Nearly a Promise

"I think..." I said, breathing heavily, "I think I'm done." I was surprised -- I probably would have wanted more but the moment was still so surreal, so strange, that this brief intermission was enough to make me realise I needed to get away so I could just stop and think about all of this.

"You sure?" asked Cheryl.

"Yeah. Super sure. Sorry."

"No apology needed," she replied, standing over me and pulling her panties up, adjusting the waistband, then her jeans. She turned to bend down and pick up her bra -- I got to it first and handed it up to her. "Thanks very much," she said with a smile.

"Don't mention it," I whispered, my clit throbbing, as I watched her dress the rest of the way.

"So," Cheryl asked, once she was dressed. "You want me to stick around, or...?"

"You can go," I said, "but maybe leave your number on my desk? Maybe I'll want to see you again."

"Sure." Cheryl leaned over my desk and scribbled down a number on a post-it note. I wondered if, now all this had happened, her feelings for me would be permanent or if they'd fade away into the wind with the Kupri-commanded pheromones.

Cheryl saw herself out, leaving me sat on my bedroom floor, my underwear still around my ankles, trying to make sense of the dream I was wandering around in. Slowly, I got to my feet, got my clothes back where they were meant to be, and found my phone. I brought up the text conversation with Amber.

"Well," I wrote. "It works. Got any more?"