An imposter brings their dark clouds and threatens my sunny mood.

It is Sunday morning, and I will not procrastinate any longer; Pascal will not live rent-free in my mind. His name appears on the screen, and the dialling tone counts down the seconds.

“Pascal?”

“Yes, it has been a hectic week. Far too much to do.”

Someone is too pleased with themselves.

“Yes, exhausting.”

“No, not in a good way.”

Dirty pig, and yes, in a very, very good way.

“Dinner? Tonight?”

“Pascal, listen.” My tone drops.

“Yeah, you guessed right.”

“I know, we need different things.”

You should be faithful to your wife.

“Yes, it was good… while it lasted.”

I am bilious. “No, I am convinced. Yes, I think I sound convinced. It is what I want.”

“Yes… ciao… ciao.”

Disconnected, I breathe a sigh of relief. Damn, I should have said adieu – goodbye forever. It is a minor grievance, but Pascal understood.

Lisette is in the shower, and I lose myself in the echoes that carry a light-hearted tune.

“Saturday,” I sigh.

-=-

Late morning sunlight streams through the blinds, and the sight of the cafetière makes Lisette smile. She walks barefoot into the lounge, and fresh coffee steams in a cup for her. Ravishing without make-up, swathed in a thick bath towel, it hides her figure. I make room, comfortable in the corner of the settee, and she nestles into the other.

I understand her little gestures more now. “What is it?”

“Oh, it is nothing. I was only thinking.”

I huff, “Lisette.”

She grins and blows on her hot coffee.

“Anaïs, do you ever wonder what the future holds?”

“Oof, that is a big question.”

She shrugs and sips her coffee, “Is it? I think about it sometimes.”

I can play this game, too. “Well… I used to think about that, but not so much anymore. Plans change, sometimes without warning.”

She mulls over my words and places her cup down. “You know, Raphaël was not the one for me. I was crazy to think there might have been a chance.”

I know where this is going and deflect her. “He is still a good fuck, though?”

Lisette smiles, “Adequate. You have seen it, but he needs to learn how to use it.”

I sit there in disbelief.

“What? I like sex, so shoot me.”

“Only like?” We laugh. “It is important to know what good feels like.”

“No, Anaïs. I know what great feels like.” She beams, and her implication is clear. “And you avoided my question.”

“Okay,” I sigh, “I used to think about the future.” Such a personal admission requires a deep breath. “I thought my ex was the one for me, you know? I was engaged, I loved him, and we were making plans. I am glad I am not marrying him now.”

Maybe she understands my little gestures, too. Her delicate smile is a precious act of consolation.

“And you, Lisette? What does the future hold for you?”

Her smile broadens, “I do not know.”

I chuckle and salute her with my cup. “Take my advice. Keep being an open book. You are nineteen. Live your life. There is plenty of time to make plans.”

She shifts along the settee and leans against me, taking my hand. That thumb caressing the back of it will be the death of me. I want to capitulate, but I need to keep her at arm's length until I am sure.

“Anaïs, if I said my future comes one day at a time, is that wrong?”

I squeeze her hand with a sense of relief. “There is always tomorrow.”

My tears last night were joyful and laced with trepidation, and she understands why. There is always tomorrow; it is the day that never comes, or it is the day when you know.

“So,” she turns to look at me and rolls her eyes, “last night was a rendezvous, yes?”

I cannot hide the truth now. “Yes.”

For my honesty, I earn a welcome kiss, “Good. I hope there are many more.”

As she rests against me, we drink our coffee, and there is contentment in the silence.

I cannot stop smiling, truly, she understands me.

-=-

As the late afternoon light fails, I sit in quiet self-reflection. Naked beneath my satin robe, each sigh is like the remnants of an orgasm. It is a fuzzy feeling, yet I am realistic. Sitting at my desk, I scan down my marking book, and my mind is tiring. Lisette’s assignment is next, and I have held it back as a motivator. Finding it, I double-click.

It is their final assignment about Sylvia Plath. The subject matter is not easy; there is love, loss, and a descent into a fatal depression. We all have hindsight, but we need wisdom to understand life without it. I have that wisdom and find Slyvia’s works challenging to teach this year. I know, too, how I might rise again as a phoenix from the ashes.

Reading through her assignment, Lisette writes eloquently, and there is a subtext - hope. It flows through it, painted as vowels, and they rise as a lyrical promise from her soul. My heart swells with hers. Emulating Slyvia Plath’s style, Lisette confesses to the only person who might understand her... me.

Struck down at the last full stop, I lean on the desk with my hands through my hair. This love letter is bold, borne from an inner confidence. No wonder she was cryptic this morning. Yes, I might think this is arrogant, but something beautiful must shake me from this morass.

I sit up and roll my shoulders to loosen the tension. My pen hovers over the page; her assignment is impossible to score because it debases the sentiment. I cannot award this twenty because everyone will know. That would be my fatal conceit. I give it nineteen, and she will see twenty in my eyes.

It presents a new dilemma. How can I describe my feelings towards Lisette?

As I close my marking book, my stomach growls, and I must eat. A sudden rattle on the desk startles me.

Lisette is calling.

“Hello, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Sssh,” she is abrupt, “look at your phone.”

Her front camera is on, and I can see her face and naked shoulders.

“Lisette?”

“You cannot talk. Raphaël is here in the shower.”

The phone pans to the pedestal beside the bed; seeing the chrome rings, he is no longer constrained.

I giggle as she squints, bemused. “Stay and watch.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“When I finish here, can I come over to yours?”

I am dumbfounded, “Erm… yes, absolutely.”

“Okay, great,” she beams, and then she is suddenly deadpan. “I am muting you now. I hope you scream your apartment down.”

And with a sly wink, she disappears from view.

-=-

Over the white noise, I can hear Raphaël’s whimpering, and in the low light, the image is grainy. Blindfolded, his wrists and ankles are tied. His slender body ripples with excitement, and his appendage stands upright, throbbing with his heartbeat.

Denied since Thursday night, and he is that hard?

If Lisette is a novice, I cannot tell. Raphaël’s head rests on a pillow at the tail of the bed, and she smears her bald sex on his mouth. She moves effortlessly, her petite body poised like an Amazonian.

“Mmm, left to right. Yes! Make your tongue dance on my clit.”

She peers back, reaches out, and swats his erection, making it sway. Fuck! He is totally rigid.

“I will not touch you,” she glowers, “until you get this right.”

The giant poster on the wall behind them takes on a new meaning: Be Young and Shut up.

Do as you are told, Raphaël.

If he knows I am watching, I do not care. I am a fly on the wall and rabid with curiosity. This situation defines what they wrote, and this has been happening for weeks. My robe rests open, my chair tilts back, and I gaze down my body. Between my breasts, I can see my destination, and my caress glides around them. Enjoying the tingle from the smooth hillock of my mons, two fingers nestle into my sex; they are a mediocre alternative.

Lisette leans back, her back curls and thighs open, her hips loft, and I admire her self-control. I cannot compete. Fucking myself, the sticky sounds escalate as I try to resist the pleasure.

“Tongue, Raphaël. Put your tongue inside me.”

Flashing her eyes at the camera, she winks, and I almost lose it. In a moment of serendipity, Lisette almost capitulates, too.

Wriggling in tight circles, she clutches her breast, “Yes… deeper. Yes… there.”

Her lithe body squirms faster, still in control, but the signs are there.

“Better, much better. Mmm, Raphaël, you are nearly as good as she is.”

She muffles his approval, “Yes, and I love eating her hot… wet… cunt.”

He squirms at her lewdity, and Lisette repositions herself, clutching his hair. What simmered now boils within me.

“My ass, yes… lick it, use the tip of your tongue… flick… flick!”

She is captured now, with softer features, simpering as she surrenders.

“Fuck yes! I love that!” She steers his hips as he whimpers, “Ah ah, no begging, more licking.”

Squat above him, I can see his nostrils pushed against her sex. Caught in two minds, I do not know whether to envy or pity him. Her musky scent, that exquisite taste, and I know how soaked she gets. Scrabbling to reach the draw, I grab it: my relentless silicone boyfriend. Like Lisette, I drown out its moaning by driving it into my drenched sex.

“Now my clit, suck on the hood. Get me off…” Lisette gasps, “slowly… fuck! Slowly! Or you are going back in the cage!”

Watching her like this, I am surging, mesmerised by her confident body and determination. Lisette grips his hair, grinding on him. Clasping my breast, plucking on its nipple, sparks ignite the fire. I crave the incendiary and yearn for her touch. Finding my aching clit, rising flames lick at my resolve, singeing my self-control.

“Yes… suck. Mmm, good boy. Now, flick it with your tongue. This is how she does it.” Lisette dissolves into long whimpers, “Good boy, very good… boy.”

The undulations of her slender hips quicken, and that smouldering expression melts as she nibbles on her bottom lip. That familiar long stare comes with upturned eyes – she is close.

“You know… you know where I am going when I am done with you? Huh?”

Raphaël does not stop; he is learning his place.

“She is going to fuck me. She makes me orgasm in ways you cannot. Get me ready for her. That is all you are good for.”

She stifles his muffled squeals of pleasure, pressing her sex firmly onto his mouth. I quiver as my imagination conspires with her words and my legs quake. Caught by surprise, a spicy orgasm ambushes me as a rush of urgent spasms.

“Yes… side-to-side… oh, fuck….” The strength of her diction weakens, “Yes… yes!”

Her third climax approaches. Releasing Raphaël’s hair, her eyes squeeze shut, and she throws her head back, stretching out as tight tremors seize her. A lash of her hair follows as she lurches, and it cripples her. Shaking on her mount, shuddering so much that her breasts jiggle. Her cries lack the conviction of a big one. I will provide those for her later. I know the state she is in, swollen and over-sensitive, easy to provoke into a fusillade of orgasms.

Her momentum slows to a halt. Peaky with a vacant expression, Lisette blows upwards to dislodge a lock of hair.

“Mmm, good boy, you are improving.”

Raphaël lies there, helpless and panting for air.

She dismounts and crawls from the bed.

-=-

I must not let my imagination run free. If this were me, Raphaël would get the most rampant fucking of his short life. Then another one, and another one. I would drain him as my slave. Grinning, Lisette prowls like a tigress with evocative hair draped over one eye. Lisette straddles him, unhurried, and takes him in hand. He lofts his hips, stabbing upwards in his eagerness to fuck. I cannot see, but I can guess. She is rubbing the swollen head of his cock against her folds. I admire her control and patient repetition.

“This is what you need to keep you in line, yes?”

“Oh God,” he pleads, it is profound. “Yes.”

“Mmm, good boy, you are very obedient. There is hope for you yet.”

Lisette positions herself, and he is a condemned man, growling for relief. Sliding my toy in and out of my sex, Raphaël is not as fortunate. Cheating my body, I know it wants to surge again, and I deny myself.

“Mmm, you are turned on. Who owns this cock?”

“You do,” he gasps.

“Mmm, correct. Do you want me?”

“More than anything!”

“I am not convinced. That is your penis talking. I want to hear your conviction from the heart.”

Rising, Lisette denies him, and he howls. Grinning, she lowers herself, and he groans. A wriggle of her hips, and she rubs her sex back and forth over the length of his cock. If only Lisette knew my condition - every pore on my body tingles, and I cannot move without that desperate ache for her.

Lisette rises.

“Oh fuck!” There is only desperation in his voice. “Please. I cannot take any more.”

“Do you want me, Raphaël?”

“Yes! Yes, I want you so much!”

Lisette shakes her head, “No, you do not.”

“I do! I do! Please! I really do!”

Reaching behind her body, I think she has his balls in her hand.

“You will have to serve both of us.”

“Oh God! Yes! Yes, please!”

Lisette measures his reaction as if he was a rat lab. His torture continues, and she grinds against the only rigid part of his writhing body. Raphaël is a frantic mess of broken words and ragged breathing.

I am nothing except heat and liquid lust. I should not hold back; this is beyond my limits. I see Lisette’s fleeting look at the camera and that wicked, wicked grin. Noisy blood swooshes in my ears, and peals of hot ecstasy scorch my body. I am very close.

She holds him at the root of his cock, and it is so angry and swollen. “What lesson have you learned, Raphaël?”

“You… you are in charge.”

“Yes, and?”

“You own my orgasm.”

“Good boy. I own your orgasm.”

“Do you know something?”

“W… what?”

“Our new lover is watching you right now. Would you like to show her what you have learned?”

“Oh, God, yes!”

“Good boy. She is beautiful, and the things she can do? She knows how to fuck me. If you are good, she will fuck you too.”

“Lisette!” I drive the whirring toy in deeper, clinging to reality.

“Anaïs looks at me in the same way, too. I know she wants us. Do you want her as well? Like this?”

He is sobbing for air, “Lisette! Oh fuck! Yes! Yes! I know she wants to fuck me. Please, please, I am begging you!”

The swirling toy is Raphaël, and the satin is Lisette. I am nothing but heat and flames. He squirms inside me, fucking me from behind, swollen and rigid, controlled by my grip of his leash. She lies beneath me, and I am licking her folds, tasting their congress. Her tongue is on my clit, cajoling the fierce animal within me.

Lisette is poised to strike, hovering over his anguished body. She grips his shaft, and a quick wrist will put him out of his misery.

“You can cum. Make it a good one. There will be no more until Saturday. You are going back in the cage.”

Lisette impales herself and takes it deep. “This is all the cunt you are getting tonight.”

Raphaël flails with his hips in anguish, and it is too late for him. His plosive moans accelerate in seconds, and stretched out as a cruciform wretch, he quivers.

“Aw, poor Raphaël,” she opines with pity. “You have to cum.”

Grunting as if his mortality slips away, Lisette takes her fill. Her eyes look directly into mine, grinning, and I am undone. It is unstoppable; I need this, I need Lisette, and I need his cock. Arching my back, I am a ball of light. It swells through me, pulsing and tightening my body, flowing into my limbs, fingers, and toes.

The temors halts, and I am stretched out. Consumed by its relentless force, I clamp down on my squirming punisher, and the savagery of my plight rampages through my body. My shaking hand drops it to the floor, and I chase out the I convulsion with urgent fingers. Nothing else matters as it washes through my body and empties my mind.

I slump into the chair, and weaker tremors make me twitch. I cannot bear to pull my robe over my body; everything is sensitive.

Lisette looms on the screen, grins, and then disconnects.

My phone vibrates.

I hope you liked that. See you in an hour xxx

-=-

I glow everywhere. The frisson from my black satin robe constantly reminds me of my condition. I shower, wear some lipstick, tidy my hair, and eat a hastily prepared Croque Monsieur. Glancing at the clock, it has been over an hour. My excitement is an exquisite torture.

I bolt for the door when it buzzes.

Lisette stands before me in a denim jacket and a long, sloppy t-shirt, cinched with a belt. Those clunky boots clear the threshold, and I devour her, removing her rucksack and slamming the door. She throws her arms around me, and we pirouette until her back is against the wall. Urgent lips meet mine, our mouths open, and feverish hands grope in this dark void.

“Oh God, Lisette,” I gasp. “I need you.”

“I need you, too.”

Lip-locked, pressing and receiving, our tongues dance again, and we snort for air. I do not need the words I have groped for all day. The satin bow releases, and a warm hand pulls it open. My tormentor looks up in abject innocence as she caresses my breasts and their aching nipples.

She takes my hand, leading me towards the settee. My satin robe falls to the ground. Lisette throws her jacket to the floor, clasps my face in her hands, and propels her lips to mine with her tongue in my mouth, and I am ablaze in an instant. As a fire, it takes all the oxygen from my body; I pant and watch as she removes the belt and her t-shirt. Her lacy bra top goes, and the belt goes around my neck as an impromptu leash. After removing her boots, Lisette bunches her panties in her hand.

“Lie on the settee.” Her curt words have no time for niceties.

Reclined, she takes my ankle and elevates my leg. Holding it up, she kneels on the seat cushion, towering over me, grinning with a carnal determination that makes my blood race. She towers over me with a resolute calm, intoxicating my mind. Lisette presses her sex against mine. At our union, her slippery heat burnishes how I ache for more.

I capitulate instantly. “Oh fuck.”

“No swearing.”

Pushing her panties into my mouth, they stifle my surprise. She has me by all my senses, and my upturned eyes ease. Taking the belt in her hand, she clasps my leg, directing me against her. Moving in harmony, Lisette writhes as a totem to the wicked.

I am hers, without question, exchanging control for my needs.

Next Saturday is six long days away.