My Pretend Sex Slave 08

I didn't take my eyes off the painting, afraid to see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Nice painting," I said.

"You like it?" she asked.

I noticed more detail as I stared. The girls weren't unscathed, they had small cuts or welts. In one image they had tattoos, both of them.

"Does the attractive darker woman have a tattoo?"

"Indeed she does," Lisa said, followed by "How are you?"

"Getting there," I said. "You?"

"Same," she said.

"And Jett?" I asked.

"Go talk to her," Lisa said.

"Not yet," I said. "Someday."

I stared at the painting. Maybe my quaint life was a prison, and I was afraid to be free. The idea didn't bother me.

Lisa stood next to me. She didn't move.

"I'm sorry," Lisa finally said.

"Me too," I said.

"I didn't know what I was doing, not until you told me," Lisa said.

"Lisa--"

"No," she said. "You were right, I just didn't... I never put words to it, never understood. It was wrong, for both of us. I didn't realize how much I was hurting you."

I was absolutely certain if I took my focus off the painting, if I shifted to Lisa, I would lose it.

"You figured it out before I did," Lisa said. "And when you told me, everything hit at once."

It should have been obvious, but it took a moment to process. Lisa wasn't some mastermind, selectively hiding and revealing her pain to ruin my life. She hid her trauma in plain view, and even so none of us could see it, not even Lisa.

I turned and faced her. Lisa was beautiful, expressive brown eyes and cute lips, dark hair that framed her face.

"What now?" I asked.

"How about I keep my clothes on?" Lisa said. "And we can go from there."

She smiled. I smiled back.

"You still need me to lie on the background checks?" I asked.

Her eyes sparkled in a way she couldn't fake. I missed this. Missed her.

"No need," she said. "No rocket designs for me. I... I shouldn't spend my time learning how to hurt people."

She smiled. "At least not as a profession."

--

Mia and I drove to Oklahoma. My car was finally out of the shop. That alone did wonders to break me out of my malaise. It should have been an eighteen hour drive, one long day. Thanks to Mia, it took two.

"Do you know Eureka Springs has both a Haunted Hotel and the world's largest Passion Play?"

I eventually realized that Mia had no sense of style. She borrowed bits and pieces of looks she liked, thick framed rockabilly glasses and a Diane Keaton blazer. An imitation couture dress with the wrong shoes, so bad even I noticed. But she never did, and no one would tell her, especially me. She wore kindness on her sleeve, and the world responded.

"What's a Passion play?" I asked.

"You may not make it as an Okie," she said.

"Why do I need to be an Okie? We are going to leave right?" I asked.

"Shut up," she said, playful.

I typed the location in my phone. It was hours out of the way, in Arkansas. I looked over at Mia.

"Haunted. Hotel," she repeated. I put the new destination in. A new detour. Not our first. Not our last.

--

Mia's family was wonderful. Her dad was a professor, thirty pounds overweight, and genial. Big Santa Claus energy minus the beard. He was so used to performing lectures that he never really turned it off, even around the house. Mia's mom would occasionally cut him off, reminding him that we weren't his students. I didn't mind.

Mia looked a lot like her mom. A little bit taller, obviously younger, and not nearly as round. They shared the same gray eyes and energizing smile. Mia's mom was perpetually baking. I learned what "proving" means. It has to do with bread.

"You thinking about grad-school?" her dad asked me. We had a moment outside, him showing me his expansive garden and immaculate grass.

"Mia is," I said.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. The last few months had been so crazy. Sometimes I struggled to get through the week, much less plan years ahead.

"You ever think about Oklahoma?" he asked. "Good school."

"You trying to bribe me?" I asked.

"Not yet," he said. "Mia is crazy about you. I can tell."

I smiled.

"She says you are quote, nice," he said. "That true?"

"I want it to be true," I said. I felt so stupid. Why a cryptic answer when a simple 'yes' would do?

We walked around more flower beds.

"That's a strange answer," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "Mia is wonderful, she..."

I looked at her dad. He was hanging on every word. He wasn't intense or angry, but there was a lot going on behind his eyes, making up his mind about me.

"I don't need to tell you," I said. "What was the question?"

"What kind of man are you?" he asked.

I looked through the bay windows in to his house, to Mia and her mother inside. Mia waved, smiled at me, then gave her dad a dirty look.

What kind of man was I? I'd been trying to untangle that for months. Ever since Lisa, our night together.

"One who knows that what I want and what is right aren't always the same thing," I said, "who keeps trying to do the right thing, even if it hurts."

Mia's dad pondered my words. Something shifted. He patted me on the shoulder.

"You know, life isn't as complex as people make it out to be," he said. "Trying to do the right thing is usually good enough."

"Yeah," I said. If this was a test, I passed. I took a deep breath. Things were going to be better.

"So how about you come to Norman and get a masters, and we hatch a scheme to get Mia to follow." He smiled. He wanted his daughter closer. I understood.

"She misses you," I said. "Misses home. Maybe she doesn't know it yet, but she'll be back. Soon."

"I like where your head is at," her dad said. He was joking but also not joking. "What's the plan?"

"She'll decide where she wants to be," I said. "And I'll follow."

We were wandering around the sprawling greens that constituted his yard. Damaged red-buds littered his property, branches broken off in an ice storm. Even so, the pink and white buds were beautiful.

"Not anywhere close to a good scheme," Dad said. He looked content. "But it's a good plan."

--

We hung out for a few days. Her family was wonderful. That first night, I offered to sleep on the couch.

"Nonsense," her mom said. She left our stuff in Mia's childhood bedroom. The bed was too small, not even a twin, but we didn't mind. It was a feature.

"This is weird," Mia said. Her room was frozen in time. Movie posters from a decade before, Hunger Games and Moneyball. The only change was additional odds and ends, half the room converted to storage.

"No Twister poster?" I asked.

"That movie sucked," she said.

We laid next to each other, spooning or kissing, my cock ready for her, but the rest of me lagging behind. We still had fun.

--

It took two days for the weather to change. Conditions were right for severe storms, a tornado watch was in effect to the west.

Mia's parents told us to be careful. Then we were off, heading west down I-40. Mia and I drove toward the storm, darkness ahead despite it being early afternoon. The contrast felt ominous.

The first hail stones were tiny, hitting sporadically, not so different than the shifting rattle of a tic-tac. Mia was watching the storm on her phone, a map of oranges and reds shifting in real time.

"It should be... fine," she said.

As we drove forward, the stones got bigger. The innocent rattle transformed to heavy thunks against the car, weight and inertia conveyed in the flat sound of ice on metal.

The windshield wipers were on full, and water fell across my windshield in sheets. It was a struggle just to see the red lights of the cars ahead of me.

"You are okay," I told myself. I could barely see past the hood of my car. Each chunk of ice rattled against my nerves as much as the vehicle. I told myself again, "You are okay." Then again.

Mia watched her phone. Her usual smile had faded. Not a great sign.

"Should we pull over?" I asked. We were out in the boonies, nothing but fields and cows. There was a shoulder but not a great one.

"No," she said. "Cars behind us can't see either. We can only go forward."

We drove deeper in to the storm. Whether I believed my mantra or not, it was true. I wasn't dead yet.

The hail intensity picked up, and right as it became unsustainable, ready to bust through my windshield, the back of the storm broke. We were past the dry line, in to low humidity and cool air.

Mia smiled. "Go again?"

--

We stopped at the next gas station and took a moment to reflect on the weather behind us, watching the storm build, cumulonimbus clouds climbing higher and higher in the sky. We could ballpark the intensity from the height alone. The sun was warm and inviting once you got past the storm.

Mia came back with oversized bottles of water. She wore cream colored shorts that stopped at her upper thigh and brown leather cowboy boots. The combination drew extra attention to her nice legs. A plaid overshirt and a white halterneck completed the ensemble. Her chunky black glasses and baseball cap were out of place. I didn't mind.

Mia wasn't a country girl. She was playing a character for my benefit, explaining that this was how the sorority girls dressed.

When I tried to poke fun she simply told me that "You should be so lucky that I'm wearing this costume for you." Then she kissed me.

She wasn't wrong.

Mia tossed me a bottle of water. She was a big grin and bright eyes.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Intense," I said. "I wasn't sure we would make it."

"I never doubted," she said.

--

I sat on the white sheets of a hotel bed. Mia was still in her cowboy boots and halter top. The overshirt was long gone, exposing pale shoulders as she paced around. Her shirt highlighted the precarious nature of her clothing, amble cleavage threatening to break loose at any moment. Mia was on the phone, but saw me staring at her body and smiled.

"Yeah," she said. "We're three hours west."

Mia was talking to her mom.

"We don't want to drive back through it. Better to camp out for a night," she said. Followed by "Yeah, love you too."

She hung up. Mia looked at me, her eyes were fire. She stalked the short distance between us, like a tiger before the pounce.

"So?" I asked.

She closed the gap in a rush, her lips greeting mine, wild black hair fluttering against my face. My heart was racing as our tongues met.

Mia landed solid against my body, but it wasn't enough to knock me over. She positioned her legs outside of mine, leaning her body against my hard cock.

She stretched her arms above us, leaning her breasts against my face, pulling her shirt high and exposing her sexy navel. I kissed the interior of her breasts. She moaned, leaned down and kissed me again.

Why had we waited so long? Me. My choices. Stupid. Fixable.

I tried to kiss her again, but she slid around and off me, laying on the bed, her dark hair spilling on white sheets. Mia smiled, was always smiling. My overflowing shame or guilt never got to her.

Mia found my eyes then spread her legs. One cowboy boot lifting off and touching down. Then the other.

I ran my hand down the inside of her leg, my fingers tracing a delicate path down her body. When I reached a cowboy boot, I pulled it off. Then the other.

"No boots?" Mia asked, pretend whining.

"You won't need them," I said.

"What else won't I need?" she asked.

I stared at her beautiful body, wonderful breasts, the nice curve of her hips, delicate collar bones and thick thighs. Mia looked great in those clothes. She would look better without them.

I wanted to tear every piece of clothing off her body in one go, but there was no hurry. A storm separated us from the real world. We had nowhere to go. How fortunate.

"Definitely not those shorts," I said.

"Yeah?"

Mia undid the lone button and opened her shorts. I watched her slide them under and around her body, exposing lacy pink panties. She had a plan.

I pulled her shorts the rest of the way off her body, then crashed down next to her. My lips on hers, my hand running across her thighs and in between.

Mia moaned again. When I pulled away from her lips, she looked... surprised maybe. Content. I flashed a stupid grin and kissed her some more.

Then she was peeling off her shirt. Her breasts full, large nipples and pink areolas. I took the opportunity to ditch my shirt and pants.

We had a momentary ceasefire. Mia letting me admire her body, watching me watch. Her eyes lit up at my stupid grin.

We collided again, her naked breasts against my chest, my leg sliding against her panties. I ran my hands down her back, settling on her ass. I squeezed her tight against me, grinding her against my leg.

Her fingers found my hard cock. Eyebrows arched in a question. Now?

I nodded.

I felt a release of tension in her body. We were kissing again.

"Condoms," I interrupted.

She pulled away from me, her gray eyes finding mine. "No need," she said. "I prepared for this moment."

"For quite some time," I said, acknowledging her patience with a smile.

"It was worth it," she said.

Then I was sliding off her panties. The hair between her legs was a lighter shade, more brown than black. She was stroking my cock as I ran my fingers across her pussy. Soft skin into course hair, then back again.

The hands on my cock accelerated, so much they started to chafe.

"I'm ready," she said.

"Me too," I said back.

I positioned myself against her, running my leg up and down her naked pussy one last time, then I was between her, my cock against her, kissing as I entered, only pausing for a moan, to give her a moment to focus on the pressure.

We made love like that. Eyes and lips in contact, my body above her's, cock sliding in and out, her whimpers and moans. Missionary position, more than enough. She was everything I needed.

Mia didn't come that first time, but she didn't care. We had all night. And every night after.