Flower on the Hook Pt. 03

*Content warning: contains scene of attempted sexual assault and one instance of heterosexual intercourse*

Having essentially convinced David and her father that she was sleeping over at a friend's house for the night, slipping an actual friend her phone so that a GPS log of her location wouldn't tip them off if checked, Dot arrived at the prostitute's doorstep a minute later than she would have been expected. If the woman was as well scheduled as she'd been the week before, Dot didn't want the possibility of coming into contact with the clientele.

Without a doubt, the women chatting on the stairs knew why she was there, having seen her a few weeks running always at the same time, but she hoped the combination of large sunglasses and a mask would hide her identity beyond being recognized. It might attract more attention than if she'd come dressed normally, as if she had a clear conscience, but it just wouldn't do for father to see a sneakily-taken picture of her walking into that apartment on the internet.

Her chest ached, but the sharp peaks of anxiety had been getting better all week since she'd been daydreaming about this date to exhaustion. How long had it been since she was allowed a sleepover, a wholesome one even? Years? Not since primary school and that was less a sleepover and more the fact that you could cram so many people into a boarding school's dorm room. And that was before Dot knew she liked women, too. Now she would be able to dive into decadence for hours, and her cheeks burned thinking of all she wanted to try, even if it had to be done on a futon smelling of a cum rag.

And did Chris have any plans for dining that evening? Beyond alcohol, Dot hadn't seen a thing in the woman's refrigerator that could sate an appetite and her brief attempt to clean up in that room had upturned weeks worth of pizza boxes and ramen wrappers. How the prostitute kept her figure and her complexion with a diet of that sort was a point of mystery. Whatever the case, Dot came prepared with two bulging paper sacks of groceries, everything necessary for a vegetarian bake except the baking dish she assumed would be in any functioning adult's kitchen, and there would more than likely be enough leftovers for the next week's eating that she would leave behind. If Chris was as beautiful as that on the diet of a bohemian painter, what heights might she soar to on an actually healthy meal?

Of course, Dot ate like that and besides having acceptable skin, felt she was too skinny. Pizza once in a while might do her some good, she thought, except maybe for all the grease. She'd seen some tone appearing in the full-length mirror at the pool, but she wasn't near the gorgeous swimmer's figure she admired quite yet.

She realized she'd been waffling, staring at the door and lost in thought, so transferred the groceries to one arm and knocked.

-o-

Where was that girl?

It was already the time they'd agreed on, and followed up on by text, but Dot the ever-punctual had Chris waiting by a wall in the entryway when the clock ticked over. How would the girl react to her choice of wardrobe for the evening? Chris salivated over seeing that adorably pale face pinking up with virginal shock.

That wouldn't work too many more times, she thought, getting the delicious reaction, the very ease of a date with a virgin. All they wanted was the vanilla stuff, hugging and kissing, but they eventually grew a backbone and ended up boning her in the back, and she knew that would still happen with a girl. Last time it almost had, Chris laid down and let Dot have at it, losing herself in orgasm under the girl's tongue and having to grab her up to reassert dominance, leaving an embarrassing mark.

Then, after the girl's chihuahua-shaking orgasm, she'd been shocked back into the state of virgin purity, slapped back across the line so hard that the poor thing almost had a panic attack until Chris said she could cover up the mark with some foundation. Adorable, that was the only word for it, and Chris might not really have been into girls, but she was all for adorable. The only way to keep her that adorable, however, was to keep smacking her to the other side of the line, drawing her over to perversion more and more to shock her with how far she'd been led astray; unsustainable, but oh, so much fun while it lasted.

Had she ever been that adorable?

Hard to say, there had been a lot of crying those days. Maybe the men lying on top of her thought she was adorable because she was crying, but she'd been too drunk or high or sad to really care how she looked. They didn't stop, after all, when she'd tried literally just lying there while they did what they wanted with her body, seemed to relish the challenge of making her cry out whatever that took and not always cry out in pleasure.

Looking back, how often did she actually cum when she had been with one of her male clients? It had been less and less over the years, hadn't it? Way back when, she knew that she'd at least finish herself off afterward if the guy had just pumped a load inside and fucked off, but even that had just become a hassle, and so had asking them to go slower or faster or not to hit her... Then there were always the weirdos who didn't actually have to cum themselves to consider their 'date' a success, licking her toes, armpits, her asshole, or maybe just slapping her around but that got complicated when they left marks and she'd had to learn how to hide them, and there was that one who just wanted her to kneel there and drink his piss like his dick was a straw. By that point, she'd been glad it was such a simple request and didn't need that much action on her end.

Really, where was that girl? Chickened out?

Chris was actually startled by the knock a few minutes late

-o-

The door came open and Dot's heart skipped a beat. Her lover for the evening was wearing a micro bikini so tiny and thin that her nipples were peeking out the sides to say hello and her trimmed pubic hair was completely gone, waxed away to display smooth, glowing skin tantalizingly close to the valley of pleasure. Chris stepped out, exposing her vast swaths of flesh to the chilly air, goosebumps rubbing against Dot's neck as the woman draped her arm across her shoulders and swept her inside.

Once inside, the bolt slid shut behind her and the chain along with it. No way out now, they said, no matter the perverted diversions Chris had in store for her, she wouldn't be leaving until the morning when she'd been thoroughly soaked through in this place's scent, tingling head to toe from the sin she'd set herself to endure.

Chris slapped Dot's butt and passed her going further inside and all Dot could think was that she wished she hadn't been wearing a skirt at the time to feel it properly.

"Got some supplies there?" Chris called back to the entryway.

"Um, yes!" Dot hurried inward, starting to sweat despite the chill, and prepared to trudge through on her way to put things in the kitchen.

But in fact, there was no need. The garbage heap the room had been the weeks before was transformed into something only slightly less than livably clean. Gone were the mounds of garbage and clothing, replaced by stained, likely mold-infested carpet. And while the Futon was still where it always was, it had been at least draped with a sheet and held some pillows instead of being just a fifty pound cum receptacle.

"Looks nice, yeah?" Chris patted her bicep to indicate she'd put some elbow grease into the state of things, the motion causing much more distracting jiggling which threatened to dislodge the bikini from its tenuous grip on her nipples. "Stepped on some glass the other day, you know? Hurt like a bitch and I thought to myself, you know Dot's comin' over and she's got nice feet, so I had'ta make sure there's not any more shards hidin' under the heap."

Dot didn't have the heart to tell the woman about the benefits of steam cleaners in the moment, she looked too proud. "Yes, you did a great job... So, did you have dinner planned?"

"Got a frozen pizza, cheesy crust~"

Of course she had. "Actually, I was thinking I would cook us something. You know, like a real date... and stuff... no?"

Chris poked a finger into one of the paper sacks to get a peek at its contents and said, "Looks like you're a rabbit."

"Roasted carrots are delicious." Dot defended herself by proffering the other bag. "I also have squash and tomato."

"And this?" Chris reached in and pulled out a can of whipped cream topping. "Don't see any ice cream. Did you want to eat this off me?"

It had been a heart-stopping decision between that and chocolate sauce. Now that the option was being teased in front of her face, her mind was running as fast as it could from the act she'd been imagining. "I thought... sometime we could go to the store over there and get some ice cream. I don't know what flavor you like..." Dot had never lied so much in her life as this past month.

"I like your flavor~"

With her arms full of groceries, Dot couldn't respond properly as her chin was turned up and Chris darted her tongue between her lips. Her only means of escape was cut off when the woman wrapped a smooth, bare arm around her waist so the only thing left to do was allow Chris to have her way, prising Dot's lips apart, greedily lapping at her tongue, eyes open and peering directly into Dot's soul for weaknesses, drinking up Dot's moans while the girl writhed in her grasp.

It was too surprising to muster a response, to swim back against the riptide and assert herself before the embrace had ended and she was just standing there, waist cooling and tongue lonely as its playmate had left in the moment things were starting to heat up. Better that way, Dot had to say to herself, if she'd allowed herself to fall into debauchery so early in the night, she might not be able to clamber out again.

"Um," Dot said, stiff with shock while Chris smirked just feet away, "Do you have a baking dish?"

Chris snorted, "Ha! Why would I? Guess I got a pan I use for the oven. That good enough?"

They went to the kitchen and dug everything out that Dot would need for the dish. The baking sheet Chris did have, one of literally two pieces of oven-safe cookware in the apartment, at least had a rim so oil wouldn't be spilling out everywhere while the vegetables were baking. Though, by the state of the oven itself, Chris likely wouldn't have noticed another layer of black, oily deposit on its bottom. And there weren't any kitchen knives as such, with the exception of a set of steak knives which would just have to do the job the best they could. The slices weren't as neat as Dot would have liked, but she wasn't about to risk her fingers by trying to force eating utensils to serve the purpose of prep work.

"Like to cook?" Chris asked, sitting across from the kitchen with her nearly indecent tits smooshing against the breakfast island: another distraction Dot had to push to the back of her mind for the sake of her own skin and blood.

Dot said, "I have been trying to learn for a few years. Someone else usually makes my meals."

There was some sort of dark shadow that passed over Chris' mood, but it left before Dot could figure out what the woman was thinking. At least Dot knew better than to say that the maids did all the cooking and she'd only begun to learn since high school had a home economics class. People didn't seem to take the knowledge well; they'd get a little distant over time as if there was no way she could appreciate the way they lived from way up there.

"All vegetables, yeah? That's why you're so skinny, you know. Gotta get some protein in there or you can't get nice and big like me." Chris said, adding in a squeezing motion with her shoulders which was imperative to ignore lest Dot shave off a fingerprint. "Oughta be like me, you'd get to put plenty of meat in your mouth."

"Buying meat isn't that difficult."

"Yeah? What, you don't like it? Too salty?"

"Only if it's overly salted. Not exactly a primary characteristic of meat in general."

"No? I find that tube steak is usually pretty darn salty right out of the package."

Yes, Dot was fully aware of what was being said. The fact that Chris thought she'd be embarrassed by the mental image of a big, salty cock was well off the mark however, and ended up actually improving her focus.

And Chris noticed that, too.

"Bet you like clams, right?"

The steak knife slammed through the tomato and clacked onto the countertop.

"Bet I've had enough meat in there you should have been able to taste it." Chris said, nearly reducing it to a single entendre, "Couldn't get enough. Know I've lost count now? Must've tasted some of that."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Cock." Chris could do a great cheshire cat impression, her eyes twinkled at the way dot needed to restrain herself from reacting. "So, any guys you do like or are you just a flat out lesbo?"

"No." There was the tomato done, sliced as thinly as the situation would allow with the meagre supplies.

At least Chris was having fun in her own way, and it was comforting somehow to be with someone that wouldn't mind teasing her like this on purpose. Dot didn't have to make up a reason to be looking in a certain direction just because there was an interesting curve of something plump and inviting, she could have put down the knife at any moment, walked right up to Chris, and buried her face in the woman's generous cleavage, snuggle herself into a world of pillowy delight, and there wouldn't be any consequences to speak of. Sure, there was more contact she could have in her everyday life, but there was always the fear that her friends might notice how long the hug had been going on or how tightly she was holding them to feel their sponginess against her body, how hot it was all making her.

The swimming team had been one solution, getting to ogle tight bodies under one thin layer, wet hair slapping against toned skin... and getting in the water would keep her cool enough, would make sure her being wet wasn't weird. And she still went to practice, but it wasn't the fix-all she'd planned it to be. As her mental catalogue of sights to masturbate to grew, so too did the pressure building up inside with no outlet, until now.

"Is your foot okay?" Dot asked, layering vegetable slices for the oven.

Chris put her foot on the countertop, showing off her flexibility in the process and how little her bottom piece actually concealed. There was a thin line of red running along the arch, but was already late in the process of healing. "See, just a little thing. One of my dates went a little sour since his girlfriend found out where he was, broke a bottle against my wall. Thought I got all the pieces but found one with my foot the day after. Jus' how it goes sometimes."

"Are you okay? That sounds horrible!"

"Huh? Yeah, girlfriend didn't do all that much damage. Looks like the bottle hit a stud or something 'cuz look, no dent or nothing."

Dot sighed, putting the tray in the oven and setting a timer, turned around to wash her hands in a sink full of beer cans. She'd only turned on the water when she was enclosed in arms from behind.

Tenderly nibbling Dot's earlobe, Chris whispered, "You don't have to worry about me, slut. This is pretty normal, and I got ways of keeping safe, alright? What's not normal: you've still got clothes on." Fingers wiggled around Dot's zipper to begin stripping her, were stopped with wet hands. "No? We've got a whole half hour to fool around while your stuff is cooking, why not see if I can squeeze an orgasm out of you?"

This was the danger; Dot knew if she let herself dive in head first she wouldn't have the composure to enjoy the experience. Waking up in the morning sticky with all sorts of things wasn't appealing if she couldn't savor each moment of getting that way in the first place. No, dinner had to come first, there was an order to these things even if her money was skipping some of the important ones.

She peeled Chris' fingers from her waist even while the woman giggled from her chin's perch on her shoulder. "Squeeze one out?" said Dot, "You make me sound like I'm an orange."

"I guess so, juicy and sweet. Just have to take off the peel~" Her hands slid across Dot's butt, pinching and tickling as they went, but Chris didn't make any actual move to undress her right then. Waiting for permission? "You squirt like an orange."

"Can't we just... relax and talk for a while?" Right, then they could enjoy a nice meal together and sleep with one another in due time, Dot's time.

-o-

Playing hard to get? Fine, that was Dot's game after all even if the girl was worthless at it. Chris had all night and part of the morning to tease the poor virgin anyway, so why not let her have this short reprieve?

Chris plopped down on the futon and turned on the television for some background noise, but also to look like she wasn't giving their conversation too much attention. The swimsuit had been a bad idea, she'd bought it for a client who requested it specially and the coverage was such that Dot had to be having trouble knowing where to look, but at the cost of having to situate the thin material back over her nipples almost every time she moved since the thing mostly worked through tension. What was she supposed to do, glue it down?

"So, um, how was your day?" Dot asked, carefully folding her legs beneath her as she sat beside Chris. There was no way she wouldn't remember the stink of that futon when sitting billowed up the sheet with a cloud of it. To her credit, Dot only scrunched up her nose a little bit.

"Eh, normal I guess." Nope, she'd spent most of that morning hauling garbage bags down to the apartment's dumpster. Why had she cared enough to clean in the first place? Who cared if there were still slivers of glass in the carpet? Well, she didn't like the idea of Dot finding one with her delicate, petite toes. "You?"

What was that thing Dot held in her pocket? The girl had been patting it habitually while she cooked and now that her hands were free and clean, one hadn't left that pocket.

Dot said, "I couldn't focus all day... It's almost like I feel sick, but I know that's just my brain playing tricks on me. Don't you ever get so anxious doing this?"

At first, sure. "Never, it's just sex, you know? It's easy, sometimes it's quick, sometimes it hurts but then it's over and you can get back to doing whatever. Not even that fun, just a thing to do."

"You don't enjoy it?" Dot was squirming, the conversation wouldn't let itself get away from fucking no matter how much her nerves demanded it.

"Far as I know, nobody really likes it. It's just like dicks are dowsing rods and if you take away pussy too long the dick starts kicking orders up to the brain. More like scratching an itch, right? Doesn't actually feel good but it relieves some of that pressure."

"I like it..." Dot whispered.

Chris grabbed the girl's shoulder so she couldn't run away and hugged her. "You'll learn. Pretty bottled up, aren't you? So of course it feels like it feels good all by itself, but you just wait, sooner or later it's gonna lose its magic."

"That sounds horrible."

That first time, had it actually felt good? All Chris could remember from that night was a hairy gut pressed down on her, some sweaty guy's panting, stinging pain, and having to wash blood out of the sheets in the morning while mom laughed at her... Surely it felt a little good, the sweaty guy said she came, after all.

"It's just life, baby girl. Doesn't mean we can't have a nice time all by ourselves, get that blood pumping." This conversation really wasn't going to be about anything but fucking unless one of them figured out how to take a left turn. "You're a schoolgirl, right?"