The House

11. you realize you have nothing to be frightened of

You realize you have nothing to be frightened of, really – and the Butler’s right. Tonight’s your night to be brave and bold.

You open up the white door and head into the bathroom, changing back into your robe. Then you head to the back wall, use your key, and walk back down the hidden hall.

“Mistress –” the redhead says, spotting you first. “We didn’t mean to –” she begins, and you wave your hand.

“Don’t apologize,” you say.

“I wasn’t going to,” the black woman says looking challengingly at you, like you’re something – someone – to be conquered, given half a chance.

You sit down on the chair in front of their bed, like a queen taking seat on her throne. “Please, continue.”

The redhead casts another worried glance at you – but then whatever the black woman’s doing beneath the sheets begins again, and she now has her full attention.

You realize no mysteries will be solved this way, not when you can’t see anything. As the Mistress of the House, isn’t it your right to know what’s going on? You walk to the bottom of the bed, their eyes on you, their hips still rocking, and grab hold of the sheets that cover them, and slowly pull them off.

It’s like watching a distant portrait resolve itself, skin of dawn and skin of dusk revealed, one pink set of n*****s, the other cherry-wood dark. Their breasts are rubbing against one another and their hands are cupped into one another’s crotch, thighs sliding on top of one another as they do so.

Unaccustomed feelings stir inside you – jealousy, hunger, a deepening ache.

The black woman does something more to make the redhead moan. And then the redhead dives down to suck on the other woman’s breast and it’s her turn to gasp out loud. You change seats to be nearer, on the edge of the bed. You don’t want to interrupt them but you need to see what’s going on. Your body needs to know.

The redhead kisses the black woman’s breast while her hand is buried down where you can’t see. But at the thought of having your own n*****s sucked by her, or by the other woman – or maybe both at once -- urges light inside. You move even closer on the bed and your robe slides open over your thighs like an invitation to yourself.

Do you start touching yourself? If so, touch here.

If not, touch here.