She was a vision. In the halogen lights above the radio station’s garage, her golden hair glowed white. Her eyes flickered with unrestrained passion. She stared up at him, teeth bared, her eyes for him and him alone.

“Hey, dumbass. What do you call this?”

Stephen stared down at the bundle grasped in her hands.

“Those are…” he bit his tongue, “…wires?”

“They’re cables. You have to coil them. You can’t tie them off like fucking climbing rope, or they’ll get kinked. I’ve shown you this a dozen times.”

“Man žēl, Amy. Give me an hour, I will fix—“

She closed her eyes. Savouring the moment, perhaps. When she spoke, her voice was slow. Calm.

“Stephen. I have already closed and locked the equipment cage. I have closed and locked the garage. I am not going to open them back up at eight thirty PM just so you can take another hour to fix your own fuckup. We’ll do it in the morning.”

The poor girl must have been exhausted. Stephen could tell – for how toned Amy was, there were signs. A slump in those broad shoulders. A lean in those muscular thighs. When she wasn’t heading up the Street Team, he expected that she spent all of her time in the gym. That was no way for a young lady to live.

And she was not getting any younger, either. She hadn’t mentioned her age, but Stephen could do the math – she had taken the same program in university that he was midway through finishing, and had graduated four years earlier. Stephen was twenty, and that made Amy twenty-six.

No way for a young lady to live at all.

“Would you like to walk home with me?” he offered.

Amy blinked. “No,” she said, and that was all.

It was no matter, Stephen decided. If not today, then perhaps tomorrow. Or next week. He had many more weeks of this internship for her to see the evidence of his sincerity. And through Grace and persistence – perhaps he would one day see what his roommate had already glimpsed.

***

He envied Leon. His jealousy for his friend and partner was not yet like a raging fire, but like the lighting of a tinderbox – bright in short spurts, but there would always be another. Another incident. Another reminder.

It was Leon who got the most of their supervisor’s attention. The flirty looks. The way she laughed when he told a joke. Each brief touch of her hand on his arm. These things, they burned at Stephen like acid, but even these he could accept. He was from a modern country, and he did not suffer from what Westerners called the toxic masculinity.

But it had been more than that between them. Stephen did not know the full story, only that when Leon had collapsed on the first day of the job, that Amy had nursed him back to health with his mouth on her peža.

Leon had denied it, of course. He said that it was not reward but punishment, and that when he tried to press for more that Amy had tried to strangle him with her feet. Ridiculous! Did his black friend not realize what Stephen would give to have such a woman choke him with her dirty feet? It was two fantasies for the price of one, and Leon spoke of it like a burden!

“Would you do it again, though?” he’d asked in frustration.

Leon had been hesitant. “I need this job, bro… and I don’t think she’d take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Stephen’s roommate was not an unattractive man. He was tall and dark, which he knew the Canadian girls liked, but he was so thin as to be insubstantial. And Leon’s habits were terrible – schoolwork worried him so much that to compensate he filled his evenings with cannabis and self-pleasure. It beggared belief that he had ever been with a woman at all.

And this was the kind of man that Amy chose?

Perhaps there was some trait, some feature that Stephen himself lacked. He was a foreigner – an international student – but that made him exotic, did it not? Although he winced whenever he had to find his country on a map, or explain that no, it was not a part of Finland or God forbid, Russia. He was a large young man, though most of his weight had been gained since coming to Canada and for that he blamed the local diet.

He was kind. Considerate. And not sexually inexperienced, either! The women of his homeland were very open-minded, and many of his former partners could attest to his strength, stamina and warm cuddles! But he was not in Riga, but Hamilton. And the women of his new country demanded more than casual hook-ups.

He should be happy for Leon, he knew, that not only had his nervous brother found love, if only briefly, with so spectacular a woman. But he could not find it in himself to be, and that was his burden to carry.

As he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, he heard his phone buzz on the dresser beside him. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that the message was from Amy.

Friday calltime is 4PM for setup. Don’t be late, fucknuts.

She wouldn’t call Leon “fucknuts” as well, would she? That meant she’d tailored the message for Stephen specifically. She was thinking of him, alone and late at night, and with that knowledge he could sleep happily.

In his dreams, he saw her again. She struggled naked in a tangle of living cords, her bare chest heaving as she strained to break free from the writhing mass that held her down. But not even Amy’s mighty arms were up to the job, and slowly the tentacles wound their way up from her wrists to her shoulders, her shoulders to her neck, and she sank into the pile with an agonizing scream.

Just then Stephen appeared like Saint Roland, raiment fluttering in the wind, and wielding a giant sword that he plunged into the heart of the great knot. The pile fought him, but he grabbed a single wriggling strand and wrapped it between the fist and elbow of his free hand. Once his grip was secure, he yanked it taut and looped the line around his arm again.

Then again. And again, until Amy’s form could once more be seen. Her eyes were closed, her breath still.

Stephen roared, and the tendrils shrivelled back and released their prize. He thrust his sword into the cold ground and took Amy into his arms. She felt so delicate.

No, the dream-Stephen cried to himself, not when we could have had so much more time together. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed deeply, seeking whatever warmth still clung to her. He found it and refused to let go, until once more she gasped and her blue eyes flew open once more.

You saved me, whispered the dream-Amy, voice thick, nipples engorged. I was lost until you came. How can I ever repay you?

She was a strong woman. A powerful woman. But she had used that strength to hold herself upright for far too long. She needed a soft man to come down to.

My lady… would you do me the honour of sitting on my face?

He woke up to sticky sheets. He threw them in the wash, texted his professor to say that he wouldn’t make it in for his 21st Century Media class, and went to work.

***

In all the time he’d spent interning there, Stephen realized, he’d spent precious little time inside the radio station itself.

The Street Team’s role was outside, in transit. In the last month, Stephen had been to three community centres, two job fairs, two fall fairs and an outdoor music festival. But aside from meeting in the break room or moving gear in and out of the garage, the squat office building studded with antennae was alien to him.

As he stepped through the glass doors, he saw no reception desk or directory, just a few sparse cubicles, a handful of middle-aged people with headsets hopping from one to the next.

It was the silence that most shocked him. Most office buildings would have soft music playing throughout the room, but inside this one it was quiet. The cobbler’s sons went without shoes here.

Out of reflex, Stephen reached out as a quick-moving figure rushed past him. A short, irritated-looking woman with a nose ring and faint traces of blue in her hair glared back at him.

“I am sorry,” he said quickly, “but can you tell me where I might find Amy?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at the name. She stabbed a thumb behind her and continued wordlessly on her way.

Stephen didn’t know what he had expected. Maybe an office. But the cubicle he had been shown was no different than any of the others surrounding it, save for its position in the corner and the tiny plaque marked “Promotions” on the outside.

She was hunched over her desktop computer, putting together what looked like a schedule. She looked tired behind her glasses – he didn’t even know that she wore glasses. Her white blouse and skirt looked just as strange.

“Amy?”

She looked up from her monitor. “Stephen? I don’t need you back here for another couple of days yet. If this isn’t important, I’m busy right now.”

It struck him that he didn’t know what her job fully entailed. The Street Team only met part-time, so it stood to reason that she had other duties.

Amy sighed and reached for a flash drive beside her elbow. “Look, you’re into electronic music, right? This new producer keeps giving me her demo tapes hoping that I’ll put them on the air. As if I have any say at all in what we play here.”

He loved EDM. He’d spent his summers traveling up and down the Baltic coast going to concerts… but he knew well that the gift was just a distraction. He cleared his throat, steeling himself.

“Stephen, I have things to do. What the fuck do you—“

“Go out with me. At a time of your choice, of course. Please.” He’d mangled the order of his words, but his intentions at least were pure. “You are a beautiful woman, but you seem so lonely. I would like to see you smile.”

Amy was quiet at first. A crack formed at the edge of her lip and…

… she laughed. He felt as if he were beginning to sink.

“Seriously, Stephen. You don’t think I’m… I don’t know, kind of old for you?”

“You were not too old for Leon,” he snapped back, and then froze.

Her fingernail tapped the desk in front of her. Once. Twice. She withdrew, and held the nail daggerlike against her lip.

“So,” she said finally. “You’re mad that I fucked your roommate a handful of times, and not you. I get it now.”

“I did not mean—wait, a handful of times?”

“Well, you do remember that I had you clean out the inside of the van last week, right? I hope you put some effort into it, because we got really active back there. Leon’s actually pretty energetic once he’s properly motivated.”

Stephen’s head was spinning. Leon was not only his roommate, but his best friend. Why would he keep such a thing from him? Unless he hadn’t… but then why would Amy tell him such a story?

She rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m willing to be fair, so there’s no bad blood between you. Do they have ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ where you’re from?”

“Is that a television show?”

“No. Come with me.”

She stood up, taking a quick peek out of her cubicle before reaching back for her chair. Beckoning to Stephen, she strode in a direct line for the nearby supply closet. Once inside, surrounded by shelves of printer paper and wires, she dumped the chair on the floor and took off her glasses.

“A few ground rules. It’s hard for me to get clothes that fit my shoulders, so the shirt stays on, and keep your hands off of it. Deal?”

“Deal, but…”

She considered hooking the glasses to her shirt collar, then thought better of it and placed them on a nearby shelf instead before pulling her phone from her pocket. A few taps on the screen, and she slid it back.

“Also, it goes without saying, but this place isn’t soundproof, so try to keep it down.”

“But…”

“Six minutes and thirty-five seconds left, Stephen. Make it good.”

“You don’t want to… I don’t know, have drinks first?”

“Oh, sure. We can get a couple of watered-down pints at the campus pub, is that what you were thinking? Wake up, Stephen. You’re getting what you want right now, if you’ve got the balls to take it. Now sit.”

He took a seat, the stacks surrounding him on both sides like towers.

Amy slipped her hands beneath her skirt, coming away with a pair of black panties. She looked back at Stephen and rolled her eyes.

“You might want to start getting undressed. Five minutes and fifty seconds, by the way.”

He gulped and reached for his waistband. Taking off his clothes in the narrow space was going to be… problematic. He rolled his jeans down to his ankles and went back for his briefs, only to discover to his horror that he was limp.

Leon was the one who performed best under pressure, he remembered.

Before he could do anything about it, Amy swung one leg over his lap, then the other. She was not a big girl, but she was all muscle and heavier than she looked, and her weight drove the breath out of him. He felt her fingertips brushing his cock, and her breath was hot in his ear.

“This doesn’t bode well…” she teased. She pulled her hand away and placed it beneath her skirt instead. Stephen couldn’t see what she was doing, but his imagination filled in the gaps. Determined not to be left out, he pushed a hand under his belly and began to stroke furiously.

The woman he desired was there, straddling him. To have her so close, skin to skin… so what if it hadn’t happened the way he’d imagined? In such a small space, she consumed him. Her legs clamped against him, the smell of her body wash—

“Wanna trade?”

His cock beginning to rise on its own, he let go, curling his fingers and reaching below her skirt. He could feel her wetness, but she was incredibly tight that he could only put a single digit inside her.

With a nod of agreement, they began.

He pushed into her, beyond the first knuckle and onto the second, every centimeter a challenge to be answered. He heard her moan as he began to rub slowly at her inner recesses, until finally another finger could fit. Amy licked her palm and replaced it on his shaft. She looked straight into his eyes, and squeezed.

Pain exploded from Stephen’s groin, and for one panicked instant he thought she’d crushed him. But then she relaxed her grip, and as the bloodflow returned he saw that he was even harder than before.

“Ak dievs…” he hissed.

“You like that, don’t you?” she whispered, and clenched again. “You think I’m going to be any softer on the inside? That’s what I do kegels for.”

He didn’t try to pull her away – given the strength of her grip, he didn’t dare. Instead, he stabbed his fingers upward, burying himself to the hilt in her tight pussy, his fingers slick and warm.

And Amy… smiled.

“Less than two minutes left. Last chance.”

He yanked his hand free, leaving her gasping. Hands on either side of her hips, he pulled her down onto him, and with a muffled groan he plunged inside of her.

Stephen’s head rushed. He had everything he wanted, every part of her. She had never been more beautiful than at that moment, her features red with effort. He could not name how he felt before, but he knew then: This was love.

He tried to pull his cock back for a thrust, and found that he could not. Her thighs were still closed rigidly around him, too rigid for him even to move. He was losing sensation below the waist. Friction. He needed friction.

“One minute, ten seconds.” She sounded almost bored.

With the limited feeling he had left, he wiggled back and forth in his chair. Surely she must still feel him inside her. Surely she must want release as badly as he did!

“Fifty-five seconds. Almost done?”

“Nē! Please, Amy. Why are you—“

She placed a hand, still damp with spit, over his mouth. “What do you mean, why? Isn’t this what you wanted? Forty-five seconds, by the way.”

Stephen shook his head.

“Aw. It’s almost like you should have gotten to know me before putting me on a pedestal, huh? You’re lucky I’m a sucker for nice guys.” An insistent electronic beep began to sound, and Amy perked up. “Time’s up. Hold on tight – I don’t want to pull your dick off.”

Without warning, she tugged herself free. The rush was too much, too soon, for Stephen, and he erupted, splattering his seed across his own naked thighs before slumping forward in the chair.

Amy shook her head and retrieved her glasses from the shelf where she’d left them. Picking up her panties from the floor, she considered for a moment and stashed them in her skirt pocket.

“Thank you,” whispered Stephen.

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “What for? This never happened,”

By the time he was able to pull himself to his feet, Amy was already gone. She’d closed the door behind her.

Stephen grabbed a bundle of paper that looked relatively soft and cleaned himself up as best he could. He could not quite name the feeling that plagued him. Should he not be rapturous at such a moment? Had he not gained some victory?

Instead, he felt used. Like he’d been played for a fool.

He had to tell Leon, warn his friend what he was pursuing with this woman, this viper. And then he realized that Leon must have already known.

His phone buzzed, and he retrieved it from the pool of his trousers. The new message read: Friday. FRIDAY. Until then, fucknuts.

Her kiss still sat where she had laid it on his temple, a speck of virtue beneath her veneer of cruelty.

Perhaps…

Perhaps there was still a chance between them?