Publicly Owned

This is a continuation of the Play Practice series:

There used to be characters in this industry. Genuine eccentrics in publishing. Of course that was all stamped out by "professionalization," private equity, and other wonderful "innovations" in the past couple of decades. In my opinion, the single most important skill for a novelist to have is a keen love of people. I spent my life learning what makes people tick and it has allowed me to imbue my characters with rich interiority and believable, complex psychology. This has, in turn, contributed to my considerable critical (and occasionally commercial) literary achievements. Is it any wonder, then, that I'd seek to surround myself with interesting people? Take Erin, for instance. Could I have signed with a more accomplished or seasoned agent? Most definitely. But she was interesting. And fun. Always involved in some caper. Most recently: stealing some curvy, married girl away from her husband and turning her into her assistant/slave/fiancée. It was that kind of intrigue that kept me coming back. Not the sales or the awards (though she had gotten me both). It was the fact that Erin was a character.

And so I disembarked my train at an agreed-upon stop in the middle of nowhere one Friday afternoon for what I hoped to be a weekend of fun. As promised, a car was waiting: a black Mercedes--the only car in the lot, parked in one of three designated parking spaces. The train departed and I descended the ramp to the waiting car. The driver's side door opened and a tall, voluptuous woman with long chestnut hair and breathtaking alabaster skin appeared before me.

"You must be Alyssa," I said.

Erin had been explicit: there were no limits apart from anything Alyssa objected to, which Erin predicted would be practically nothing. "Put her through her paces" was a quote.

"Erin's so sorry she couldn't be here to pick you up personally. She had to take a call that couldn't be moved, unfortunately."

"No trouble whatsoever. You're a far more beautiful chauffeur."

She smiled and looked at the ground.

Alyssa was like the Platonic ideal of one of Erin's girls. She was wearing a belted trench coat but I could tell from the swells under the beige twill that she had all the criteria: big butt and thighs, substantial chest. And from our brief interaction, a submissive nature. Classic Erin. Me? I am as omnivorous as they come. I love women of every shape and size. Hell, I even occasionally let a man slip it in, once in a blue moon. But sometimes the mood strikes and all you want is a pork chop. Practically nothing else will do. It was clear to me that this was one of those times. I could not wait to sink my teeth into this girl.

"Let me put your bag in the trunk."

Alyssa popped the trunk open with her fob and collected the weekend bag from me. She bent over the trunk to stow my bag and I caught a glimpse of her considerable hind encased in leopard print spandex from beneath her trench. I'd have my face buried it in before the night was through. I was rarely wrong about these things.

"Alyssa, I need to make a quick stop before heading to your home. I need some toiletries. Is there a market somewhere nearby?"

"There's a small shop on the way. We'll pop in and get anything you need."

"That would be wonderful."

She drove us into town, which was more charming than I had expected. Georgian touches, plenty of brick. All the way she made idle chit chat, telling me about local politics, trouble with the new waste management service, an Italian restaurant that had just gone out of business. I just listened and smiled politely, and all the while, in my head, formulating my opening move. A moment presented itself when we got to the market.

"Alyssa, darling, aren't you hot in that thing?" I said, pinching a segment of the twill trench coat around her shoulder.

"Oh, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It's making me hot just looking at you. Are you sure you don't want to take it off?"

"If it's making you uncomfortable, I will..." Alyssa said.

She unbuckled her seat belt and shrugged the trench coat from her shoulders, tossing it in the back seat. I was able to get my first unobstructed view of her and she was a masterpiece: thick, as young people used to say. The top was black and low cut, showing off her ample bosom, and, coupled with the leopard print leggings, the outfit left nothing to the imagination. I couldn't tell if this was part of Erin's vision for her, or if this girl had legitimately bad fashion sense. Don't get me wrong- she looked delicious, just terrifically unfashionable.

"Much better, don't you think?" I said.

"Yes, it is."

She smiled. So compliant.

I followed her into the shop, watching both leopard-printed-buttocks bounce at each step she took. She turned around, undoubtedly catching me staring at her behind.

"Um, should we do a basket or do you think you'll need a cart?"

"A basket will be fine."

She took a basket and followed me dutifully through the store. It didn't take long to acquire the few things I could plausibly need: floss, vitamins, travel-sized deodorant. Once they'd been procured, I continued to lead her through the aisles, just to browse.

In one narrow aisle we had a near bottleneck with an old lady pushing a cart full of soda cans.

"Careful, dear," I said.

With one arm on the small of Alyssa's back, the other on her arm, I pulled her out of the path of the oncoming cart.

"Please excuse us," I said to the old woman.

She looked Alyssa up and down and scoffed at her outfit. I decided to have some fun with this old bat and truly scandalize her.

"Alyssa, darling? Can you get me one of those packs of sleep aids? The generic ones on the bottom shelf, please. I had back surgery a few years ago and I can't get down there."

The pills were so low to the ground that Alyssa had to drop to a deep squat to reach for them, pushing her ass out into the aisle. I made eye contact with the old woman, raising my eyebrows as if to say "I'm gonna be having that later." The old woman was sufficiently scandalized, but I also thought I detected a bit of...jealousy? So sorry, old girl. It was Erin's anyways-- I was just taking it out for a spin.

Two aisles over there was a small produce section and I looked the cucumbers over, turning each one in my hand and inspecting their dimensions. A clerk passed and I flagged him down.

"Excuse me. Do you know if these are the biggest ones you have? I mean aren't there any bigger than these?"

Alyssa blushed.

"I don't think there are anymore of them. Everything we have is already on the floor. Couldn't you just buy a couple of them?" the clerk added, helpfully.

"Unfortunately, no. It would need to be a pretty big, single cucumber," I said, looking at Alyssa.

The clerk's eyes bugged out of his head and he quickly made himself scarce, muttering an apology about the inventory as he turned.

"You're terrible," Alyssa said.

I patted her on the ass and tossed one of the bigger cucumbers in the basket.

"Just having fun. Come on. I just need to get one more thing."

We arrived at the condom and lube section.

"Oh...Laura. Erin has plenty of this. You don't need to get anything."

"If we don't, someone might assume that we're going to cook that cucumber. I want everyone in this store to know exactly what we're going to do with it. I want there to be no doubt."

She blushed again.

"Goodness. You're not embarrassed to be seen like this, are you...Lyssie Lips?"

She stopped dead in her tracks.

"How did you...? Did Erin tell you?"

"Are you kidding? I've had all those videos for years. From back when you were posting them. I recognized you the minute I saw you."

"Oh my God."

I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"They were delicious, but amateurish. I always wondered what a true professional could do for you."

I led her past the self-checkout to the only open register with a human cashier, a fifty-something woman with acrylic nails. She scanned each item and, once the plan for the night was plainly evident, the cashier did not look up, keeping her eyes fixed at the display on the register.

We paid and returned to the car. Alyssa was quiet.

"I know you loved that. Being shown off, paraded around. Exposed as the slut you are. It's not enough for you to be owned. You need to be owned as a matter of public record."

"You're right. I'm so fucking turned on."

"That's the Lyssie Lips I remember. Do you want to cum?"

"Oh God, yes."

"Then follow me."

I marched her back into the shop and stopped the nearest clerk.

"Excuse me. My friend is having a panic attack. Can you point us to the bathroom so she can splash some water on her face and catch her breath?"

"Uh, sure," the bespectacled man said, pointing to a swinging door. "It's just through there."

I pushed Alyssa through the door and into the single occupancy restroom just beyond it, locking the bathroom behind us.

"Tell me Lyssie, what was it like being married to a man? Did you ever shop at this store with him?"

I slipped a hand down past the front waistband of her leopard print spandex and stuck two fingers into her soaking cunt. She started to moan until I planted my other hand firmly over her mouth, smothering the sounds.

"I bet they know you're a pussy hound now, though. I mean seeing you with me. Me with this bob and these clothes I'm wearing, I think I read as pretty dykey. Then I paraded you around that place like a trophy, bought vegetables and lube to fuck you. I wonder if they heard how you left your husband for a woman. I imagine word travels fast out here. In here we still have to be quiet, though."

I turned her around and pressed her face against the bathroom tile so that I was rubbing against her ass. I pulled the spandex down to her ankles and bent her over at the waist-- her ass was even more irresistible out of the stretch pants. I started to pump her pussy from behind with two fingers as she pushed back into my hand, riding my digits.

"That's a good girl. Ride those fingers, you little pork chop."

Faster and faster I worked the fingers in and out while my non-penetrative hand remained covering her mouth. I removed it for a moment.

"Are you ready to come?"

"Oh God, yes. Please Laura. Please, please, please, please."

"Okay, pork chop. Here you go."

I put my hand back over her mouth, pounding her cunt with the first two fingers of the other hand until she made a noise like a steam engine from under the gag. I could feel her hot breath huffing on my palm, but I didn't relent. I kept working her over until she shook, then went limp.

We cleaned up and left, arriving at their house a short time after. It was remarkably tasteful. Erin had an eye for beautiful things, and a way of acquiring them. I followed one of them into the other, as Alyssa took my bag and lead me through the front door. When we arrived, Erin was sitting back in an Eames chair (possibly authentic). Alyssa ran to her and kissed her deeply on the lips.

"Thank you for collecting our guest, love. Go take her bag to the guest room."

"What did you think of the pages? Am I good? Do I get to play?" I said.

Erin grinned.

"They're excellent. Inspired, even. I think it could be tighter, maybe fifteen percent shorter. But inspired."

"Fifteen percent? Listen, cunt..."

Erin laughed.

"I'm just kidding. I loved it. I do think there's some places to tighten up, but it's your best work yet, I'm sure of it. And Alyssa...did you have a nice time? The train got in over an hour ago."

"What do I think of your new pork chop? Incredible. Your best work yet, I'm sure of it."