Goddess Ch. 03: Gladiators

"Not even a little."

And I meant it.

We argued over whether or not Sara knew who we were, and if not, what the best way would be to tell her. When she surprised us with warm, wet washcloths and dry towels, we instantly rolled off the bed and cast knowing glances at each other—it had been lucky we'd been speaking quietly.

We cleaned up quickly and could only stare at Sara as she dragged the juicy comforter to the floor. And it was Sara, not the "anonymous" goddess anymore, despite her mask. Her hair was down, long and flowing like it was on a normal day, brushing against her naked back like Jeff and I had fantasized about so many times before.

She crawled toward us and helped us out of the ridiculous (but effective!) gladiator straps while we took off our equally ridiculous (yet, also effective) sandals. Sara's soft hands were on my back as she unbuckled my strap; it was all I could do to stop from shivering under her fingertips.

Fuck this. No more hiding.

I lifted my mask only to have Sara's hand close on mine, her large breasts pressed against my back, her voice pleading to keep the mask in place.

I didn't want to, but with her naked body pressed against mine, I would have done anything she asked. She rewarded me with soft kisses along my neck and a breathy "thank you." in my ear. I couldn't stop myself from shivering at that.

The three of us stood there, tenderly touching and exploring each other. I mean, Jeff and I explored Sara, but she explored us right back. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for her to lean back and let us worship her—and we would have been thrilled for the chance—but the way that she kissed us, the way that her hands and fingers lingered so gently...I had never felt so attended to even when I was one-on-one before. She was an incredible lover.

My hand slid between her slender legs, working its way to her wet opening. I parted her labia and worked fingers inside of her, reveling in the moans I was eliciting. Her eyes rolled up and closed, and when she opened them again, I withdrew, sucking her sweet nectar off of my fingers. She stared back at me.

"I want you in my ass this time."

Goddamn, Sara!

She was lucky I didn't come on her leg. If she hadn't already gotten me off twice, I probably would have.

Jeff tossed her onto the bed, and she giggled, climbing on top of him. I followed closely behind, hoping this was how it was going to be every day after we got back to school. We were together, laughing, almost that often as it was—this would just be adding orgasms to the mix. I couldn't imagine that would be a problem.

As fucking hot as it was watching Sara impale herself on Jeff, I wanted to join in. I got his secret lube recipe and began pressing into her, taking my time and enjoying every inch. This round was just as intense, but...sweeter? Tender. It was undeniably tender, which is a weird thing to say about group sex, but no other word comes close to describing it.

We came again—I should say, Jeff and I came again, I lost track of how many times Sara came—and moved en masse to the bathroom to clean up together. When she had crawled back under the sheets, Jeff had the wherewithal to ask her if we could stay, and I think both of us held our breath until she said yes. It made it all the more disappointing when she declined to take off the masks yet again.

In the morning, then, Sara. In the morning.

Blondie

Mark and I must have sat staring at the floor by Mark's bed for a million years; the spell was only broken for me when Mark jumped up and made for the door.

"Dude...I..."

"Don't, Jeff. Just fucking...don't."

He slammed the door behind him, and I was left feeling nauseated on top of a broken heart. I wasn't much of a drinker, but that wasn't about to stop me then. I blindly made my way down a few blocks to the nearest bar and stumbled inside. I don't know how long I was there, or how much I drank, but I woke up next to an unfamiliar girl in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar house. I gathered my clothes and sneaked out quietly.

It was not my finest hour.

I eventually made my way back to the dorm, stumbling through the door to our room just as Mark was getting ready to leave. He wouldn't look at me, he just left, the door slamming behind him again. I winced at the noise, but didn't have the strength to chase him down. I didn't bother with life at all that day or the next, only leaving the bed to stumble back and forth from the bathroom. Mark was MIA the entire time.

Despite having no desire to do so, I eventually realized I had to try to live again. Unfortunately, that meant Econ with Sara, and I just wasn't prepared to deal with her. Or rather, deal with what we'd done and how it was making her feel. I waited until class had started, then slipped in and sat at the back of the large class. I wouldn't meet Sara's eyes when she looked my way; I didn't know what—if anything—I could or should say.

Mark and I passed each other without talking for almost two weeks; I couldn't stand it. I finally confronted him by standing in front of our door so he couldn't leave, and I thought he was going to take a swing at me.

"Don't make me kick your ass, Mark."

"Like you could, pussy."

Oddly enough, that was what broke the ice between us—it happened to be a long-standing joke of ours about one of our douchebag roommates our first year at school. I laughed, and Mark grudgingly smiled. He hadn't meant it to be funny, but I didn't care. It was the longest I'd gone without talking to him since we'd met; I was more than ready to let it go.

I slid down the door and sat on the floor, patting the space next to me. Mark sighed and flopped down next to me, drumming his head against the wall.

"What are we supposed to do, dude?"

"I have no fucking idea, man, but we have to do something. I miss her."

I put my hand on his knee and gave it a quick shake.

"I miss you."

He sighed deeply.

"Yeah. I do, too."

"Sorry I fucked everything up. You were right, it was a really bad idea."

"Actually, it was a great idea, and before Sara dropped that bomb, I thought it worked better than either of us expected. I've been really confused."

I appreciated the sentiment, but it was hard to feel relief knowing we'd hurt Sara so badly.

"You and me, both."

We sat side by side in silence for a few minutes—a nice, comfortable silence instead of the tense, accusatory silence that had been between us.

"We have to talk to her."

"I know."

Mark sighed again.

"We have to tell her."

I closed my eyes and nodded. I knew that, too.

"When?"

I stood up and offered him a hand.

"Now, before I think about what we're about to do."

We lumbered down the stairwell, grudgingly making progress to Sara's dorm room. As soon as we opened the door to her floor, we heard her screaming.

"YOU STUPID CUNT! YOU STUPID, DISGUSTING, PATHETIC CUNT! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

Mark and I looked at each other, eyes wide, mouths agape. Sara was almost criminally kind—neither of us had ever heard her say anything as harsh as what was blasting out of her open door.

Our steps became brisker, and we reached the doorway in just a few long strides. Sara was on her knees, facing away from us, clutching something to her chest and sobbing while a disembodied voice spewed laughable allegations. My guilt melted away to be replaced by fury. In all of the years I'd known her, I had never seen Sara cry—aside from a few embarrassed tears when we watched cheesy Rom-coms.

I should have guessed the persecutor was Michelle. She was a pathetic cow of a human being, and she seemed to have it out for Sara on a good day. I'd never considered hitting a girl before, but the fact she had made Sara so upset made me want to round-house kick her in the head. Instead, I challenged the threats she made, pinning her blotchy face and bulgy eyes with a stony glare.

Mark was quick to throw the ridiculous charges Michelle was making right back in her face, causing her to stomp past us and upset Sara further. The guilt and doubt that had kept us from Sara's side vanished as we crouched down beside her and consoled her as best we could.

It didn't seem to work at first. In fact, it seemed to make things worse, but we couldn't just leave her there and we didn't know what else to do. After a while, she calmed down a bit and I chanced putting an arm around her. She slumped into me and allowed Mark to wipe her tears, pressing her face into his hand. I hated to see her so upset, but it felt good to be together again. I hoped it wasn't for the last time.

Sara quieted, and I looked down at the golden shards on the floor. I nuzzled my face into her silky hair and gently asked what we could do to help, but apparently whatever Michelle had broken, it was a lost cause. When Sara finally showed us what she was gripping so tightly, Mark and I oscillated between staring at it and each other.

It was certainly damaged beyond repair, but it was just as certainly the mask she'd worn to Caesar's Palace. The mask she wore when she wore nothing else. The mask she wore when we fucked her, and made love to her, and fell asleep with her in our arms.

Mark had the faculty to ask Sara about it, which was good, because I was too stunned to say anything. Not only did he ask questions, he asked the right questions.

"This is important to you? Why? Is that what you were talking about the other day?"

His last question loosened the metal band that had been closed around my chest since we'd last spoken to Sara. It gave me hope. I asked my own question.

"Did you regret meeting them, or did you regret leaving them?"

She started to answer, every word making us feel like fools for wasting so much time because of the misunderstanding weeks before. I thought Mark was going to kiss her.

Not yet!

Not that I blamed him, but the timing wasn't right. Thankfully, he saw that, too, and instead met my eyes over Sara's head. I nodded and swept her into my arms.

"We have something to show you."