The complex contained a half dozen rows of townhouses arranged around a shared central courtyard. Her destination was on the far side of that courtyard, so she had to walk through the common area.
It was nice. Not fancy, but nice.
This complex was mainly occupied by junior officers and staff non-commissioned officers who worked at the nearby Marine Corps base at Quantico. Many of them had small, young families. Jordan smiled to herself as she walked past a small playground with a stray unpaired children's shoe abandoned on a bench near the swing set.
Jordan checked her watch. It was 7:45. Most of the children were likely being coaxed to bed. Exhausted parents were probably collapsing in front of a TV after doing battle with young children all day.
The air was sleepy. Jordan made her way through the nicely landscaped walkways that moved between the rows of townhouses, observing several neatly organized porches that showed yet more signs of young children. Small bicycles tucked behind grills. Little play kitchens next to stacked adirondack chairs.
Her destination was unit 60. Row 6, first unit on the left. Jordan took a deep breath as the door came closer, trying to regulate her breathing and walk casually.
She was secretly terrified that the military wives would see her and know why she was there. She left her wedding ring locked in the glove box of her Camry to soften the scandal of her being here. Her outfit definitely indicated a date, but not necessarily of the…benign variety…
Shaking her head to herself, she tried to seem casual as she walked. Like she belonged there.
Easy.
Or not.
In her mind's eye, Jordan ran a gauntlet of judgmental looks lurking just behind the front-room window shades of each and every townhouse she passed. Young mothers on the lookout for bad influences in their living space. Hostile, gossipy fingers parting blinds every so slightly, single, squinting eyes identifying her as "that girl…"
Premature tears of embarrassment welled just inside the corners of Jordan's eyes as she approached unit 60 and walked up the two steps to the stoop. She knocked briskly and hastily pulled her phone out of her purse to text her husband.
Jordan: Just got here.
The answer came immediately
David: I love you!
Jordan smiled, put her phone back into her purse, and waited, secretly willing her heart to slow. She made hasty adjustments to her hair as she heard the smooth, heavy approach of his footsteps. The lone inhabitant of unit 60.
The doorknob clicked and the portal opened quickly, confidently and wide.
Jordan, a thin, brunette, 24 year old grad student stood face to face with a tall, dark, broad, 35 year marine captain.
He was nearly a foot taller than her.
Mark smiled warmly as he looked down at his visitor.
"Jordan." His voice rumbled. "Glad you could make it. Please, come in."
He stepped aside to let her walk in.
Jordan shivered.
* * *
Sergeant Mark Rein had just settled down in his camp chair to pass the morning with his book when it occurred to him to check his phone. After his evening and morning with Molly, he had been pleasantly distracted. It was a nice feeling to have someone infatuated with you. He had conquered a married woman, and it had successfully relaxed his tensions to a surprising degree. He hadn't checked his phone since he had taunted his lover's husband the night before. He picked up the phone, entered the code, and unlocked it.
3 messages.
1 message from Shithead. Apparently Chris reached out at some point in the evening, and he had missed it.
Interesting.
He opened the message.
One word.
Shithead: Thanks
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Mark's eyebrows lifted, shrugging off the cryptic expression of gratitude sent by the new cuckold. He'd figure that out later.
Next message.
From Megan Poisson.
He smirked in disbelief. Hard to believe his luck, bedding two married women within a month of his first combat deployment. This could make it much harder to get on the plane when the final orders came.
Megan: Bonjour, Achilles. Hit me up if you're in the mood.
Even more interesting. This could take the morning in a new direction.
Third text…
From Corporal Arnold. Second squad leader.
Arnold: We had an incident last night. Jett got arrested. Underage drinking. They didn't end up charging him. He's home now, no DUI or anything.
Fuck.
Well…fuck.
Mark hit the dial button on Arnold's number. It rang twice…
"Hey sarge, what's…"
"What happened?" Mark cut him off.
"Just a kid at a party. Got caught drunk, didn't run, didn't resist. Cops arrested him, found out he was about to deploy, let him out when his parents showed up."
"Shit. No charges, though?"
"Nope."
"You talk to him?"
"Yep."
"He sober yet?"
"Yeah, I talked to him about an hour ago. He's pretty much shitting himself. First time he's ever been in any kind of trouble. Probably ever."
"Good."
"You gonna suspend his leave?"
Mark sighed. "That's up to the brass. I'm gonna talk to him first."
"OK. Take it easy, it could have been way worse."
"I'm aware of that. Thanks for the heads up."
They hung up. Mark scrolled through his phone contacts until he found Jett's number and dialed it.
It gave half a ring before
"Good morning, sergeant…"
"Good morning my ass, Jett," Mark barked into the phone. "Explain yourself."
"OK, first off, I fucked up. I know it. I'm really, really sorry. I went to this party, my buddies and everything, some girls…"
"I know what a party is, Jett."
"Right, okay…so, I was just hangin' out, and I had a few beers. I'm 20, it's like…I'm almost 21, it's not an excuse, but like…"
"I know how numbers work, Jett. They're not working in your favor. You know how I feel about excuses."
"Right, sorry. So like…the cops show up to tell us to turn down the music, and we do it, and they see some high school kid who was there, and he was passed out…once they started asking questions…everyone bolted."
"You didn't?"
"The high school kid was my buddy's little brother, I couldn't just leave him there. Looked like he needed help. Plus, the party was kinda out in the boonies, I would have had to drive, and I knew I shouldn't…so…"
Mark sighed and rubbed his eyes in exasperation.
"OK," he said at length. "Pack your shit. You're coming back."
Mark could hear the wind coming out of the young marine's sails. There was still a week of leave left. Nobody wanted to be pulled back to base now, especially when everyone else was gone. Jett would have sat at the barracks alone. Missing out.
"Aye, sergeant," Jett replied glumly.
"Keep your phone on, I'm gonna call the captain, make it official."
"I will."
They hung up.
Mark sighed again and searched through his contacts. Normal protocol would have him notify his platoon commander, a lieutenant, but he was out of the country. He dialed the company commander, Captain Wolf. The phone rang twice.
"Rein. What's up?"
"Good morning sir. I'm afraid I've got a marine who was arrested, although they didn't charge him and they let him go last night. He's at his parents' house now."
"Who?"
"PFC Jett."
"Not one of the usual troublemakers. What was he charged with?"
"Underage drinking."
"That's not uncommon."
"No it's not, sir."
The captain sighed into the phone. "Well, what do you think we should do?"
"Let me handle it, sir. Don't revoke his leave."
"If he were physically with you, I'd be more inclined to do that, sergeant."
"I understand, sir.And I agree. But he showed some good judgment in the moment when he was caught. He didn't run from the cops, he didn't get behind the wheel, and there was someone that needed his help, and he didn't leave him behind. He made some bad judgments, but he made some good ones too, when it went down. I'm inclined to reward that instinct. And I'll deal with the bad judgment when leave is over."
"I suppose that's a fair point, Rein." Captain Wolf paused before continuing. "If he messes up again, I'm charging you both."
"Understood, sir."
"Anything else? Are you enjoying your leave?"
Still on the phone, Mark heard a noise behind him. He stood up quickly from his camp chair and turned around, only to find Molly smiling as she walked onto his campsite. She was wearing…good God…
"Rein? You still there?"
"Sorry sir," Mark shook his head to regain focus. "Yes sir, I am…I am enjoying my leave. Some…beautiful scenery up here…"
Captain Wolf chuckled. "I'll let you get back to it. Keep Jett in line, and I'll see you when we all get back."
"Aye sir. Thank you for your time."
They hung up.
Mark took in the new sight. Molly's red hair hung just below her pale, smooth shoulders, her femininity thinly concealed by a sporty black bikini.
Her body was impressive. Especially impressive after having two kids. Her thin, work-toned frame betrayed a physically active life. Her B-cup breasts were cute and soft, half covered by the subtle curves of her bikini top. Her tummy was smooth, soft, and inviting, leading the eye down to her bikini bottom, which took the form of a slight curve on the three sides of an inverted triangle converging in a tuck between her legs.
Molly giggled. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important," she said playfully. "I actually drove into town to buy this while Chris watched the kids. Do you like it?"
And her legs…Good god. One of those rare women whose legs looked better out of yoga pants than in them…
Molly blushed as Mark looked up and down her body. He raised his finger in the air next to his face and swirled it around, gesturing to twirl. Slowly. She smiled deeply as she turned around, looking over her shoulder as he checked out her back side.
The backside was as appealing as the front. Shoulders, back, all exposed with just a small string stretched slightly above the middle. The bikini bottom was a little wider, covering just a little extra weight. Just enough to make the whole picture…
"Turn around." Molly turned to face him again. "Very nice. I like it." Molly grinned happily.
She hadn't heard a compliment like this in…
And she definitely hadn't heard a compliment like this from someone like…
Mark took a step forward so that their bodies were close together, slipping his hands under the waist of her bikini and pulling it forward so that he could look down the front. Molly blushed more deeply as he ran his fingers over her smooth skin under her bikini bottom, briefly slipping one finger between her legs.
Moist.
He snapped the bikini bottom back into place, and ran his hands up her stomach and over her breasts. He pulled the cups down slightly to reveal her nipples.
Molly bit her bottom lip slightly, then hastily looked around to see if anyone was looking. Mark picked up on the signal and let go of the garment.
"It's good, Molly. It's real good. You ready for tonight?"
"Yeah…" Molly whispered under her breath, looking down shyly. Afraid to admit just how ready.
"Good. Just put a shirt and shorts on over this when you get back."
Molly looked confused.
"You're my girl this week. This outfit is for me," Mark clarified. "Chris should know you're wearing it, but he can only enjoy it if I'm around. Make sense?"
Molly looked surprised, then smiled in recognition. She nodded brightly.
"OK, good. I'll be by for dinner. Same time, right?" Molly nodded again, turning to walk away, subtly emphasizing her steps to draw attention to her swinging hips. She looked over her shoulder to see Mark's eyes still on her and gave a playful finger wave before disappearing down the trail.
"Good God…" Mark muttered to himself. He sat back down in his camp chair and sat still for a moment, waiting for his erection to go down.
He composed himself, he called Jett again.
Half a ring.
"Good morning, sergeant, I'm almost done packing, my dad said…"
"Shut up, Jett. You're not coming back, you're going to stay on leave."
"Really?" Jett's voice betrayed obvious excitement.
"Yeah. I just got off the phone with the CO. I told him he should revoke your leave. He stood up for you. You're staying out on leave because he told me to back down. He pulled rank so I couldn't haul your ass back. You get it?"
"Yes, sergeant…"
"Now listen closely. No more parties. It's family time now. You drink another drop of alcohol and I'll break my foot off in your ass. Count on it. Understand?"
"Yes sergeant."
"You will call your squad leader every night to verify you're sober. He will report that fact to me. Do. Not. Try. Me. I will turn you into my new living room rug. Understood?"
"Yes, sergeant, I understand."
"Good. Let me talk to your mom.
Shocked silence. "Umm, she's not here…my dad is…" Jett stammered.
"Fine, whatever. Whichever parent is closest to you now. Hand them the fucking phone."
"Umm…okay." The phone went silent for a moment before the voice a nervous middle aged man came on.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Jett, my name is Jack Rein, I'm your son's platoon sergeant."
"I thought so…he's mentioned…we've heard about you before."
"Hopefully all bad," Mark chuckled.
Mr. Jett chuckled back nervously.
"I'm sorry to take your time, sir, and I appreciate you talking to me. The command has to address your son's arrest. I just want you to know that he's in no real trouble, but we need to keep him away from parties and friends that might cause this to happen again. He's a good marine and a highly capable machine gunner, and we're deploying in a few weeks. I need him there with us."
"Okay…" Mr. Jett replied uncertainly.
"I've already told him what we need, but I'm just bringing you into the loop. I can't control this when he's on leave, but I'd really like it if he spent the rest of his leave with family. Keep it low key. Just to make sure he doesn't get into trouble."
"Okay. I think his mother will be happy to hear that."
Mark laughed. "Yeah, I guess she would, wouldn't she? Anyway, thank you for your time, sir, and tell that little turd I love him like a brother. And don't tell him this part, but just so you and his mom know: I've got his back."
The line was silent for a moment, and Mr. Jett replied, trying to hide his emotion. "That's good to hear from his leaders. That's really good to hear. Thank you."
"Thank you, sir. And please, have a good day."
* * *
Jordan darted past Mark and into his condo. Mark smiled slightly and shut the door behind her.
She turned around, red-faced.
"I hate the walk up to your place. So many people between my car and your door…"
Mark chuckled. "What are you afraid of?"
Jordan looked down. "I don't know," she mumbled slightly.
"Are you ashamed of me?" Mark asked.
Jordan looked up and shook her head vigorously. "No, that's not…"
Mark smiled slightly and stepped forward toward Jordan, extending his arms around her. She leaned into his chest and slid her arms around his neck. She liked the feel of his larger body against hers.
"It's okay, I get it." he said gently. Jordan could actually feel his deep voice vibrate in his chest where her cheek lay.
Mark held her for a minute, before engaging in polite chitchat.
"How was your week?"
"Fine. Busy, but fine. David and I went on a hike this morning, that was fun."
"Uh huh. See anything?" Mark slowly let go of Jordan, and took a step back.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Just nature. Just relaxing." He took her hand, and began to walk away, leading her through his front room. Through a small hallway. Back, toward the kitchen.
Jordan continued to chat nervously as she followed through the neatly kept living room, down a short hallway, and finally into a tidy kitchen with a small breakfast island.
"I fell asleep watching Star Trek reruns," she said nervously, trying to maintain the chitchat. "David loves Star Trek, and I think it's fun too. Have you ever seen it? It's kind of…um…maybe you wouldn't like it…"
Mark had casually led her up to the edge of the island, moved a stool aside, and directed Jordan to stand in its place. He let go of her hand, and walked to the refrigerator. "Would you like a bottle of water?"
"Umm, yeah, thanks…"
Jordan felt silly standing there. This was new. In the past, Mark had her sit in the living room and they would chat for a few minutes before he made his move. Then, after some passionate kissing, he would point upstairs. She would go, he would follow. She was looking forward to that part.
But again, this was new. What was in the kitchen?
Mark retrieved two cold bottles of water and returned to the island, standing across from Jordan.
"I have seen it." He said, responding to her Star Trek question. "I'm actually a fan, although it's not something I say too loud at work." He smiled, and Jordan smiled back. A slight scar was just visible on the ridge of his chin. On the right side, where the skin curved under the bone. She hadn't noticed it before. Maybe the light in the kitchen made it visible.
"Well," she continued, "I fell asleep on the couch, so I was a little groggy when I drove over. I'm all good now though." She chuffed out an awkward laugh.
Nerves. Making the uncertain air between them awkward.
Both unscrewed the caps on their water bottles, and Mark raised his in a toast. Jordan touched her bottle to his, raising an eyebrow at him as she did so.
Mark took a drink, then asked: "Who's your favorite character on Next Gen?"
"Next Gen? Next Generation? You know the lingo!" Jordan laughed.
Mark smiled and nodded.
Jordan began to relax, pausing to think about it. "Well, I guess it would have to be Data. The idea of an android gaining consciousness and trying to understand humans, while not feeling emotions…he's got an interesting…umm…interesting…um.."
As she spoke, Mark had come around the island and stood behind her, brushing her hair back over her shoulder, first on one side, then the other. Then he ran his hand up and down her back, causing her skin to buzz with excitement. She began talking through a shy smile, and fumbling with her words.
"An interesting what?"
"An interesting journey, I guess. A journey of…of…um…of self discovery." Mark's touch became a bit heavier, as if he were signaling something to her. Like he wanted her to do something, but she couldn't know what.
"I suppose he does. Do you think Data eventually discovers himself?" Mark now settled his hand in the small of her back and nudged her forward until she took small awkward steps, her waist gently soon touching the edge of the counter top.
"Hard to say," she replied. "Do you? Does anybody? I think Data thinks he's different…um…what's going on?"
Mark's hand had risen up to between her shoulder blades and he had gently but firmly pushed forward. He didn't speak.
The push became firmer.
Jordan leaned, then braced her body with her hands, and eventually succumbed to the pressure and laid her torso across the counter. Mark gently ran his outstretched palm back and forth over her back again as they conversed.
Their conversation was now marked by incongruity. He stood straight up with one hand holding a water bottle,, she flopped awkwardly on the counter top, toes barely touching the ground. She, too, still held a water bottle, unsure of how to let it go or where to put it.
What was happening?.
"Don't worry about it," Mark responded casually. "I could see you being intrigued by Data. Lot of interesting psychology in a compelling android character. What makes a mind, that sort of thing. I can see it." His left hand danced lightly around her back, and she began to relax again. This was…a kind of massage? She could get into that…
"I'm more of a Worf fan myself," Mark continued. "Warrior culture, an ethos of honor, compelling family story. Gels with my own choice of profession, lifestyle. I don't like, speak Klingon, though. I'm not that much of a nerd." Mark chuckled at his own joke. Jordan echoed with her own contented hum. This back rub felt good, even if her legs hanging off the counter was a little awkward.
Mark continued. "But your point is interesting. How do you think Data thinks he's different?"
"Mmmm…That's a tricky question," she said lazily. "He thinks…um…"
Mark casually replaced the cap on his water bottle and set it down on the corner of the counter. He reached around and confidently unbuttoned Jordan's pants, pulling the zipper quickly down to its base. He then gently but firmly grabbed the waistband of her pants on either side of her hips.
"Don't mind me…" Mark intoned, with surprising indifference. "How does your favorite character think? I'd love to know your thoughts."
Jordan's face flustered. "He's..um…very self aware, and he knows he's different, but he has trouble imagining the ways that he's the same. There's more depth…uh…ummm…"
Mark pulled her pants down to her ankles.
"He knows so much about…" Jordan's flustrated responses seemed to annoy Mark as his motions became less gentle. He slipped his right hand around her waist and down the front of her small, lacy pink panties. Sliding his fingers through the soft, downy thatch of her pubic hair, he slipped two large fingers between her legs.
"More depth, you say? Come on, Jordan. Focus." Mark's tone was impatient. "We're having a conversation here. I'm interested in your thoughts."
Jordan was in a fog. She her arousal had been building for much of the evening, and his touch threw her off her usual conversational poise. She moaned as he began moving his fingers back and forth, her moist arousal beginning to coat his fingers.
"He, umm…What are we talking about?"
"Star Trek. Data. Depth." Mark said curtly.
"Umm…I think he's more human than anyone is ready to…ohh…" Jordan abandoned the thought as Mark's masculine middle finger slipped between her labia and penetrated her. Her eyes glazed over as her whole body began to warm to his attention.
"Nothing more to add?" Mark asked innocently.
Jordan moaned in response.
"Okay. Kind of a weird place to end a thought like that, but okay." Mark paused, withdrew his hands, and pulled her panties down to her ankles, just above the crinkled pile of her pants still bunched on top of her shoes.
Jordan's breathing was nudged into an elevated rhythm as Mark exposed her. He stood up, reached his long arm over her back and pressed her head gently down. Jordan surprised herself with her willing acquiescence, turning her head toward the wall and resting her cheek on the countertop.
Cold.
She was now resting entirely on the smooth tile of Mark's kitchen island, cheek on counter, arms spread, right hand awkwardly clutching a water bottle, toes barely touching the ground.
Mark returned his attention to her legs and the space between, crouching at her side and caressing the outer and upper regions with his right hand, and inserting the middle finger of his left hand directly into her warmth. He continued this two pronged approach for a few minutes, responding to the twitches and tensions of Jordan's body until it became clear that her arousal was building toward something concrete.
"Oh my gosh, Mark. What…umm…what are you…"
"Shhhh," Mark hushed her. He increased the pace of his left hand and kept the same, gentle, soothing motions with his right. A wet rhythmic sucking noise slowly rose in the kitchen, followed by gentle, moist slaps. A soft, sustained feminine moan soon followed. Mark sensed the clear signs of an orgasm rising as Jordan's legs began to twitch and her pussy tightened. He increased intensity until her legs began to curl upward, rushing toward the threshold, and then deftly extracted his finger from her body, pulled up her panties, pulled her pants up over them, and stood up to walk out of the room.
* * *.
David paced back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. She had texted about an hour before. It was too early to worry.
Worry.
Not the right word.
Worry implied some degree of uncertainty. And David knew exactly what was going on. Well, not exactly.
He knew where she was.
Although, not really. She didn't give him the address or anything. Just that it was near the Quantico base.
He knew who she was with. Although, not totally. He knew who her lover was, knew his name, knew some things about him. A marine captain she met at school. Tall, handsome, strong. Other physical attributes that were relevant to both their arousal.
David shuddered.
So he knew who she was with. But he had never met the man. He remained a foggy presence in his mind. An idea that was real. Just real somewhere else. Somewhere he didn't have access to.
And it was that thought that upped the tension in this evening's stream of consciousness. The thought of a reality he couldn't reach, couldn't see, couldn't contribute to. And yet this misty reality drove his desire in a way he couldn't comprehend…
He shook it off. What else did he know?
He knew what she was doing. Although, not entirely. He knew that her clothes were likely no longer on her body. The cute pink lacy bra probably rested in a rumpled pile on the floor of this man's bedroom. The cute pink panties that, at some point in the last hour, had dropped around her delicate bare feet before she stepped out of them toward her lover.
Lacy pink panties that matched the ones he was wearing.
David shuddered again, pacing back and forth. His breathing picked up.
He had asked her to cuck him. The look on her face as he asked…
He winced, unsure what to name the feeling that caused the convulsion.
He had asked her to cuck him. She had agreed. The gentle acquiescence of her eyes burned deeply into his mind's eye.
He knew it. There was no doubt. Her panties had dropped around her delicate ankles, resting on her cute bare feet before she stepped out of them.
He was sweating. He paced again.
Her panties had dropped around…
David yielded to the intrusive thought and dropped his pants to his ankles, flipping his shirt over his neck. He tried to step out of his pants, forgetting that his shoes were still on. He awkwardly kneeled, fumbling with the shoes before pulling them off violently without untying them and tossing them aside. He then rolled onto his back like a turtle and yanked his pants off over his feet before standing up and composing himself.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before opening them and pacing again, this time with a much more calm, measured step.
David Stark paced around the interior of the little apartment he shared with his wife, wearing only white gym socks and the lacy pink panties gently strained into a tent by his small erection. He counted off his breaths, one per step, as he slowed the pace of his body.
But his mind and heart continued to race.
He knew where she was.
He knew who she was with.
He knew what she was doing.
He closed his eyes and let the thought off of its leash.
He knew that her cute pink lacy bra lay in a rumpled pile on the floor of this man's bedroom. He drank in the thought of those cute pink panties that, at some point, had dropped around her delicate bare feet before she stepped out of them toward her lover.
David looked at his watch. 8:15. He walked back toward the bedroom he shared with his wife, coming to a stop perpendicular to Jordan's full length mirror.
Only through the corner of his eye could he see himself in this grossly inappropriate situation.
It was repulsive to see, on one level. He looked forward, minimizing his view of himself.
That repulsion was no match for the intrusive thought.
And even with his gaze turned forward, he saw lacy pink panties, standing out against the tamer colors of the room, loudly signaling to him like a nautical flag in a storm.
David looked at his watch again. 8:16.
By now, her cute, lacy pink panties had certainly dropped around her delicate ankles, resting on her feet before she stepped out of them.
Stepped out of them toward her lover.
Before she stepped out of them…
David's trembling hands grasped the waistband of his own lacy pink panties, pulling them over his taught penis and halfway down his thigh.
He let go of the material, watching it fall down his own hairy legs and rest in a delicate pile on top of his own stockinged feet.
Jordan's legs were surely smoother. And her feet would be bare. And so much more feminine…
David stepped out of the panties and desperately grabbed himself, rubbing furiously with his thumb and forefinger. He hunched over as a bright intensity of feeling washed over his body.
Oh God.
David fought to keep his balance.
Oh my god. Jordan is cucking me. Right now. I know it. I asked her to cuck me. I asked her to c…
* * *
It took Jordan a few moments to process what was happening. She didn't quite grasp what was happening in between her rising sexual climax and the feeling of her pants being pulled over her hips to rest on her waist.
It was as if a blanket were thrown onto an open flame. The flame, smothered, the heat remaining.
It was disorienting, to say the least.
Also not just a little bit mean.
Like being punched by a stranger while luxuriating in a warm, thick fog.
Jordan, beyond confused, lifted her head off the counter top, her eyes darting around. Mark was walking out of the room, leaving her torso sprawled awkwardly on the island. She rose up to her elbows and looked over her shoulder.
"Umm…Mark?"
No response. She stood up straight, turned nervously around, and tiptoed into the hall.
No Mark.
She tiptoed down the hall and leaned forward to peek into the living room. Mark was there, sitting in a leather chair, reading a book.
She ducked back into the hall, confused.
A little scared.
Had she done something wrong?
Mark had left her pants button undone and her zipper down. She zipped up her pants and buttoned them, and straightened her shirt, which had gotten slightly rumpled when she was laying on the tile counter top. Running her hands through her hair, she hoped her efforts bought her a little bit of dignity as stepped gingerly into the front room.
They didn't. Mark didn't look up.
She knocked gently on the wall to get his attention, and then cringed, immediately regretting it.
"I can hear you," Mark said gently.
"Ummm, okay…uh…everything okay?"
"Fine. Just reading."
Jordan's face reddened. "Did I, um, do something wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you…you left."
"I did."
Jordan's face warmed further.
"I'm just, uh, I'm just wondering why? Did I do something to offend you? If I did, I'm sorry, I don't really know…"
"You agreed to be here at 7:00. You arrived at 7:50."
Jordan's face burned. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize…um, I'm…I'm sorry."
"I accept your apology."
Jordan looked down, crossing her arms by grabbing her opposite biceps. The standard girl pose signifying the worst kind of feeling: the terrible nexus between humiliated, scared, and insecure.
"Do you want me to go?" she asked, the vulnerability of that feeling lacing the question.
"I do, yes. Your purse is on the end table there." Mark gestured toward the table with the spine of his book.
Jordan stole a glance at Mark's face. It was calm and serious. She looked away and hurriedly crossed the room, grabbing her purse and reaching for the doorknob.
"Jordan."
She turned around, her face bright red.
"I'd like to see you again."
"Okay…" Jordan responded, dumbfounded.
"Before I do, I want you to ask yourself if you actually want me to own your pussy. You have said you wanted that a few times in our previous time together. You should take some time to think about what that will mean. And if you really want it."
"I, um…I just thought that was like..l mean I just said what you were saying…" Jordan mumbled.
"I did say that, but I don't say things I don't mean." Mark's voice narrowed in intensity. "Do you say things you don't mean, Jordan?"
"No, I guess not. I mean…I don't mean to. I guess I just…"
"You need to decide if you mean it. And if you do, you need to act accordingly."
He returned to reading. Jordan stared at him, floored. The clock on the end table next his chair read 8:15.
Jordan's face burned fresh as she hastened out the door of the townhouse and walked briskly through the complex back to her car. Her head spun.
She made it back to her car and fumbled for her keys, wobbling the car key into the ignition.
She paused before turning the key.
She sat for a moment, thinking. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.
She opened up her reddit app, opened up a thread, and began typing quickly with both thumbs.
* * *
David's chest heaved as the shimmering intensity retreated from the tip of his extremities into his body.
His body was hunched over, his torso at a ninety degree angle to his legs, both palms twitching as they clutched his knees.
Gradually, his vision returned to focus as he became aware of the carpet. A small pair of lacy pink panties lay in a petite rumple under his eyes. Four or five small drops of liquid had dotted the material.
His eyes regaining focus, his heart rate slowing, and his breath returning to normal, David stood upright, seeing himself in the mirror.
My God. What have I done?
The dazzling feeling that had consumed his body half a minute before receded into his deepest parts, leaving behind it…
Scorched earth.
Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't believe…Jordan. I have to call Jordan.
Wait, I can't call, she'll get mad…Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck.
David ran back to the living room, grabbing his pants from the floor and wrestling them back onto his body. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and began to write a text.
"Hey, I need to talk to you. Call me now please…"
He paused, then deleted it. She would think it's an emergency.
It is an emergency.
No it's not. Not that kind of emergency.
Show me a bigger deal than what's happening right now.
It is a big deal.
It's a big deal because you let it happen.
It's a big deal because you had to be a cuck bitch. What the fuck, Stark? What the actual fuck? Are you really blowing up your marriage? For some dumb fuck perverted…
Shit. I have to text her.
Something nicer.
"Can we talk real quick?"
Just hit send before thinking about it, or you'll just be writing drafts all day and end up with a Haiku or some dumb shit. God, Stark. For fucking real. What the fuck?
David stood up and picked up his shirt from the kitchen table, where it had apparently landed when he threw it, and put it back on. He then sat on the couch, tucked his face into his elbow, and bit his shirt sleeve while the emotion rose up to his head. Almost like a vomiting, David couldn't hold back and choked out a few hysterical sobs before regaining composure.
He shouldn't have texted her. What if she calls? What will he say?
She won't want to leave. Telling her to leave would be…
She won't want to leave, but she'll feel guilty, and then you'll make her feel super guilty when she goes to church again. This is only going to hurt you both…
Shit.
He hoped she didn't call.
He stared at her phone, waiting for the call.
* * *
New post in r/sex
u/curly_sunshine_1999
I just got fingered and shown the door. What just happened?
"Umm….Hey reddit strangers,
So I(26F) need help. I've been hooking up with this guy(35M) for several weeks now, and everything's been great so far. He's hot, the sex is amazing, no issues before, it's totally NSA on both sides, blah blah.
So we planned on meeting tonight all week, I come to his place, and I'm running late, my bad, but he doesn't seem to mind at first. So we just talk for a minute, but instead of going up to his room like we usually do, he takes me into his kitchen, gives me a water bottle, bends me over the counter and just starts fingering me."
Jordan's phone beeped briefly. A new text from David.
David: Can we talk real quick?
Jordan shook her head distractedly. David knew better. She closed the message app and returned to her post.
"It's weird, I wasn't expecting it, and I was getting into it, and then just when it's starting to get really good, he stops and kicks me out for being late. I had no idea how to react.
Has anyone else had something like this happen? He said I was late and I should leave. I apologized, and he said it was okay, but still kicked me out.
I genuinely don't know how to feel. I'm kind of mad, but also kinda still hot about it, but also super embarrassed. I'm just really, really confused. What happened? Has anyone else had this happen? What do I do in this situation? Help!
* * *
The emotional roller coaster began to slow, gradually descending into a dark depression.
I have a test Monday. I need to study, but instead I spent all day doing this. I'm going to fail that test.
Jordan is definitely going to leave me for this guy. He seems so much better. It's just a matter of time. How could I let this happen?
I'm not going to get that job. There's no way. I'm too young, too inexperienced. I'm a gosh darn flower truck driver. Who wants that guy running anything?
That thought stuck. David knew he wasn't going to get the job. He just knew it. He also knew he couldn't keep his real job after being turned down for the promotion. Vinny and his guys already had it out for him. They'd make life hell and find a way to push him out.
David sat, slumped on the couch. Morose and flaccid.
He reached over to the coffee table and grasped his laptop, and lazily opened up his resume. He began to update and polish, having not used it since his internship applications.
Probably better send this out to a few places. I'm gonna be jobless soon.
And probably divorced too.
Oh God…
* * *
Jordan's head swirled with insecurity. She tried to keep a level head, but she couldn't keep up with the feelings that were surging in her. Had she been so rude to her host that she had to be thrown out? That had never happened to her before, she had no idea how to fix it.
Her thoughts moved on to other possibilities. Was this Mark's not-too-subtle way of saying he'd grown tired of her? He was a devastatingly attractive man, and she knew he had his pick of women. He had alluded to others. Maybe he'd gotten what he wanted from her and was ready to move on…
She recoiled at the thought of being rejected so callously. Indignation followed the fear. Who did he think he was? To just grab her, bend her over…do…that…and then throw her out?
No. Something else was going on. She checked her reddit post. A few snarky comments had populated the thread. About punctuality, someone calling her a slut…someone saying she'd been assaulted and should call the cops…this wasn't going anywhere. Maybe some people responded with private messages.
She opened her inbox. A sadly predictable chain of one-word messages from men who were as stupid as they were horny…a couple offering to show her their penis or offering to "finish the job" for her…
…this was a bad idea…
…wait.
One DM was different.
Title: Submissive?
She opened it.
u/please_yssir: Hey girl, just reaching out because I think u might not rlize ur being dommed. Might be shady or dangerous, but might be fun 2. Depends on the guy, and if ur into it, if ur submissive. Hit me back if you wnna chat.
Jordan read the message a few times.
Submissive?
Jordan had enough education in psychology to come into a bare familiarity with the concept of sex and strategic power, and with the psychology behind sadomasochism. She had always imagined this kind of dynamic to exist among more…extreme personalities than hers.
Or it might exist in marriages that had grown so sexually stale that theatrical experimentation was necessary to keep the spark, or grow it.
The insecurities returned. Was Mark tired of her already? Or was this sadomasochism thing just…his thing? Should she play along next time?
She wasn't sure she wanted to.
Jordan shook her head and hit reply on the message.
u/curly_sunshine_1999: Hello, hi, I'm not sure I know what you mean. I'm not going to like, a sex dungeon or anything. Am I missing something?
u/please_yssir: lol u don't need a dungeon. It's just about sexual style, u know? Frm what u said, sounds like your guy is playing with ur head to dom u. A head game to get u in subspace.
u/culy_sunshine_1999: I'm sorry, I'm kind of new to this. What do you mean subspace?
u/please_yssir: lol its like where ur heads at when u get together. Like, u get into subspace, like ur playing a part in a movie and ur the sub character. Hes the dom. So u dont just act submissive, u feel submissive. Its soooo good if ur dom is good.
u/curly_sunshine_1999: So it's like a play? I'm supposed to act out a role when he's like this?
u/please_yssir: Kinda, but more like you turn into the role. If you act, its 4 him. But if u become sub 4 urself its 4 u. It's hard to xplain, but dont knock it till u try it
u/curly_sunshine_1999: I think I understand. Thanks for explaining that, that's helpful!
Jordan did not understand. She ditched the thread, typing into the search bar.
"Submissive"
She found a new thread. r/submissive.
She blinked in surprise.
A waterfall of discussions, rants, testimonials, questions. There was a surprising amount of activity here.
Jordan began selecting a few threads, reading through them. A mix of genders and education levels. Most, however, seemed significantly more articulate than her previous interlocutor. And she needed some clarity if she was going to understand this…
Some of the messages creeped her out. Those were the ones where people sounded either like cult devotees or hostages. She worried about the rampant abuse that could result from some of the situations described.
But others she found striking. Even a little exciting. Testimonials about sexual devotion that despite her reservations and confusion, warmed her.
After several minutes of browsing, she copied her original posted question and reposted it in the r/submissive thread. She changed the title slightly.
"I just got fingered and then told to leave. Did I do something wrong?"
She left the body of the question unchanged, and posted. Responses came quickly.
One:
-Sounds hot. Punctuality play. Don't be late, haha!
Another
-Sounds more like an asshole than a good dom.
A third:
-I think we need more context. It sounds like you're new. Have you two played with d/s stuff before?
Jordan replied to the third.
-Sorry, I'm new, what's d/s?
-dominant/submissive.
-Oh, okay. No, I don't think so. I mean, kind of. We don't wear special outfits or do handcuffs or whips or anything. He did say that he owns me, but I thought that was just kind of dirty talk. I don't know, I've never had a relationship like this before. I'm kind of inexperienced.
-OK, he said he owns you, and that didn't seem weird to you?
-Of course it seemed weird! It was also kind of exciting at the time, so I went with it. You know how dirty talk is.
-Yeah, I think he was sending you signals you didn't actually understand. You said you went with it, did you like that idea? Like now that you're out of the moment, is it still exciting?
-I mean, yes, kind of. I was really just excited to tell my husband about it, because he gets excited about that kind of stuff.
-Wait, you're married? OK, you're adorable. This level of newbie energy never happens. I love it. Okay sweetheart, you might not know if you're a sub, but I am. Ask me anything, and we'll figure it out together.
-Okay. I'm so confused…thank you!
* * *
Mark now had the rest of the afternoon to himself. He picked up his beach chair and carried it out to the sand, setting it out to watch the tide come in. He thought about taking a quick trip around the bay before dinner. Maybe after he read a few more chapters.
He loved having nothing to do every once in a while.
As he reached for his book, he remembered an unanswered message.
Megan.
He smiled to himself and pulled out his phone one more time. He opened the message and read it again.
Megan: Bonjour, Achilles. Hit me up if you're in the mood.
He paused before responding.
Mark: Bonjour, Meg. What mood would that be?
He smirked again, fully expecting her not to respond. He set his phone down on his lap and opened his book.
When the phone vibrated.
That was quick.
Megan: Any mood, really. Just wanted to chat
Mark: Well, I'm here. Everything okay? You and Frenchie enjoying family?
Megan: Ummm…mostly. You know how it is.
Mark: I don't actually. Just me and my mom before she passed.
Megan: Oh right, I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry Mark. That was really insensitive.
Mark: No, it's okay. No worries.
Megan: What are you up to?
Mark: Just reading, actually. Don Quixote.
Megan: God, that's so hot.
Mark: lol
Megan: I mean it as a joke, but it actually kinda is, lol. Not to be too forward, but, you know?
Mark: Yeah, I figured you'd go for bookworms.
Megan: Yeah. How is it?
Mark: Really fun. I'm having a good time with it.
Megan: I read it in college. I liked it too. You ever think of going on a quest to impress a lady?
Mark: Occasionally. That might just be my whole life, though.
Megan: Haha, right… You don't have to go far to impress a lady.
Mark: That's good to know, I guess. So what's up? You just bored?
Megan: Kind of.
Megan: I was just thinking about the night we spent together, wanted to check in.
Mark: OK. I'm certainly okay, as long as you and J are. You guys good?
Megan: OMG I can't keep J off me. We've been at it like rabbits. We're fine, I assure you.
Mark: He know you're texting me?
Megan: He's next to me on the couch, pretending not to be sneaking looks at the text chain.
Mark: Lol. So that's a yes.
Megan: It's a yes.
Mark: Well, how do you feel about it?
There was a pause. Mark worried he touched a nerve. The old fears that this would drive a wedge between his best squad leader and him began to
Megan: I kind of want to do it again, if you want to do it again.
Mark blinked hard.
Mark: I thought it was like an experiment thing. You try something crazy, and we have a little fun, and then stay friends, right?
Megan: Yeah, I think it was. But J loved it, and I'm finally okay admitting…I liked it too.
Mark: Wow. Meg…That's a lot.
Megan: No pressure or anything. But I know there's a week or two after leave before you guys ship out…can we maybe do another night?
Mark: I mean, I'm obviously down. Who would turn that down?
Megan: You mean you want me too? I was so scared you were like, doing us a favor.
Mark: Meg, we talked about this already. I really enjoyed myself. Of course I want you. Are you totally sure J is on board with this?
Megan: He just said yes really loud while playing his video game. I think he's on board.
Mark blinked in surprise again.
Mark: Wow. Okay. Let's do it.
Megan: Wow, OMG, I'm relieved. I was so scared to have this conversation, you have no idea.
Mark: I'm glad you found your courage. It obviously works for me…
Megan: Can I ask you one thing, though? Like a favor?
Mark: Sure.
Megan: It's stupid…
Mark: It's not stupid.
Megan: OK, don't laugh. Could you call me Briseis again?
Mark laughed. It was a strange request.
Mark: Sure, no problem. Can I ask why?
Megan: I'm kind of…it's kind of like role playing. I like being your slave girl, I guess. I like it that you kind of…
Megan: I like it that you kind of own my body, you know? I think it's hot. I liked how it was kind of like that when we were…
Mark: Wow. Okay, I think I get it. You like to be owned?
Megan: Lol, I guess. Yeah, I guess I do.
Mark paused before answering again. Squinting, he took in what she had just confided to him. Then he responded.
Mark: I'm going to change your contact from Megan to Briseis. Once that is done, I want you to talk to me like you would talk to your sexual master.
Megan: 🥵
Mark: Do you understand?
Megan: Yes.
Mark: Very well. I will change your contact now, and then I will send you a text referring to you by your new chosen name. From that point on, I will own you sexually. Understand?
Megan: Yes. 🥵
Mark changed the contact info, leaving her real name in the contact notes, but changing the contact title. No last name. Just Briseis.
Save contact.
Mark: Briseis.
Briseis: Yes, master.
Mark smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.
Mak: Briseis, go into your bathroom, remove your clothes, and take a picture. Then show that picture to the man currently sitting next to you, and take care that he watches you send that picture to me.
Briseis. Yes, master.
Mark smiled as he felt his cock stir. He replaced his phone in his lap and returned to his book.
He took out a pen and marked the following observation from Sancho Panza:
"I’ve always heard the old folks say that if you don’t know how to enjoy good luck when it comes, you shouldn’t complain if it passes you by. It wouldn’t be a good idea, now that it’s come knocking, to shut the door in its face; we should let the favorable wind that’s blowing carry us along.”
Twenty six years old, sergeant of marines on the cusp of his first trip into war. Mark felt the urge to enjoy the luck that seemed to be knocking down his door lately.
His phone buzzed in his lap.
* * *
Jordan's face burned as she walked quickly through the condo courtyard. The sun was all the way down now. Most windows were dark or dimmed, all doors were closed. Most children were in bed, most parents squeezing a little relaxation out of the fatigued hour.
9:15. Jordan had spent the last hour learning new things from her new internet friend.
The things she had learned were daunting.
Intimidating.
Exciting.
Terrifying.
She had weighed whether to take that bundle of emotions back home to her waiting husband. It seemed to her the obvious right thing to do. She had been thrown out of her lover's home. She had a sexual encounter, which excited her. He would find it arousing, even thrilling. He would welcome her home, care for her, provide her emotional support. They could figure out what to do together.
She could also share the things she learned while scrolling through her phone in the car. The things she learned while discussing this strange, scary sexual dynamic with a woman who had experienced it. David would go absolutely wild at the prospects. And she would stay out of danger. It was a win win.
She definitely knew that she needed to process all this new data. It would be foolish to return to a situation she didn't understand, especially when she wasn't thinking clearly. This is exactly the kind of situation she had been raised to avoid. The very temptation she had been brought up to reject. This was wrong, and she knew it.
This was not who she was. Sensible, level headed Jordan Stark-Simms, a Ph.D candidate in psychology studying under one of the world's foremost researchers. She needed to leave this situation and go home to her husband. She needed to turn around, walk back to her car, and drive home. And she needed to do it now.
Jordan knocked gingerly on the door of unit 60.
A few seconds passed, then heavy footsteps grew steadily louder as they approached the other side of the door, never quite reaching the intensity of Jordan's own heartbeat.
The door opened.
Captain Mark Rein visibly surprised to see her. He quickly regained the composure of a stone face.
"Jordan. You're back. Is everything alright?"
Jordan began visibly shaking. Mark softened slightly and opened the door wider, ushering her inside.
In the dim light of his living room Jordan hoped the redness of her face might not be too obvious. She walked toward the coffee table, noting the book still on the table. Against the Day. The same book he was reading when...Jordan made a mental note to look it up later, after
"Jordan, is everything okay? Are you okay?" Mark repeated himself.
Jordan took a few seconds to compose herself, then took a deep breath, unconsciously, fumbling with the small, thin gold cross on her necklace.
Slowly but deliberately, Jordan lowered herself to her knees, bowing her head down to the ground and releasing the jewelry from between her fingers before resting her open palms gently on her thighs.
A slight smile broke through Mark's stony face. Again, he quickly suppressed it.
"Good evening sir," Jordan said in a soft, low voice, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her knees. "I want to offer my apologies for making you wait for your pussy this evening. I want to offer my body to you now. If you want it.