Bound & Free Ch. 09

No-one around her came to check if she was okay. Good, they were thoughtful. No, they were all bastards. She idly noted how the steamy, sweet beverage was the color of Tristan's skin... whoa! Don't think about him, Alice! Especially don't read anything into the thick and satisfying cream she'd specifically requested as a topping. The way it warmed her insides, the way the thick liquid felt flowing her throat. Some dark chocolate sprinkles would be perfect - it would make her drink an aesthetically pleasing combination of black, white and mocha... oh fuck.

As always, an excess of time and thought had yielded its poison, infecting her. She'd tried to squash the insecurity that dwelled in her heart into a corner. It roiled and relentlessly attempted to diminish her confidence, like termites eating away at her supports. Now he'd just given up on her. Had she been cast aside again? Her paramour hadn't chased her for days, he hadn't tried to weave his way back into her poor wounded heart. This story wasn't playing out as it should, not at all. Hollywood had lied to her. Why was she surprised? Everyone lied to her eventually. That's why she needed to be the one to seek truth in this world.

How could she forgive him? At least not until he'd apologized enough to sate the anger inside her. Did he think a mere handful of times meant anything next to what he'd done? Next to what she needed, now she knew everything, and what he'd made her feel? Yet again her curiosity had caused her to dig and dig, to construct the story, and inevitably reality had yielded up its terrible secrets to her, as it always did. Stacy had called Tristan "Master", she was both more and less than a girlfriend, she was his... what was that term? She'd looked it up a couple of days ago, it was... Ah, yes, his sub. Unlike being his partner, that relationship was not necessarily exclusive, or so the internet claimed. Some part of her recklessly wanted to believe it. She clung to it. Why? It wasn't just that the connection she'd felt on their first few dates. It was competitiveness, it was a desire to prove that no, this wasn't just history repeating. It was something about her ex. Something about the girl who'd stolen him, and her similarity to Stacy. She didn't want to be the other woman, but wasn't she even going to get that chance?

Perhaps if Alice forgave Tristan, they could maybe share Stacy. Whenever she imagined it, she felt a sense of deep satisfaction. Perhaps on their dates she could make Stacy sit beneath the table, and between her legs... No, she shouldn't think that, she shouldn't even consider Tristan - there were so many other people she could date. But it was so tempting, the mixture of remembered pleasure at his hands, the fun, even the debauched perversion of the taboo. Like the devil itself whispering in her ear in Tristan's voice, confident, seductive. Surely a little fantasy was okay, even for nice girls - everyone said so. She could loosen up her mental leash there. That wouldn't pervert her, right? It's not like fantasies could change a person. She found herself pressing the heel of her hand into her crotch again. In public. How many times today had it happened now? She forced herself to stop.

This wasn't helping. To distract herself, Alice unlocked her phone and started looking through old pictures. Look, there was the one she'd taken in T... asshole's room. Asshole had great taste in fancy dress. She wondered idly what was in those other boxes on his desk. He must be loaded to have so much stuff, just burning money. See? That wastefulness was one reason a relationship wouldn't work. That and the other, more beautiful woman. Well, more beautiful except for Alice in this particular photo - in this one, in this outfit, Alice felt she could match up to anyone. Alice admired herself on that tiny screen; she could barely believe she had looked that good. She herself had taken this photo and part of her brain still told her it was someone else. That decided it; she was keeping the outfit she stole from him.

"It that you as Ababha?" a cultured voice behind her asked.

Startled, Alice turned, frowning. Light summer dress, hair so blonde it was almost white, lips that made her mouth water... It was Stacy! Alice's frown deepened.

"Sorry, I was gonna greet you properly, but that picture is just remarkable." Stacy said with uncharacteristic earnestness. "You look even more like the Ababha from the Beaphix 5 books than the actress in the series."

Hearing those nonsense nouns in Stacy's sharp cut-glass accent was ridiculous, made her want to burst out laughing. What the hell was she talking about?

Stacy pulled out the chair opposite her. Stacy then sat down beside her, but incredibly slowly, staring at Alice all the while, giving her ample opportunity to object. She didn't. She couldn't. She would have, honest, it's just she was in the middle of a thought and... okay, she was totally intimidated and may have been slightly, just a little, busy checking Stacy out instead of objecting. Who could resist looking? Alice definitely couldn't, despite her anger.

She was powerless to resist indulging in the sight of Stacy's body. Her eyes traced over Stacy's curves, the intensity of her gaze almost leaving visible imprints in Stacy's thin dress. Where was this intensity coming from? The sudden surge of lust inside her unsettled Alice, but she couldn't stop there. In her mind's eye she groped Stacy's long bare legs, slowly sliding up underneath the skirt at mid-thigh, up to the visible panty line. She could clearly imagine feeling her fingers slipping the gusset of the panties to one side and delving into Stacy's hot moistness. Her heartbeat sped up. Mentally she gripped Stacy's waist, her hands exploring the impossibility of that tiny circumference flaring out to those incredible hips. Alice licked her lips. She was drawn into Stacy's bust despite the demure neckline, the inch or so of Stacy's cleavage on display more than enough to entice her. There she stayed, lost in an inexplicable rush of feelings and her own confusion.

Why had she done that? She'd thoroughly molested Stacy with her eyes. Had she ever felt like this? It must have been that kiss, those lips which had broken something inside of her. She knew their gentle flavor, and it kept playing over and over, something in her begging for more. Why couldn't she stop staring down Stacy's dress like some hormonal teenage guy? Alice couldn't figure out why - she'd seen Stacy's breasts back in the library, there was no mystery to uncover, nothing to imagine. Alice even had breasts of her own she could look at, right? The traitorous voice inside that knocked her down spoke, as it always did. Alice had breasts like Stacy? No, not like those. Jealousy veiled her eyes and thoughts and she was able to finally look up to meet Stacy's gaze. By now Stacy was sitting in the seat opposite her, their legs brushing one another as they sat at the tiny table. Alice shivered with a feeling she wouldn't dare name.

Stacy smirked knowingly - she'd caught Alice staring. She leaned back in her chair, displaying herself, not saying anything, which only made Alice more furious.

"Not a sci-fi fan?" Stacy asked.

"What? The 'ababblay from beefy 42' stuff? No, that science fiction stuff's for teenagers, right?" Alice said, surprised.

Stacy's smile vanished as she winced, even closing her eyes for a long moment. Alice felt a little rush of victory, then of frustration. She'd scored a point but didn't know why. There was a story there. Alice couldn't imagine someone who looked like Stacy enjoying that immature wish-fulfilment fantasy. Someone like Stacy would surely be doing stuff, not vicariously living through the imagination of others.

"You're right, grown-up women like us can't like things that juvenile, can we? I suppose we should only talk about boys and makeup." Stacy said, cattily.

Great, now Alice had insulted her unintentionally.

"You... I... what?" Alice sputtered, utterly lost. "I don't care. I don't even want to talk to you in the first place! Go away, I'm not speaking to you"

"What's your favorite flavor of pizza? Mine's Hawaiian." Stacy said, trying to change the subject.

"Can't you just go to another table, I..." Alice started, then her brain caught up with her mouth. "Pineapple? Really? You're one of those freaks?"

"What's wrong with pineapple? It's sweet, and juicy." Stacy sighed.

Alice couldn't help but stare at her plump lips. For some reason hearing Stacy say that made Alice's heart skip a beat. Something about the way Stacy said the word "juicy" was titillating, obscene as Stacy's mouth undulated around it. She could imagine feeling Stacy's lips on her own, or on her fingers, or maybe on her... No, good girls don't imagine stuff like that. Could Alice call herself a good girl though? Hadn't that ship sailed after she'd thoroughly groped Stacy in her imagination a few seconds ago? What had come over her? Hmm - maybe if she asked, Stacy would say "juicy" again - you know, for science. Juicy. Alice's mouth watered.

"I haven't eaten pizza in years." Stacy continued wistfully, oblivious to Alice's heated gaze. "It's not 'on brand'. But at least back then I was more original than 'pepperoni with extra olives'. I'll take my childish sci-fi over your romantic comedies any day. Did I guess right?"

"Lucky guess on both counts." Alice huffed.

"Uh-huh. Well it's a pity you're such a normie. I can't get over it, you really make a perfect Ababha. Can I have that photo?" Stacy asked her.

Alice waited for the punchline, but there wasn't one. She liked the photo herself, but it wasn't really all that, right? Was it? Maybe she didn't remember it right. Alice absently brought up the photo on her phone again. Did she really look that good? Wait, what was Stacy...

"Hey!" Alice exclaimed, as Stacy roughly touched their phones together.

Before Alice could recover Stacy struck again with the speed of a viper, tapping a button which popped up on Alice's screen. It was done before she could react. Alice's phone displayed a message - "Transfer complete". Stacy grinned at Alice's expression of disbelief. How the fuck... Probably another damned feature she didn't know about. They both had the latest Hourglass phone; she'd never understood that thing.

Stacy leaned back, well out of Alice's reach. She examined something on her screen - the photo she'd stolen. Stacy smiled with what looked suspiciously like satisfaction. What the hell was she going to use that picture for? To humiliate her? Outraged, Alice tried to grab Stacy's device but Stacy had already smoothly slipped it back into her bag. Alice was about to shout at her, demand she delete it, but Stacy spoke.

"Thanks. But why didn't you model that ensemble to Tristan? He would have ravished you on the spot. I know I would."

She would what? Alice felt a warm feeling grow in her stomach to match the one in her cheeks. Stacy would... would she really? Was Alice that pretty? Wait, did Stacy even swing that way? Well in retrospect that one was obvious, they'd done a few things together already. She didn't know she was even Stacy's type - she had all those gorgeous sorority friends... Wait. Stacy was just trying to distract her. That realization didn't stop the distraction from working though. She'd just answer this then get that picture deleted.

"Ravished? Who says that? But he didn't. Ravish me, I mean. Guess he prefers blondes." Alice said quietly, then her volume rose. "And you need to delete that picture right now! You stole my photo! Look, everyone, this woman stole my photo!"

Stacy rolled her eyes, perfect even while expressing contempt. Alice tried not to stare at her lips. Remember their taste. Peach - no, mango.

"Oh, Alice, tell me you're not that cliche. Now who's the immature one? Insecure about your body, fishing for compliments. Surely you're over that, this little display is beneath you." Stacy sighed. "As you've probably guessed I think it's important we get on. So I'll bite, but this is your one and only freebie. Ready? I don't know why Jerry didn't use you as one of the models at the shoot you worked on Saturday."

Alice reeled in shock. That... was impossible. In so many ways. None of it made sense, the facts, the sentiment, they didn't mesh with Alice's reality. Alice, a model? What fantasy world was this? The compliment went right over her head as shock ran down her back like ice water. The fact that Stacy knew her boss Jerry's name was the least of it, but she wasn't about to invite Stacy to start dissecting her insecurities here in the cafe, so she fixated on it.

"The shoot we did... how did you know about that?" Alice hissed. "And either you go or I do, right now. I still don't want to talk to you."

"Bitch please, you're exhausting. Just let's have a civilized conversation without being childish." Stacy replied, sounding frustrated. "I know because it was my clothing line you were shooting last week. And uh, that thing back in the library? You would have done the same thing I did, just not as well. I even invited you to join us. To share. If I knew you were this selfish I wouldn't have."

Alice shivered in arousal. Disgust, sorry, it was definitely disgust. Of course she hadn't spent nights wondering what would have happened, if she'd had the courage to choose differently. She hadn't imagined being with Stacy, hadn't fantasized about licking Tristan's... stuff... off of her body. She hadn't imagined Tristan's musky flavor on Stacy's mango lips. She wasn't imagining it right now.

"I would never..." Alice started.

"You wouldn't? What's the matter? Last I checked you weren't his girlfriend. Aren't you attracted to Tristan? Or is it me? Do I not turn you on?" Stacy interrogated her.

Stacy angled her shoulders, brushed back her hair and favored Alice with a mock pout. Alice felt a sudden nervous urge to touch up her own makeup. That or grab Stacy, really mash their lips together... again. In reality she wavered, stuttering uncertainly, not doing either one.

~~~~

The silence was telling. That, the kisses last time, and the way Alice had blatantly ogled her when she'd sat down here was enough to draw a clear conclusion. That little freak was into her too! Well chosen, Master. Pity about her personality though. Maybe Tristan could train it out of her?

Stacy had to admit that so far, she had done a really done a poor job of managing this situation. Coming to see Alice at all was a misstep. She'd been distracted - both with her family situation and then with that unexpected photo. No, no excuses Stacy, you stupid girl. What kind of help was this to Tristan?

Stacy couldn't get it out of her mind. Alice in that photo was the spitting image of her childhood heroine, Ababha, the slave princess. How incredible it was for Alice to look like just like the book described. Back when she'd been a teenager Stacy had never been attracted to women until she'd read those books and then seen that show. It'd awakened her. In fact, thinking of it that had been the very first time she'd ever masturbated. Then what fun she'd had, exploring that spark of curiosity in her all-girls school. Pity she couldn't allow herself to watch that show anymore.

What a waste Alice didn't even know who it was. Truly pearls before swine. Wait, not swine, Alice wasn't... Fuck, see what Tristan had done to her? Stacy couldn't even complete a simple metaphor! She was still too off-balance.

Off-balance? Try out of control - she'd completely stepped over the line. Stacy had acted almost violently, without thinking. She'd just stolen the picture - she'd felt an overwhelming need to reach out and take it. She hadn't even tried to stop herself, she didn't even think to. She still couldn't believe that she'd surrendered to the impulse, she'd smashed through the walls of her self-control like they weren't even there. Why had she done it? Ever since that moment - just minutes ago - she'd been adrift, uncertain. For some reason she'd thought of Tristan, she'd felt his hand moving hers.

It was as if the part of herself she kept locked up had been unchained. It was the lust she felt for the character, it was something about what happened in the library that spurred her to ride roughshod over the social niceties. It was the shadow of Tristan behind Stacy and Alice, watching them. Stacy had wanted it, truly and honestly, so she'd taken it. No schemes, no manipulation, no finesse - senseless. It was tempting to say it was just a photo but using that as a justification was a slippery slope. Something was changing. In any case this situation was all Tristan's fault.

Still, now matter how she'd obtained it, Stacy was looking forward to getting a lot of personal "use" out of this photo. She was a pragmatist and she still had a little crush on Ababha. It would be even better if she could somehow get Alice over her little mental roadblock, then engineer things so she'd dress up as Ababha again, this time with both Tristan and Stacy in the room. In her mind the three of them were already in that bedroom together. It would be little sexual roleplay - perhaps they could recreate that seminal scene which was cut from the series. The one in the books, on Selphor 3. Heh; seminal in both senses if Stacy had her way.

Another part of Stacy berated her for wanting to degrade herself. As quickly as that voice inside spoke she slapped it down - no matter what she became on this... journey of self-discovery, she would never deny the facts. She'd found being covered in Tristan's cum arousing, the fact it was against every standard she'd erected for herself didn't make it less true. Heh; erected - well that pun was just beneath her. Beneath... Stacy realized sexual frustration may be perverting her thoughts slightly.

How quickly Stacy had accepted her fate. But to be fair she'd been accepting other, far less palatable fates for far longer.

Alice was still ogling her. Alice's hot gaze penetrated Stacy's clothing, she could almost feel Alice's soft hands on her porcelain skin. They would have, if Alice had not run off. Maybe then Stacy would have lost herself, would have forgotten to check her phone. Maybe then this crippling anxiety she felt would be pushed off by another day, a night, an hour. There was a world of difference in knowing the axe was about to fall and being blissfully ignorant. It was Alice's fault, it was... No, she couldn't put that on Alice. But just look at her, so wrapped up in her self-righteousness she wouldn't let herself admit her own feelings, she won't let herself have any fun. Stacy felt anger flare up. Some people had real problems. She wanted to shake Alice - if the girl could stare lustfully at Stacy for the entirety of her interminable inner monologue then Alice should just admit she was attracted. She should have just joined them back then. Or now. What was the issue? Stacy couldn't understand the merit of Alice's self-denial, what benefit she derived from it.

Stacy still had one card to play - perhaps the way Alice reacted to this next bit would make her feelings more obvious.

"You know Tristan sent me a little gift." Stacy said with mock surprise. "Shall we open it, Alice?"

Stacy bent down to retrieve Tristan's parcel from her bag. Of course she wasn't above a little petty revenge. She took the opportunity to bend in just the right way for Alice to get an eyeful, should she choose to. Her body posed just so, Gravity pulled her dress away, exposing her bra-clad breasts to their best effect. To Alice and no-one else. Stacy watched as she stared, lost in lustful exploration - good job, girls. Stacy gave her long a moment, displaying herself to the other woman in that contorted pose. Her hands had been around the package for some time.

"Alice?" Stacy asked again, unable to hide the satisfied smirk in her voice.