I'm higher... than a cum bucket? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She asked, not liking the idea at all once the woman came back with water. Thankfully her hands were untied and she eagerly began to drink the water as she listened to her lack of escape options. And given how many people this woman controlled, made it unlikely she'd be able to convince anyone.

"They suffer?" Anais imagined they fought whatever happened to them, and they got the short end of the stick of being... disposable. She apparently was not, or this woman had some incredible patience. After being introduced, she looked at the woman warily. "Are you the only one that's a... Superior? Are there other clans?" And, to add a bit more, she asked, "What is expected of me with you? Specifically." Katharine has mentioned being a 'mate' and 'intimate', but she wasn't certain what that all truly entails.


A young man of noble birth, given his ability to employ servants and his familiarity with finer clothing items such as sock-garters. His personality is complex; he is cantankerous and enjoys wielding power over others, especially Desmond. Despite this, he shows vulnerability---he's still affected by the loss of someone named Elise and holds on to habits like biting his lip when in thought. He also reveals a dark side, expressing a desire for revenge against those who harmed Elise. His interactions with Desmond show that he can be commanding but also cautious around entities more powerful than himself.

"I am sure you'll find such a lowly position easy to grasp, yes," was what Larkin settled for. Still dry, but better than the alternatives. His eyes darted over to the demon, watching him slip into the bathroom. There was something more to this, of course. More than just a cover story to keep his infernal contract a secret. Larkin, being the cantankerous creature he was, enjoyed the idea of something as powerful as Desmond being bound by their deal to work beneath Larkin, to act as a servant. And as his sword and shield, as the beast had said. It felt good, in a strange, dangerous kind of way.

After a few minutes, the boy got to his feet and stepped into the bathroom, brow quirked. "I see you figured out that much." He sat on the edge of the tub and dipped his fingertips into the water, humming contentedly. "That's satisfactory. Now, undress me."

It was, along with dressing himself, something he had been doing for himself ever since Terrance died, but he'd tired of it. Learning how to do up his own sock-garters, the buttons of his shirts, putting on his cravat—he was eager to shed the responsibilities again. Spoiled little thing. He lifted one leg up off of the floor, wiggling his ankle to imply he wanted the demon to take his boot off first, a dark look in his eye.

Desmond chuckled softly as the small figure started looming closer, lacking any form of intimidation. He made a small bow, accepting the gracious compliment of how he figured out the human machinery. "Child's play" He worded soft, gracing his already big ego.

As asked of him, he started helping Larkin with such a silly task as undressing. He kneeled down on one knee, taking the wiggling leg in his hand and placing it atop of his knee. From there he worked, pulling loose the bothersome buttons to release the feet. He knew that he was supposed to wear them as well—clothes, while they were intricate of design, felt very limiting at the same time.

"So what are you planning to tell them—what will be my backstory?" He had a name, but in conversation, just a name wouldn't fly. To make it easy they could always go with the simple story of him suffering from amnesia. That was the easy way out, but he was more interested in what the young Lord could come up with. The blue gaze looked up to Larkin, his eyes almost glowing with how pale blue the orbs were.

Larkin watched the demon undo the fastenings of his boot, appearing at ease for all intents and purposes, but his knuckles were white and his fingers gripped the lip of the tub tightly. It raised his hackles, being around Desmond.

It was fine. If Larkin had survived losing Elise, albeit barely, he'd manage with this. He'd had his own demons for a long time—they were just personified now. You are not afraid, he told himself. You are not.

Backstory. Right. The brunet bit his lip, a habit that left his mouth chapped and bloodied often enough, and thought about it—but he found the demon's gaze distracting. Very blue, eerily so. It had his breath catching in his throat, and his cheeks felt warm. Larkin looked away, clearing his throat.

"You were hunting in the woods, and saw me knocked off my horse," he said, flatly. "You helped me home, and revealed to me that you had recently lost your home and your family in a fire." The young man's tongue snuck out to wet his bottom lip, and a slow smile spread there. "Your job let you go for poor performance, and you practically begged me for work—on your hands and knees, at that. Like a dog. And out of the kindness of my heart, I obliged."

"Next feet" Desmond spoke in between as he placed the boot on the ground, ready to work on the next. The backstory was an easy one, fitting with what had transpired in the forest. It would suitably match with the sight that the stablehand and the maid had seen "What a delightfully deceitful lie, my lord" While the human might have smiled for other reasons, Desmond was looking forward to giving his best acting performance to this day when he started to fool this entire household. Lying was in his nature and he reveled in the act. The only one he could not lie to was Larkin.

"I will make sure I shed a tear when speaking about my terrible loss" The drama of it all, a fire ravaging his fake life and all that he held dear was lost. He wasn't so sure about the poor performance, as he wasn't planning on performing the duties Roy would teach him other than to perfection. He had his own ego to uphold here, and he wasn't going to look dumb doing it. "I will not disappoint you, I can assure you that."

Larkin lifted his other foot, perching it daintily atop Desmond's knee. "Mm, we shall see about that." He watched the demon work on his boot, and when he was done, the young man considered leaning down and unclipping one of the garters to show him how, but decided against it. If there was an opportunity for Desmond to flounder and appear a little less perfect, Larkin would take it.

"As for Elise..." There was a stiffness in Larkin's shoulders when he spoke of her, an unhappy slant to his mouth. "I have next to nothing to go on. Only the circumstances of her disappearance. Once you are set up for your duties at the manor, we will discuss further." He frowned. If they found her alive, would the demon give him time to hold her, to tell her how he loved her, how her disappearance had sucked the light from his life? Or would Desmond suck the soul from his body before he had the chance? He wanted to ask, but it felt like a vulnerable question, and Larkin avoided those.

With both shoes off, Desmond took a gander. The human had said undress—the rest should get off as well. A process that they were doing from the bottom up apparently. On the socks, he found the weirdest clippings, that he had no recollection of how they worked—meaning it was a rich boy thing. He doubted that the scattered memories he could draw upon had any information regarding being wealthy. Taking another second, Desmond decided to go the easy way on them by cheating with his powers. They instantly sprung loose as he worked his own magic on them and was able to remove the garter and the sock.

"I should tell you, if your sister is dead I cannot bring her back. Nor can I bring anyone back once their souls have departed their bodies for that matter." As for while he might be powerful, he wasn't god, creating and returning life wasn't in his toolshed. "The circumstances of her disappearance shall be a proper start. You will have your revenge little lordling, you will have vengeance" The word made the blue eyes glow for real, there was just something about it that thrilled him all the right ways. Especially as his vision of vengeance was one of true carnage. He would leave this world fulfilled with a snack devoured and a path of blood carrying his name. Splendid!

Larkin's eyes widened upon seeing the fastenings come loose seemingly with very little input from Desmond. He gasped, a small sound that he regretted as soon as it left his lips, so much so that he glared down at the demon bent at the knee and opened his mouth to say something rude, anything to make up for his moment of surprise, but Desmond was talking, and the things he said were important, and Larkin was silent as the dead of night as he listened.

It hadn't occurred to Larkin that Desmond may have been able to resurrect Elise, but even still, the knowledge that he couldn't now sunk like a cold stone in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and nodded in understanding, his features grim. "Dead or alive," he murmured, the word thick and venomous in his mouth. "I trust that you will butcher those responsible as I see fit?"

It was a tempting notion. Watching Desmond crush them with his bare hands would be sublime. That dark look was back in his eyes, half-lidded and darkly lashed and brimming with contempt. "And whoever orchestrated it, if they did not act alone, if they pulled all of the strings... you will give them to me. Is that understood? I want—" He paused, and stood up from the edge of the tub so that Desmond could continue working on his clothes. "—I want to be the last thing they see. I want to end them myself."


A demon, suggesting an otherworldly and potentially intimidating appearance. His eyes are notably pale blue, almost glowing at times. He is powerful and large enough to make a small figure look even smaller by comparison. Desmond exudes confidence and takes pleasure in deceit, eagerly anticipating the act of fooling others with their cover story. Despite being bound to serve Larkin, he maintains a sense of pride and strives for perfection in his tasks. Yet, he also shows a sadistic side when talking about exacting revenge on behalf of Larkin, reveling in the idea of violence and chaos.

With both shoes off, Desmond took a gander. The human had said undress—the rest should get off as well. A process that they were doing from the bottom up apparently. On the socks, he found the weirdest clippings, that he had no recollection of how they worked—meaning it was a rich boy thing. He doubted that the scattered memories he could draw upon had any information regarding being wealthy. Taking another second, Desmond decided to go the easy way on them by cheating with his powers. They instantly sprung loose as he worked his own magic on them and was able to remove the garter and the sock.

"I should tell you, if your sister is dead I cannot bring her back. Nor can I bring anyone back once their souls have departed their bodies for that matter." As for while he might be powerful, he wasn't god, creating and returning life wasn't in his toolshed. "The circumstances of her disappearance shall be a proper start. You will have your revenge little lordling, you will have vengeance" The word made the blue eyes glow for real, there was just something about it that thrilled him all the right ways. Especially as his vision of vengeance was one of true carnage. He would leave this world fulfilled with a snack devoured and a path of blood carrying his name. Splendid!


A 15-year-old girl with green hair, signaling a bold and unconventional personality. She's flirtatious, confident, and quite comfortable discussing topics of sexuality and attraction. Her playful banter suggests an outgoing nature. Despite her confident exterior, she shows signs of insecurity when comparing herself to Liza's intelligence. She also demonstrates a caring side towards her friends, particularly Liza, indicating depth beyond her initial flirtatious demeanor.

At the words of Liza, Jessi waited a moment before she then pulled back, smirking like a fox that was about to eat the chicken. "Yes, we shouldn't. But you gotta admit, you are a hot minx." And with that, she stepped back from the young red head, pulling her hands away and leaving her alone. Truth be told, for a moment, she had been tempted to go further, but only for a moment. As cute as Liza was, she didn't want to hurt Eric. And even if he would actually perhaps like it, well, it would be a bit too complicated for the moment.

"And don't tell me you don't like being desired. It feels good, it is great, it is such a rush, isn't it? Imagining what someone else might want to do with you... it's nice, there is no more honest compliment if you ask me. And it's totally fine, nothing wrong with it." Sitting down on the bench in the changing room, she leaned back and eyed Liza for a second before smirking again. "It fits you. And Eric will surely lose his mind if he sees you in it. You wanna take it or go look for something else, perhaps the same in another color?"

"Well... I've always preferred yellow, but it's not exactly a common color for stuff like this, so the odds aren't good... and I do like the idea of wearing something that will make Eric so worked up that he just throws me down and takes me away...! Yeah, let's take it! Now, what about you? Do you see anything special you want to surprise someone with?"

Darn, to be absolutely honest, Jessi had practically forgotten about getting something for herself. She had been so concentrated on Liza's stuff that she hadn't even looked for something for herself, thus of course the answer was no. For a moment, she thought about how to respond, before she shook her head.

"No, not really. I mean, green hair doesn't really go with a lot of other colors... black, I guess, but that is so common... I'll get something for myself another time. Also, it's not like I have someone to surprise him or her with anything really." A total lie, but Liza didn't have to know that. Not yet anyway.

"Oh, What about your girlfriend? I saw a black teddy out there with frilly, green trim. You could drive her nuts with it, and if she ever gets on your bad side, wear it for someone else, and send her pics. She'll be so jealous! And since you go both ways, if you're looking for a guy, it would be the perfect bait... and speaking of photos, I had an idea and wanted your input. Would it be better to keep this as a surprise for Eric, or should I send him some pics and let them drive him crazy for a few days?"

The idea was actually really nice, and Jessi had to smile at the thought. "Hmmm... actually not bad. But no, she's not my girlfriend. I'm not spoken for... not yet." And she really wasn't into that stuff with frills. But now having another thought, she smirked and replied, "Or do you just want me to be all dressed up and sexy, huh?" She winked at Liza, clearly teasing her. Again.

Liza blushed furiously at the teasing, but still managed a reply, "Maaaaaybee... I mean you did just get my head all twisted around, so I'm not fully in my right mind after all!" She teased back, giggling. "It's too bad you don't have someone special too; we could both send out some naughty pics then!"

Suddenly, Liza's face shifted to a more serious look, as she took off the sexy garments and sort out her clothes to put them back on. "You know, I'm kind of worried about tonight now... I managed to keep myself in check just now, but I don't know if I'll be able to do it again... in fact, if you push like that again, I probably won't. I... I kind of liked it with you being all aggressive and pushy. It kind of reminded me of some daydreams I have, only better... because you acted like you care."

Pushing herself a bit up and away from the wall, Jessi looked at Liza, and her expression softened and with a kind smile, she then nodded. "Thanks... thing is, I do care. About you." She let that linger for a moment, before then standing up and crossing the distance between them, engulfing Liza in a friendly and warm hug. "You deserve to be treated right and have friends, fun, and a great boyfriend. And everyone who does not see that... well, that's their problem."

Then putting some distance between them again, she added, "I wouldn't say no to some sexy fun with you, but I would never hurt Eric. Soooo... no. Not unless he would be okay with it, which would be a bit weird."

A funny, teasing look came across her face as Liza regarded Jessi, her naked body still fully exposed. "You should read more," she said at last, "or maybe not. If you went through some of the books in my closet collection, you might not think as highly of me."

As she bent and slid back into her plain, nondescript panties, and bra, she seemed to be debating something with herself. Finally, she opened her mouth and said, "About a year ago, I was doing a history report on the French Revolution, and I came across a word I'd never seen before. From the way it sounded, I thought it was a political party, so I decided to dig further into it. Since it seemed so obscure, I figured it would win me some points with the teacher. Well, it turned out 'Libertine' wasn't what I thought it was."

Watching Liza getting dressed, Jessi was conflicted about whether to share everything she had just done with Eric later or not, but she finally decided to be completely honest with him. Her face meanwhile betrayed nothing of her inner workings; she seemed neither conflicted nor interested in ogling the immature yet delectable body of Liza. If anything, she was just holding a normal conversation. Shaking her head and handing Liza her jeans to slip them on again, she replied, "Okay, got me there. What does libertine actually mean?"

"It was kind of... I guess you could call it a philosophical movement that began springing up around the same time as the French revolution." She said, slipping into her jeans. "They were basically the opposite of the puritans; rejecting, or at least reexamining, and questioning everything about the church, especially in regard to sex and morality. You know how you call someone who's a real ladies man 'Casanova', or 'Don Juan'? Well, both of those are examples of Libertines. 'If it feels good, do it,' was basically their motto. Problem was, some of them took it too far. For instance, you know the word sadist, well the root of that word comes from the Marques de Sade, who was into rape, torture, and murder. He was the embodiment of the bad side of their movement."

Slipping back into her blouse and coat, she took one last look in the mirror, both at herself and more importantly Jessi, gauging how much of what she said seemed to sink in with her friend and how much went over her head. "Luckily they weren't all sociopaths, and some of them wrote... very interesting books, like Fanny Hill or Moll Flanders. Some people even consider more modern books like The Loves of Lady Chatterley and Lolita to be the works of modern libertines."

Watching the girl dress and listening to her talk, Jessi was once more stuck by just how smart and well read Liza was. For a short moment, Jessi even felt jealous. This girl was younger than her, by quite a bit even, and had never even before kissed a boy until recently, and still she knew so much more. And really, how many people cared in a positive way about the fact that Jessi was kind of a slut when they could see Liza being so smart? Biting her lip, she pushed those thoughts away, finally simply nodding. "Oookay... I must admit, I will most likely not remember much of what you have just told me. I'm not, like, that smart in those... um, stuff. You know?" She shrugged helplessly.

"And that's one of the main reasons I'm so awkward," Liza sighed, "I can't just tell someone about something; I dump information on them like an encyclopedia. Too smart for my own good. I mean maybe a college professor might care about all that, but most don't, and I'm no good at giving people the cliff notes version. For instance, I could have just told you ''Libertines were a bunch of horny French philosophers who wrote dirty books about spanking people, screwing everything in sight, and taking their thirteen-year-old daughters to an orgy so they could lose their virginity'', and you'd have gotten a lot more out of it."

"Sounds like my kind of people. Then again, I don't speak French, so I guess that would make a lot of things awkward... just imagine I am asked something by some cute French boy and immediately I rip my clothes off because I think he wants to do me, but he only asked me to pass the salt or something..." She grinned cheekily at Liza and then stood up, grabbing her backpack, and together with her protege, she left the changing room. It was actually more like she was sauntering, obviously in a very good mood.

"But I actually think it's fine that you dump so much information on me. I mean, I asked you, and you gave me a proper answer. There's nothing wrong with being smart and knowing a lot. Also, I think it's cute."

"You say that now," Liza countered, "let's see if you feel the same after you've had to deal with it for a while."

With that Liza took the outfit to the checkout counter. As she sat the blue garments on the counter, the lady at the counter flashed her a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "ID, Miss?" she asked, as she slid the items behind the counter.

Jessi wanted to say something to Liza's words, wanted to reply, but then the lady at the counter asked for ID, and Jessi felt as if she had just been doused by a shower of cold water. For a moment she stood there, stumped and ashamed and feeling quite idiotic and foolish, throwing a glance at Liza. Oh my god, not now. That would be quite horrible for the younger girl. Jessi couldn't allow this.

"What do you need ID for?", she then asked, with a tone that she hoped was confident and perhaps a bit annoyed, instead of as nervous as she felt. "I mean, if you have problems with teenage girls buying your stuff, why do you offer sexy underwear in that size, right? Like, that's idiotic."


A 13 years old redhead, quite attractive given the flirtatious attention she receives from Jessi. She is smart and well-read, with an inclination towards history and philosophy. Her intelligence can make her feel awkward at times as she tends to overshare information. Despite this, she has a playful side and enjoys teasing Jessi. She's also adventurous, open-minded about sexuality, and willing to experiment with risqué clothing to excite her boyfriend Eric.

Jessi wanted to say something to Liza's words, wanted to reply, but then the lady at the counter asked for ID, and Jessi felt as if she had just been doused by a shower of cold water. For a moment she stood there, stumped and ashamed and feeling quite idiotic and foolish, throwing a glance at Liza. Oh my god, not now. That would be quite horrible for the younger girl. Jessi couldn't allow this.

"What do you need ID for?", she then asked, with a tone that she hoped was confident and perhaps a bit annoyed, instead of as nervous as she felt. "I mean, if you have problems with teenage girls buying your stuff, why do you offer sexy underwear in that size, right? Like, that's idiotic."

Liza watched as Jessi stepped up to the cashier, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never been asked for an ID before when buying clothes, even ones that were a bit risqué. She admired how Jessi took control of the situation, defending their right to purchase whatever they pleased with an air of confidence. It was one of those moments where she realized just how much she looked up to her older friend.

"Jessi, you're amazing," she said once they were outside, clutching the bag containing their purchases tightly in her hands. "I mean it, I don't know what I would have done without you there." Her voice wavered slightly as she added, "And thank you... for today. For making me feel... normal."


A tall man, over six feet, with dark brown hair that's carefully combed for a relaxed yet professional appearance. He has a muscular build from his youth but isn't as toned in some areas now. He dresses in fine Oxford suits, reflecting his successful past. Peter is skilled at controlling his emotions and maintaining a calm demeanor while harboring secret plans and desires beneath the surface.

Peter tried hard to contain his emotions as he heard the front door of the mansion closing. His wife, that manipulative cow, was gone to Europe for the summer. The perfect start to the break, and more than enough time for his plans to come to fruition. He permitted himself a smirk; but only just. He tightly controlled his emotions, for it was they who would ultimately betray him, he surmised in a coldly calculating manner. Besides, his little princess was due home soon.

Peter was a success story from start to finish. His businesses went from strength to strength, and he had the good sense to sell up before the bubble burst. That left him the luxury of time. He only had one child, and she had been doing some growing up lately. After this summer, she was off to college and he wouldn't see her so often. That pained him greatly. But for now, she was here and he could revel in that.

His plans for her were extensive, but for now he was content to enjoy the fact that she was completely and utterly oblivious to the summer she was about to experience – that last, sweet innocent summer before life really begins.

Delilah Dawson, the offspring of Peter and Spring, was making her way up the smooth cement sidewalk that lead to the large house that her father inhabited. Her mother lived there too, but only, it seemed, when her Daddy was away on business, or visiting friends in another country. Delilah had barely spent any time in the home herself. When she wasn't being sent on summer trips to Scotland or Greece, she was working her job as a receptionist at a veterinarian's office, or hanging out with friends, or being involved with school. The first two weeks of summer after her graduation had been spent in Washington DC with two of her pals, but now she was coming home to rest for two months before packing up and going away to college.

A petite, pale hand twisted the door knob and made her way in to the house, lugging a rolling suitcase behind her with a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and bouncing against her left right hip. "Daddy!" Delilah called out in to the large home, shutting the door as she stood in the entry way of the lovely, albeit a bit cold, home. She was clad in a pair of cut off black denim shorts that exposed her pudgy inner thighs and the rest of her shapely, pale legs, as well as a red and white striped tank top that clung to her ample cleavage.

"I'm ho-ome!" She called out, kicking off her shoes, always preferring to be barefoot. The girl stood at only 5'4, having petite features, wide hazel eyes, and vibrant red locks that fell in waves to the nape of her neck, a black headband resting atop her head. Seventeen, about to be a legal adult, a virgin, but full of curiosity and with a terribly sharp wit, Delilah was an interesting blend of her father and mother, though she had her mother's feminine looks: plump lips, wide eyes, narrow nose, smooth skin.

Peter stood solidly behind his desk, leaning on his arched hands pressed firmly into the fine old oak. He casually surveyed the landscape of paperwork and equipment without really focusing on anything in particular. He was a muscular man in his youth, and while he wasn't quite as toned now as he would have liked in some areas, he still cut a fine figure of a man. Over six feet tall, with dark brown hair carefully but casually combed to give a relaxed but professional appearance, clean shaven and dressed in a fine Oxford suit—he just couldn't escape his past that easily. His heart pounded just a little faster in his chest when he heard that door knob twist, and then the sweet lilt of her voice as she called to him "Daddy! I'm ho-ome".

He picked up the letter from his desk; oh how little she knew. That sweet, innocent voice betrayed a girl whose life was about to be changed forever. "I'm in the office darling" he called out gently, "come on through" he said, controlling his pitch and tone to perfection. His deep voice traveled through the empty house quickly, and as he spoke, he carefully made his way around the desk to meet her, still clutching the letter in his hand.

Her suitcase and bag were dropped a few steps in to the entryway and she moved swiftly, barefooted, across the cool hard wood floors. Her father's voice rang easily through the large, practically abandoned home, and she lead herself easily toward his large, ornately decorated downstairs office. Spring, her mother, had an office upstairs, but it was always locked when she was away, and while there was a study upstairs as well, she knew her Daddy well enough to know just where he would be.

The instant she spotted him she ran toward him, arms spread wide and a large, childlike smile plastered on her face. "Oh Daddy, I missed you!" She smiled and pressed her young, flexible body in to his, hugging her larger, far more muscled father tightly. "Mmn, so good to be home," she purred, pulling herself away and resting her hands on her hips. "So what are we gonna do tonight, Dad?"

Peter heard the suitcase fall to the ground, and smiled wryly knowing she was coming to him. The patter of her soft, naked feet on the wooden floors confirmed his assessment, and he watched as she came running around the door to greet him. She looked breathtaking. Wearing black cutoff shorts and a deliciously playful tank top which plunged so invitingly between her now well developed breasts. He tilted his head slightly as he devoured the image of this beauty running to meet him, her arms flung wide open, and her beaming smile which lit up his world.

She pressed her lithe young body into his, and he wrapped his arms around her, embracing the sensation of her teenage flesh touching his. "I missed you too, darling" he whispered as he tightened his muscular arms around her, feeling her breathing heavily against his powerful frame.

"So what are we gonna do tonight, Dad?" she asked him sharply. "Well baby, I thought we could have a little chat first" he said, more telling than asking. He was still clutching the letter in his hand, and he raised it up and unfolded the paper between them, looking straight into her eyes as he did so. His eyes glanced down at the document, and they told a story of disappointment which she recognized instantly.


a 17-year-old girl with vibrant red hair, wide hazel eyes, and pale skin. She has petite features, standing at 5'4", and possesses an ample cleavage. She wears a black headband atop her head. Delilah is a curious individual with a sharp wit, displaying an interesting blend of her parents' traits. She shares her mother's feminine looks: plump lips, wide eyes, narrow nose, and smooth skin.

Peter heard the suitcase fall to the ground, and smiled wryly knowing she was coming to him. The patter of her soft, naked feet on the wooden floors confirmed his assessment, and he watched as she came running around the door to greet him. She looked breathtaking. Wearing black cutoff shorts and a deliciously playful tank top which plunged so invitingly between her now well developed breasts. He tilted his head slightly as he devoured the image of this beauty running to meet him, her arms flung wide open, and her beaming smile which lit up his world.

She pressed her lithe young body into his, and he wrapped his arms around her, embracing the sensation of her teenage flesh touching his. "I missed you too, darling" he whispered as he tightened his muscular arms around her, feeling her breathing heavily against his powerful frame.

"So what are we gonna do tonight, Dad?" she asked him sharply. "Well baby, I thought we could have a little chat first" he said, more telling than asking. He was still clutching the letter in his hand, and he raised it up and unfolded the paper between them, looking straight into her eyes as he did so. His eyes glanced down at the document, and they told a story of disappointment which she recognized instantly.

At first there was little on Delilah's face other than pure joy. Her father had always been her favorite part of the pair who'd created her, and it was obvious that he spoiled her too. Sure, her mother would buy her a fancy cocktail and hand her a credit card, but her father always listened when she needed for him to, and when she was a little girl, crying on Daddy's shoulder made her feel much, much better. But she was too grown up to do that now...

This was the first time seeing her father in nearly three months, but his look of disappointment could not be ignored. Her auburn eyebrows furrowed, and those supple lips began to pout. "What's wrong?" She questioned softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Had it been that she skipped school the week before finals? Did he find out about her kissing her tutor? "What is it?"


A beautiful teenage African-American girl. Her personality is playful, adventurous, smiling, observant. She likes dressing with a sense of style and femininity.

They were the only two at their table everyone else had already sat at different tables with their friends. Emma looked down at the hand that squeezed hers. She looked away from him, and slipped her hand out of his. She read over the paper their teacher passed out. She didn't know how to react to what she just read. For one she realized that her teach was a complete idiot. Another thing was that they would have to do the work of four people all on their own since everyone else had paired off.

Emma put her paper in her folder. This was ridiculous she should have stayed at her school. This was going to be a long year. "This sucks. Looks like we've been exiled from all the other people. At least were only here for eight more months."

"Sucks?" Marcuso had to think about that for a moment, then he blushed. "Oh... I see." That was one way to describe an unfortunate situation, he thought. "Well, I don't think working with you is going to, uhm, suck..." He blinked as the full implication of the word manifested in his mind, sending unfortunate urges crawling down his spine. "But... I suppose we'll find out."

He closed his mouth with a pout, and hoped that wasn't taken wrongly. Well, in a certain sense, it would be interpreted just as it was, his sexual urges making him lose control of what he was thinking and saying. But that would cause all sorts of problems. Resolving that what was done was done, he looked to her, finding himself drawn into her eyes again. Damnit, but he couldn't help it. She was just that beautiful.

Emma looked at him her eyebrows furrowed. What had he thought she meant? She thought of all the possible things he could have meant. Then it suddenly dawned on her. That made her think about how she had noticed his bulge earlier. She hadn't figured him for the typical chaser when she met him, but he obviously was. " I can tell you now that working with me doesn't suck. At all." Emma was a little excited that this class would for them to work together. The more she rolled the idea around in her head the more she liked it.

A month after their meeting Marcuso and Emma had come to spend a lot of time together, though neither could still figure out exactly what they were supposed to be doing. There had been a host of challenges; they shared most of their classes (a thing Marcuso considered to be almost certainly no accident) and walked together in the halls, first for security, second to pursue the project, and third because they genuinely enjoyed each others' company. Finally, Marcuso got the nerve to ask her to accompany him to a relatively isolated but scenic watering hole on the outskirts of town.

Driving his dad's old and busted station wagon while the old man was out of town on business (Marcuso's mother had passed some time ago) he went and picked her up, causing a brief stir with Emma's family, but after a short conversation with her father, a vote of confidence. They ventured to their destination, a secret variation to the official plan to go to a drive-in movie. Marcuso parked the car on a stable-enough looking cliff and stepped out. When she followed he wasn't quite certain what to say. He knew what he wanted, staring at the water, but he doubted he would get that tonight.

Getting Emma here had been hard enough—no pun intended, Marcuso thought, thinking of his state of arousal—but he couldn't risk ruining their relationship with such a proposition delivered at the wrong time, in the wrong circumstance, at the wrong point in their relationship. He sighed, earnestly hoping she would give him a sign.

Emma and Marcuso started spending a lot of time together at school. Sometimes hanging out when her parents let her go out after church. Her and Marcuso made plans to go check out a movie the day before. When he got there he dad hassled him a little, asking him questions, and mentioning that he wasn't afraid to go after any one who hurt his only girl.

Emma rushed him over to the car, not wanting her farther to scare him off. She was a little surprised when she saw they were heading out of town. He drove up to the lake and hopped out the car. She smiled sliding off her pumps before walking on the sand. She smiled back at him before lifting the skirt of her dress and walking down the hill till she got to where the edge of the water was. She could only see a little with the headlight of his car.

Marcuso's eyes widened as she brazenly stepped out of the car, flipped off her shoes, and proceeded to the edge of the pond. Well, if there ever was a sign, that surely was it! He turned away from the rear seat, where he had been about to retrieve a picnic basket. Maybe the food would go bad now but he didn't rightly care. His cock throbbed in his trousers as he advanced towards her, where she was now standing in the water, looking at the moon, her feet immersed and her skirt lifted up to keep it from getting wet.

It was like a spell for him. Flicking off his own shoes, he walked up to her, shivering just a little as the water immersed his toes. She stood there, obviously aware of his presence but not paying him immediate heed. What did that mean? Hesitation? Or was just being a tease? He resolved to find out, placing his hands on her shoulders which supported the light and flowing polka dotted dress. He moved his head to her ear. "Hey." He said softly.

She didn't hear him till he was at the edge of the water. He came up behind her and leaned his body on her. She liked the feel of the cold water, the air around them was warm. She wasn't sure if it was because of the tension around them or the air was just that way. She turned around toward him a grin on her face. " So instead of going to the movies, are we going swimming?" She walked around him her feet splashing both of them a little as she walked the little circles. She didn't want to sit still she wanted to do something.

"Ahh... yeah. About that. I was kinda just. Wanting to have an evening picnic. I got a basket in the ca—" His mouth clamped shut as she leaned over and splashed a surprisingly mighty shoot of water towards him. He jolted to the right just in time but he still got pretty wet.

"Hey!! I'll show you!" He abandoned the pretense. He was going to teach her a lesson now, one she wouldn't soon forget! He saw his target and began to move toward her with haste, and she stood there, smiling a teasing smile, clearly wanting him to. Just as he was poised to seize her, and, hopefully begin the union he'd wanted from the moment they had met, she playfully stepped out of the way.

It caught him completely be surprise, and he tripped on a rock on the lakebed. End over end he plunged, fully clothed, into the shallow water. He could hear her laughing uproariously before he even surfaced. Shaking his head he went red as a beet. Wonderful. Had he just screwed this up completely? Would he be left alone to shiver in the dark by a woman who wanted nothing to do with someone so clumsy, so easily deceived?

She shrieked at first from the water that shot up her dress from his fall. All she could do was laugh and shiver. She had only planned on going to the movies. Not on swimming and getting her clothes wet. "You're the cutest little thing when you turn all red like that," she smiled, teasingly pulling on his cheeks the way that older relatives always do. " You owe me. First you make me miss the movie I had been waiting for. Secondly you got me all wet. What are you going to do to make it up to me?" She wrapped her arms around him


A young man who is somewhat shy and prone to blushing. He is easily flustered by his own thoughts and desires, particularly when it comes to his attraction to Emma. Clumsy and hesitating, he lacks confidence in pursuing a romantic relationship.

She shrieked at first from the water that shot up her dress from his fall. All she could do was laugh and shiver. She had only planned on going to the movies. Not on swimming and getting her clothes wet. "You're the cutest little thing when you turn all red like that," she smiled, teasingly pulling on his cheeks the way that older relatives always do. " You owe me. First you make me miss the movie I had been waiting for. Secondly you got me all wet. What are you going to do to make it up to me?" She wrapped her arms around him

Well, getting a faceful of wet breast was not what Marcuso expected to happen, but if his status of arousal that immediately peaked when she pulled him to her was any indication, he didn't rightly care. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, sliding up to her waist, and began kissing. Where did not matter. He wanted to claim her flesh while she presented it to him. He wanted her badly. He found his hand sliding up her skirt, gracing her soaked thigh with his touch. He interrupted the delivery of affection to look up into her eyes. He smiled as he held her and couldn't wait to see what she had in store for him.


A public relations officer with the ability to influence important decisions. He maintains a professional demeanor, often using diplomacy to handle sensitive situations. Despite his role, he can be somewhat intimidating and isn't easily swayed by emotional pleas. He's known for his calm and cool responses, even when faced with aggressive confrontation. His appearance isn't explicitly described in the story, but it's suggested that he holds a certain authority and respect within his position. Additionally, he has a subtle perverted side which comes into play when given an opportunity to push boundaries under the guise of professionalism.

Peter knew exactly why the tennis superstar wanted to see him. Of all the leading tennis stars, she was the one that didn't qualify for the French Open Tournament. Even as a pass winner, there were now new strict guidelines that allowed players to qualify. She was suppose to have played at least 7 games in the last 6 months. He didn't come up with the rules, but now he had to justify it to the young tennis star. Off course he had the power to change the ruling if she could provide a valid reason why she was unable to comply with the requirements. He wanted to keep an open mind as she was famous, but he knew he had to be diplomatic in dealing with the situation.

Peter was sitting in the lounge area waiting for the star to arrive. He had seen many of them but rarely had he ever interacted one and one with them. For some reason he was anxious and yet some amount of fear in dealing with her. Hopefully it would all end well without causing a big scene. He was just a public relation officer that was meant to deal with a famous tennis star

Maria was furious with the decision of the board not to allow her straight entry in to the competition. She had one many majors and titles throughout her career so far, even topping the world rankings chart at some point. She thought they were being totally disrespectful to her, especially after injuries she had suffered. Her team had set up an appointment for her to see one of the committee about appealing the decision and hopefully getting it overturned.

Turning up at their headquarters, she was shown to an office by a secretary before being left alone. Knocking on the door, Maria stepped in without waiting for an answer, appearing in what seemed like a lounge rather than an office. Maria recognized the man who was sitting down, he was a public relations officer and she had no idea why he was here. "They sent you? Is this a joke?" Her tone wasn't a happy one, her hands rested on her hips of her white flowing skirt. Above was a dark green tank top, exposing her arms which had a slight tan color to them.

To Peter's surprise it seems that Maria was aware of his portfolio. His main job was to convince her that the board decision was the best whiling hearing her case. He was known to be very diplomatic, but Maria had already formed certain biases against him before he even started speaking. Her tone in a condescending manner possible expecting a higher ranked official. He knew very well that he shouldn't be offended and quickly stared at her. Clearly she didn't realize he had the power to influence the decision.

"Well you are free to leave Ms. It would make my job so much easier by saying you didn't have any justification for being entered into the tournament!" He removed his eyes off the shapely figure and focused on the note book before him. It was up to her to state her case. If she wished to condemn the board choice and hope for redress, she would still be in this little predicament she currently is in.

Placing her hands on her hips, Maria calmed down and started to explain herself. "I have been injured, it hasn't been my fault that I haven't been able to complete a certain number of games. Surely the board can show some compassion and give me entry in to the first round?" The anger she showed earlier had completely gone, it was almost as though she had turned desperate.

Maria had a lot of pressure on her shoulders at the moment. Sponsors needed her in the tournament if they were going to get any money back on her. She would lose the contracts she had with them and she would just be living on the prize money earned by her finishing place and with her injury problems, she wouldn't be getting far.

Peter knew she was trying to intimidate him and his cool calm response quickly put her in her place. It was almost teasing to see how she simmered down knowing that he was the one she had to deal with if she wanted any recourse. She quickly started blabbering on about the difficulties she encountered in her season this year. Why he understood it, it wasn't enough to warrant a change of the decision made.

"Yes we are well aware of your injuries Maria!" He smiled at her. "We didn't just make this decision to spite you, but there are 90 other players that met the requirement. Do you think it would be fair to them to just evict them and replace them with you?" He was being honest with the deliberations held. As he spoke he couldn't help but notice how sexy she was. "You see, we want to reward the hard working players in the sport, not those that choose to vacation in the sun all the time!" It was a poke at her tanned skin off course.

Looking at her arms, realizing he must of seen the tan, Maria shook her head in disbelief. "I went abroad to have surgery" she replied. Turning around, she showed the scar on her shoulder blade, along with a bra strap that was showing. "You have players in the tournament who haven't even played qualifiers before, how is that allowed? It is as though they have just taken my place"

Moving closer to him, she sat down and started to plead with him. "Is there not anything you can do? Please? Just help me out, you know you will lose attendances if I'm not playing." Maria did have a point, she was one of the most popular players in the sport, mainly because of her looks, although she didn't like to think that.

It was a valid point. Some of the other committee members did make exception to the rule. Usually they didn't specify on what ground, just said after consulting the players, he/she did provide valid reason for not meeting the requirements. She was appearing more desperate as she even offer to show her one of the scars of her surgery. From the back view he could see why many spectators would want to see her. She was in awesome shape. He couldn't see the scar fully and the idea of getting one of the sexiest women in the world to show a little more flesh.

"Do you have the medical reports? I can't verify that is truly a surgical scar either, you'll have to remove your bra strap and allow me to inspect it further." His tone quite calm and almost professional as all the pleas she made seem to fall on deaf ears.

"No, I don't have the reports on me, they are with my surgeon. Yeah fine" Maria said, approving of him inspecting it. Whilst sitting, she turned around and pulled her hair out of the way, lowering her strap to her arm pushing her top tank to the side to allow her shoulder blade to be visible, "can you see it?" she asked. It wasn't to big but it was wasn't tiny it could of been seen at a distance.

Maria wasn't sure if he was inspecting it or not, she couldn't see his sight on her properly whilst looking over her shoulder. Her little earrings hung from her ear lobes, shaking with her constant moving of her head trying to look at him. Turning around she came face to face with him. "Is that proof enough?" she asked, pulling her strap back up.

Peter was more interested in viewing the exposed flesh. He did notice the scar and also the soft rise of her mounds under her arms. He was feeling perverted with what he was getting the superstar to do for him, a mere PRO. "Yes I've seen it!" He lifted his eyes to her face as watched her eyes. He wanted to smile but kept it in.

"I have to give my report to the committee tomorrow! I can't recommend anything favorable until I see that medical report!" He started packing away his papers into his brief case. "I have a number of meeting now, but for you, just to show how caring I am!" The smile sneaked out. "I can meet you over dinner tonight. Bring your report then!" He stood to his feet and then looked at her again, more at her body this time.

"I trust that you would be more appealing to help make my mind up!" He wasn't very explicit but the way he was looking at her would give her some ideas of what he was suggesting. "At the french Riviera at 8.00pm?"


A highly accomplished tennis star, known for her athletic physique and sun-kissed tan. Her attire often includes stylish sportswear such as white flowing skirts and dark green tank tops that highlight her toned arms. She has an assertive personality, unafraid to express her displeasure when she feels disrespected or treated unfairly. Despite her fiery temper, she can also show vulnerability and desperation when under pressure. She's aware of her popularity not just for her sporting prowess but also for her looks, though she doesn't like to acknowledge the latter.

Peter was more interested in viewing the exposed flesh. He did notice the scar and also the soft rise of her mounds under her arms. He was feeling perverted with what he was getting the superstar to do for him, a mere PRO. "Yes I've seen it!" He lifted his eyes to her face as watched her eyes. He wanted to smile but kept it in.

"I have to give my report to the committee tomorrow! I can't recommend anything favorable until I see that medical report!" He started packing away his papers into his brief case. "I have a number of meeting now, but for you, just to show how caring I am!" The smile sneaked out. "I can meet you over dinner tonight. Bring your report then!" He stood to his feet and then looked at her again, more at her body this time.

"I trust that you would be more appealing to help make my mind up!" He wasn't very explicit but the way he was looking at her would give her some ideas of what he was suggesting. "At the french Riviera at 8.00pm?"

Seeing him pack up his papers getting ready to leave, Maria was certain her appeal would be over. But a lifeline was given to her over a dinner invite. Watching him as he looked her over, she got the impression he was checking her out and was more interested in her body than her actual self. "Erm... sure, I'll be there" she said, nodding her head. Once the meting was over, Maria went back to her manager who had a copy of her medical report. Placing it in an envelope, she kept it close, careful not to lose it as she was sure it was her ticket to the tournament.

At 7:58pm, Maria arrived at the restaurant and told of a table that should have been reserved. Giving Peter's name and the timing, she was escorted to the man's table. "Hey" she said, sitting down. Wearing a tight fitting dress she brushed her hair behind her ear and drank some wine that had been poured for her.


A cute young man with short black hair, jeans that fit him just right and a nice shirt. He has a sense of energy and vitality, possesses a youthful charm and a playful nature. Aaron appreciates and values honesty and openness

Aaron was still panting real hard as he lay on the ground, recovering from that run up the hill. He was too exhausted to respond to Reya's comment about him being fast, but he smiled instead, gasping in the process. He squirmed out of his pack and let it roll over before clawing his way toward Reya's little picnic spot. He made his way up to her and did one final roll to land on his back beside her, staring up at the trees above them, which were obscuring the clear blue, afternoon sky. The leaves sighed around them, catching the breeze from afar, and everything felt so peaceful and serene. They were also alone too, which Aaron only began to realize just now.

"Yes, everything," he said, watching a branch wave at him in the air.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting, but my story isn't terribly special," Reya said, resting her head in her hands as she stared up at the canopy of leaves above them. "Hmmm... well, I was born in this state, but a smaller town. I worked for a photographer when I was in high school, setting up appointments and helping develop film—learning a skill. It was a pretty sweet gig, but I never got to indulge much in my love of photography. We didn't have a lot growing up, so it was more important that I spend my time learning to hone other skills. Now, I work as an executive assistant in a small company—but I'm treated more like a concierge. I don't mind so much, though. It's nice to have connections..."

She sighed. "Sometimes it's a pain in the ass though. I don't see outside of my office for days at a time except to go home and go to the gym or the store. I don't often get to go out myself, unless I'm working. I have work friends—only work friends. Nobody else has seen me or approached me in a long time... I don't know. Even if they did, I don't see why they would be all that interested in spending time with me. I'm not very interesting." Shrugging, she turned to look at him. "What else did you want to know?"

"I was only expecting to hear more about you, Reya," Aaron said. He kept his eyes straight up, making out faces in the pattern of leaves above. "So you're doing just fine." She seemed to have her head screwed on straight, which was a good thing, but even if she had turned out to be crazy, he wasn't going to judge her, especially after what he had exposed her to.

The bit about her work life felt remarkably relatable. "Hey. I can totally relate. Well, at least when I was working, but I can understand where you're coming from, and I don't find you uninteresting at all. You're down to earth, and you appear to be sane, so those people who haven't seen you or approached you in some time? They're clearly missing out."

He turned his head so he could look at her from the side. "And patient. To be able to hear me out like that back there. That takes someone special and understanding." He paused for a moment, noticing that she was looking at him too. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Reya let her eyes rest on his face, finding it hard to believe that such a handsome man was older than she was. Then again, who was she to make assumptions? His words made her feel better—warm reassurance wrapping around her. She smiled at him and chuckled a little as he asked if she was seeing anyone. "Why, are you interested?" she teased, turning to her side so she could face him.

"But to answer your question, no. I haven't had time to go out and find someone worth my time—and someone who's interested in a girl like me." She shrugged and watched him, wondering if he would have been disappointed if she'd said she was taken. "Are you seeing anyone, Aaron?"

Aaron wanted to take her hand and give it a little squeeze when she said that she hadn't been able to find anyone interested in her (and worth her time), but it was already under her head and out of her reach. Aaron found it difficult to relax with her eyes on him like that, but since he was laying down, it seemed to be easier to manage. She was so gorgeous in that natural way which required no make-up or good lighting. And after learning she was in her mid-thirties, it just added to her appeal. He smiled at her. "Just wondering," he answered, noticing her turn to face him. He did the same, so he could see her without having to crane his neck.

He was, in fact, glad she was single, even though he would have accepted her being taken. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I like this. Feels nice."

"I was thinking it'd be nice to get out here on my own," Reya said with a nod. "But I think it's nicer with company." Flashing a smile she rolled back onto her back and stretched her arms above her head before letting them plop down at her sides to stay. The weather was just right for this kind of thing, and after running uphill with someone whose pace was much quicker than hers, she had to admit that resting like this was nice. "Mmm, I could almost take a nap right here," she said with a chuckle. "Too bad I'm not tired just yet. So you know more about me and I know a lot about you. What else could we talk about? Or should we stick with ourselves for now?"

Aaron remained on his side as he watched her roll onto her back, noticing her profile. He propped his head up on an elbow. "It's always good practice to keep the conversation revolved around ourselves," he said. "Something might happen. Perhaps it could be something exciting."

Reya turned her head to face him and smiled softly as he told her they should keep talking about themselves. "You think so, huh? What do you think might happen?" She asked, her eyes shining with mirth and mischief. Despite thinking that she was boring sometimes, she was pretty game for whatever came her way. She took many things in stride, including Aaron's story. She was finding that she liked being around him. It would actually be sort of sad to go their separate ways.

"Tell me more about yourself," she said, watching him. "It's your turn again."

"More about myself," Aaron said, chuckling. "Haven't you heard enough of me already?" He did feel a bit self-centered today and so childish that he was afraid he might have scared her off from ever considering a relationship with him. Did he just think of a relationship just now? Why, yes he did. But it also reminded him of something else.

"Alright," he said. "I used to be married. We weren't together for very long though. Not long enough to have any kids if you're thinking about that. It was more of a mutual split, a falling out." His expression grew dour for just a moment, before recovering when his eyes went to Reya's face. "She wanted more out of our relationship, while I was happy just... being. I guess she saw me losing my soul working so much, that she just couldn't find the spark anymore. So one day she decided to end it, and that was that. Even called me 'boring' when we got all heated about it. I think it was better that way. That we split, I mean."

He looked at Reya, still unable to grasp how young she looked despite her age. "I find it easy to open up to you," he said. "I... I guess I really like that about you." He was little nervous and felt like kicking himself for sounding so awkward, but hopefully she was more forgiving about that.