Turning on my iTunes before I climb into the oversized tub, I try to push the conversation out of my head as I begin my nightly routine. Destrokk by MGMT is the first song that comes on and I quickly find myself lost in the music. Singing at the top of my lungs, “As you’re falling down, your blood is all around you now,” the dark lyrics lead me to my happy place and I begin thinking about my plans for the night. I’m in the frame of mind to kick my usual activities up a bit. I’ve been getting a little bored to be quite honest, and with this shitty ass day, I really need something to improve my mood.
After soaking for a while and shaving myself smooth, I step out of the bathtub and into my hot pink robe. Putting lotion on my body is damn near orgasmic; I may be slightly obsessed. It’s Tuesday, so its pink day, and I learned last night not to fuck with the days of the week/ color mojo. Tuesday/ pink day is actually one of my favorite days because there are so many shades of pink that I can work with. Light baby pink can come off as sweet and demure, Barbie pink is playful and flirty, and a dark fuchsia tends to be more sensual and luxurious. I haven’t quite decided yet which route I’m taking tonight.
From the bathroom to the kitchen, I pour a glass of wine and return to my bedroom to get ready. Along with it being pink night, Tuesday’s (as well as Thursday’s) are my college dive bar nights. In addition to the well-known NYU and Colombia campuses, there are a ton of other small community schools and specialty colleges in the city, which provide a breeding ground for a bunch of stupid, drunk college boys. It’s actually not even fair to most of them since they prove to be the easiest conquests of the week time and time again, but I enjoy giving them a reality check and it does wonders for my ego. Standing in my closet, deciding what to wear, I opt for the innocent school girl look tonight. Not that many guys can resist my charm, or my angelic face and devilish body for that matter, but wearing a short pleated skirt with knee socks is like cashing in a lottery ticket.
The wine goes down easily as I finish my first glass while putting on my makeup. I hurry to the kitchen for a quick refill because I can’t get ready without having something to drink. Again, it messes with the cosmso. Back in the bathroom, I blow dry and straighten my hair, then French Braid a section of my blonde locks into a headband across the front of my head. Pleased with the way it looks after just the first try, I hang my robe up and skip into my bedroom naked.
Deciding on my bubblegum pink satin bra and crotchless panty set that has silver sparkles sprinkled across the fabric, I slip them on. Pink and black argyle socks that come to right over the knee are next. This is one of the few exceptions when I don’t wear a garter belt, but the naughtiness of the panties makes up for it. I admire myself in front of the full length mirror since it really is a shame I have to wear clothes over this look. Not to worry, I won’t have them on long. I swallow the last drops of wine in my glass before sliding the black skirt up over my hips and the pink cashmere sweater over my head, careful not to mess up my hair. I finish the look with my black, low-top Chucks and head out the door.
Andres sits in his usual spot behind the security desk, watching the surveillance cameras and playing on his iPad. “Have a good night, Miss Kat. Be safe; there’s a bunch of crazies out there,” he says jokingly.
I smile politely and even laugh softly at his joke; however, I’m laughing because I know that I am one of the crazies. I’m the girl mom’s warn their babies about, the wolf in sheep’s clothing, the one with a black heart. Of course I don’t tell him this. To be quite honest, I have no clue what he, or any of the other building staff, thinks about me. I’m always courteous and respectful to them, but never go out of my way to be overly friendly or chatty. Privacy is a huge deal to me, and one of the main reasons I live here, other than the fact it’s a super posh, luxury apartment located directly next to Central Park, is that the security and anonymity that they offer. I know at least two of the city’s superstar athletes call the building home, and I’ve heard rumors that several actors and actresses have places here too. It’s not that paparazzi are hounding me, or even know who I am for that matter, but that’s the way I want it to stay.
Leo waits for me with the car door open. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth when he sees me doesn’t go unnoticed, but I treat him with the cool, aloof demeanor that I always do. After he slides into the driver’s seat, I greet him. “Evening, Leo. I hope your day was better than mine.”
“Evening, Miss Kat,” he replies with a concerned tone in his voice. “What happened today that was so bad? And where are we headed tonight?”
“I woke up to begin with, that’s usually enough to piss me off,” I say half-jokingly. “But it was when the bitch called this afternoon asking me to come over and visit, that the day really took a nose dive. Oh, and The Edge on East 3rd in between 1st and 2nd. I feel like corrupting some young boys tonight.” I look out the window not wanting to see his reaction to my statement. I’m not sure how Leo feels about my sperm donor, his child-bride, or their newest addition; I fucking hate all of them — well, except the baby — but just give them time to warp his mind and I’m sure I’ll add him to the list at some point.
The city flies by through the car window — the thousands of people out on the streets, the bright lights illuminating the night’s sky, and the sounds of car horns and shouting voices. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere else, even if it would mean escaping my past. New York City and all of its chaos and madness is what keeps me sane. I can easily hide in the millions of people, all of them caught up in their own lives; I just pass by as another pretty face on the street, except for the unfortunate few that take a chance on me at night. Laughing softly, I feel no remorse. They all deserve it, and night after night, person after person, I grow more confident in my abilities to seduce. Soon I will begin to tear apart his empire, piece by fucking piece, and I will have my revenge.
The Range Rover pulls up outside the bar, and Leo hops out before I can stop him. Several young people are outside smoking under the awning, and the fact that I have a driver that opens my door makes them take notice. I simply smile as I walk past them and through the glass double doors. The place is a dive; there’s no other way to describe it. It’s rather dark and dingy, with numerous pool tables and dart boards scattered about. The bar itself is just a wooden slab, with a good selection of beers on tap. Overall, it looks like the stereotypical college bar hang-out, which is just what I was hoping for.
As I walk to the bar to grab a beer, I feel the entire population of the place turn to stare at me, similar to the effect I have most times I enter a room. Older crowds usually do it in a more discreet way whereas college aged kids are much more open at their gawking. In addition to feeling their eyes burning a hole in me, I hear the whispers and murmurs. The girls call me a whore, a rich bitch, and a slut out of jealousy and immaturity; the guys talk about “tapping that” or bending me over a pool table, only hoping they could be so lucky. Their words don’t upset or anger me because I stopped having fucks to give about nine years ago; instead, they fuel my fire, and to be quite honest, it turns me on a bit.
The bartender greets me and I order a draft pear cider. After he hands me the chilled pilsner glass, I turn around to assess the prospects tonight. A good sized crowd surrounds one of the pool tables, watching two guys who are either really good, extremely competitive, or both. I can’t get a good look at them because of the pack around them. People continue to gaze over at me, but when I lock eyes, they look away. Their lack of confidence boosts mine and I love to feel in control of the situation. I continue to scan the room, noting a few guys that catch my eyes, but no one that really jumps out at me.
Loud cheers from the pool match draw my attention back to that side of the room. Apparently it’s over, because all I can see is money being exchanged all over the place. Moments later, two guys emerge from the mob, talking and laughing as they walk towards the bar. They actually look pretty similar; both have short brown hair, are well-built, and are dress
ed in fitted t-shirts and jeans with visible tattoos covering their arms. They both look me up and down as they step up to order their drinks and give me a smirk. They carry themselves as if they are something pretty special, at least they think so. The fire inside of me is lit. The game is on.
An hour later, I send Leo a text that I’m ready to be picked up. The game ended up being child’s play; the boys unable to think with more than their cock. After they invited me over to their table to “teach” me how to shoot pool, I let them think I had no idea what I was doing, so that they could lean me over and press their bodies against mine while I held their “sticks.” It really took everything inside of me not to roll my eyes on numerous occasions, but the death stares that I was getting from all of the females in the bar made it worth playing along. A few minutes later, I exit the bar with not one, but both of the guys. I usher them into the backseat of the SUV and then crawl over one to sit in between them.
Leo gets behind the wheel and asks, “Where to this evening, Miss?”
“To the Hyatt at Union Square, and make it quick,” I snap at him. He simply nods and pulls away from the curb.
The guys on either side of me — which I honestly can’t even remember their names at the moment except that they both start with a J — are breathing heavily and I can see their erections bulging in their pants. Neither of them has said a word nor even attempted to touch me since we’ve walked out of The Edge; just with the appearance that I have money and authority, I’ve taken control of the situation. They sit silently, waiting for my instructions.
As we make our way to the hotel, I put one of my hands in each of their laps, unzipping their jeans and reaching inside to free their cocks. Both of them let out a series of moans and hisses as I grab their shafts and begin to slowly move my hands up and down. They refuse to look at each other’s cock even though they are less than eighteen inches from one another, which gives me a great idea for the night. The guy on the right, who I decide to call J1, finally gets the nerve up to place his hand high up on my thigh just before we reach our destination.
I release them as we pull up in the valet drive. “Make yourselves presentable until we get in the room,” I instruct. They quickly tuck themselves back in their pants and zip up. I grab my fun bag from under the seat as we exit the car. I lead them through the lobby without stopping at the front desk, straight into the elevator and to the suite that I keep a key to. What can I say? Money is powerful.
Ushering the guys into the room, I waste no time to get to business. “Strip and get on the bed,” I order them as I place the bag and my purse on the table and slip off my shoes.
One of the J’s decides he’s going to test my authority. “Why do you get to make all the rules?”
Without turning around, I pull my sweater over my head and unzip my skirt, allowing it to pool at my feet. I bend over to slightly to step out of my skirt and give them a nice view of my exposed, bald pussy before standing back upright. My back still turned to them, I say calmly, “If you want a piece of this sweet ass, you will strip, get on the bed, and not question me again. If you aren’t interested, you can leave now; my driver is waiting outside the door and can take you back to the bar. The choice is yours.” I hear the swishing of fabric followed by the slight creaking of the mattress. Game over… I win again.
I see the fear in their eyes when I finally turn around with blindfolds and cuffs in my hands. I smile innocently as I stroll over to them. Setting the toys down on the white comforter, I climb up on the bed and begin a quick dance for them. It’s amazing what a guy will let me do to him as I’m rubbing my more-than-a-handful boobs in his face and my swollen cunt on his throbbing cock. Five minutes later, they are both properly restrained to the headboard, and their eyes are covered with heavy black sashes. I hop off the bed to let Leo into the room. Tonight I need him for more than just watching, I need a photographer. Even I have to admit as I walk back into the room that the two guys are pretty nice specimens of the male species, physically speaking. Too bad all I care about is fucking with their world.
I grab each of their phones out of the pockets of their jeans and toss them to Leo with a wink. I rejoin them on the bed and pick up where I left off in the car. I play with their cocks for a bit, getting them nice and excited. After a little bit of dirty talk, I tell them that there’s a contest on who can eat my pussy the best. I take turns sitting on each of their faces, and surprisingly, they are both pretty good. They struck me as guys that didn’t care much about getting their girl off, ones that thought most things revolved around them. To reward them both, I lick up and down their shafts at a tantalizing slow pace. I think they are both close to exploding and now it’s time for my fun. I scoot off the bed and grab the key to the handcuffs. I undo the one hand that’s closest to the other.
“I want to see you jack off for me,” I tell them. Without additional prodding, they both grab their own erections and begin going to town. “No! Stop! I want you to jack each other off.”
Immediately, they scoff at the idea and begin to tell me no. I dip my fingers inside of my wet, juicy slit then smear my sweet juices across their lips. “If you want to know what this tight little cunt feels like wrapped around your cock, you will jack each other off for me. Now.” Hesitantly, J1 reaches his hand out towards his friend. Beaming with my conquest, I help guide his hand until he’s got a hold of his buddy’s rock-hard shaft. J2 flinches a bit at the initial contact but it takes less than thirty seconds before he begins to relax and enjoy the sensation. I grab his free hand and move it over to J1’s cock, and minutes later, they are both lost in the lustful ministrations.
The entire scene playing out in front of me is turning me on more than I thought it would. Before I get too caught up in it, I gingerly move off the bed and Leo gets straight to work, quietly snapping photos and shooting videos while I get dressed. It doesn’t take long before they are moaning and groaning as they explode on each other’s hands.
I take the phones from Leo, text the photos and videos to everyone listed in their favorite contacts, and we leave them nude and cuffed to the bed. Making my way back downstairs, I nod at the woman behind the front desk as we walk out, giving her the signal that someone needs to go free them in about ten minutes. I’m even nice enough to pay for a taxi back to their cars.
Leo drives me home and neither of us says a word the entire trip. After parking the car, he walks me up to my apartment where his tongue and hands fuck me until I come all over his face. Then he carries me to bed and tucks me in, kissing me on my forehead.
“Goodnight, Leo. Thank you for taking care of me,” I mumble sleepily.
“Yes ma’am, Miss Kat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And he disappears.
Finally, it’s Friday; I don’t think I could take another day of this week. I’ve managed to hide from Principal Matthews since our encounter on Tuesday, but Lucca has been a different story. It’s like he’s everywhere that I am, even when I’m where I’m not supposed to be. After witnessing my breakdown Tues, the aftermath of the principal’s inappropriate advances, he tried to get me to tell him what was wrong. Now, I think he’s made it his purpose in life to either get me to open up about my issues, or to drive me crazy in the process; too bad for him that the first isn’t ever going to happen, and the latter already did — he’s late to that party.
Lauren hasn’t been much better either. She refuses to stop hounding me about my social life, or lack thereof, and now she’s curious about why Lucca is following me around. If I didn’t absolutely adore the kids in my class, I’d walk out of this place in a heartbeat, but I can’t do that. I’m completely and utterly attached to the bright smiling faces that I’m greeted with every morning and afternoon. Most of these kids have parents that work two or more jobs and aren’t home to spend much time with them, or they have parents that are lazy, selfish pieces of shit that shouldn’t have had children in the first place. Being able to give these little ones some much needed time and atten
tion makes me feel incredible. Add in the fact that I’m spreading the love of music to them, and it’s a position I can’t walk away from, which leads me back to my original problem of dealing with the other aspects of the job… one of which just walked through my classroom door.
“Trina, this is the third day this week that you’ve eaten lunch in your classroom.” Lauren’s high-pitched voice pulls me from my salad. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been trying to hide from me.”
Looking up at her pouty face as she crosses the room, I give her a soft smile. I really do like her, despite the fact she can be a bit overbearing and dramatic. She’s the only friend I have really, even if our friendship is kept to weekdays between the hours of eight and three. “It’s not you that I’m hiding from. You know how I feel about the whole teacher community thing — just because they work in a school, doesn’t mean they have to act like they’re still in school.”
Her face eases a bit as she pulls up a chair to my desk and grabs her nasty shake out of her cooler. She ignores my comments about the other teachers because she knows I don’t want to talk about the issue at hand. Regardless of my aversion to the teacher lounge gossip, I’ve never made a habit of eating my lunch in my class. “So when are you going to tell me why the hot new teacher follows you around like a lost puppy?” I love how she gets right to the point. No one can ever accuse her of pussy-footing around a topic.
Sighing, I reply quietly, “He doesn’t follow me around like a lost puppy.”
She screeches in delight at my response. “So you do at least acknowledge that he’s hot?”
“I’m an introvert, not blind.”
“Well, you must be if you haven’t noticed him everywhere that you are.”