THE PINK MISTRESS

CONNOR

I couldn't sleep at Eddy's tonight. I tried, but what Lola had asked kept echoing in my head.

I had looked at the leather wrist watch on my wrist and decided it wasn't too early to make a decision even though it was 2AM.

Refusing to get drowned in the confusion that loomed in every single corner of Eddison Langford's mansion, in the temptation that clawed aggressively at my chest, in the difficult situation both husband and wife had successfully tethered me to, I had picked up my car keys and driven through the gates without a second thought.

I was running on a speed of a stubborn offender being chased by cops along the highway of Beverly Hills, my mind very far away from the confines of my Mercedes-Maybach GLS 600 thinking of whether to go home or go elsewhere for the rest of the night.

Suddenly, a sharp deep vibration crashed roughly through my thoughts, causing my breathing to lag through that moment.

"F*ck!" I yelled, losing control of the steering but fast enough to hold the brakes, the wheels screeching loudly through the silence of the night, finally coming to a stop through a sharp bend off the road.

I allowed my head to sink right into the steering wheel, my arms dead cold beside my ears.

My phone continued to ring until I pulled myself up and grabbed it off the pigeon hole, staring at the screen like it was the reason I was driving absentmindedly in the middle of the night instead of resting in preparation for my surgery section which was approximately in five hours time.

"F*ck you, man! To hell with youu," I screamed, my chest tightening against my thoughts as soon as I saw the name across the screen.

Eddy!

It was at that moment I knew for sure that I wouldn't be able to pull through the night alone in my house, so I drove to the nearest club and booked a service room for the night.

I always had masks in my car for moments like this — I was still a renowned surgeon, well respected in the field. I was still smart enough to know that the internet was hungry. 

News of me seen in a nude club in the middle of a cold night in the city a few hours before a major operation would cut my credibility by more than sixty percent — I was always careful.

Few minutes after my booking was completed and confirmed, I was sprawled against the giant bed of the best of their best VIP rooms — empty, ready, bare with just the piece of patterned mask as the only material on my skin — it covered the upper half of my face, secured tightly behind my head.

A knock landed softly against the door, twice — the first one a few seconds before the second one. Then, the door swung open and a lanky blonde with pink lacy lingerie slipped in.

She had one end of a plastic handcuff secured on her left wrist, and a pink butterfly mask hiding every feature of her face except her lips which were plump and moisturized, then her nose and eyes.

She didn't take her eyes off me as she closed the door and secured the lock in place.

I seized that opportunity to signal her attention to the cuffs — I wasn't in the mood for activity.

She nodded and I saw her lips curve into a smile before she proceeded to unclasp the cuff from her wrist.

It made me remember the first time I saw Lola smile, and my stomach flipped.

The pink mistress noticed I was thinking about something else, probably someone else and I watched her lips slip into a grin — these girls, from experience, were very perceptive.

"I hate pink." 

It was true but I wasn't going to say anything about it until I felt the need to say something just to distract her from feeling bad about her discovery — not like I cared, I just wanted her to give her best in her best spirit.

"I hate it too," she returned in a clean, clear voice, her eyes still glued to my face.

I waited for her reason.

"I did this because I wanted you to be irritated about something, then watch myself make you bow to that same thing."

"And you think over-dressing in pink would make me?"

"Well, it works. A lot of men are irritated by it."

I chuckled.

"I'm not."

"That's fine, because it appears you have something else on your mind. I like that. A distraction works too."

Her voice had slowly switched from bold to raspy — she knew this game.

"Lights or no lights?" she asked, separating my legs and crawling to take position in the middle.

"Fine with any---F*ck! Pink bitch!"

She covered my c*ck in her mouth, taking on the entire length at a go, it made me go wild.

I made to grab her hair, but went for the sheets instead after finding out it was a messy short cut and grabbing it would only cause her scalp pain.

She pressed my chest down with her stretched out arms, her bum shooting out big and round behind her, then her lips worked like a perfect machine for the activity.

She was fast, her throat deep, her tongue wet and my slit dripping.

She went back and forth several times until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

As soon as my eyelids stuck together, I imagined Lola in the same position as the pink mistress. I grabbed the sheets tighter, until.my knuckles turned white.

I pressed my eyes more shut until my thoughts began to solidify.

Lola's mouth would probably run better than this and my whole body would be on fire.

Her skin would warm up better against mine and we would regulate each other.

"Can you fall in love with me?" Lola's voice, in the same pleading urgency she had said it, returned to my head.

I pushed the pink mistress's head harder into my c*ck, aching my back off the bed until she gagged, saliva pouring out her mouth onto my skin.

Were Eddy and Lola pulling my legs?

Was Eddy testing my loyalty to the friendship?

What was the worst that could happen if I give in?

Slowly, she rolled her lips off my c*ck, giving the cap a defined slutty leak.

"Don't stop!" I yelled, because I didn't want the scenario I had conjured with Lola to become just memories.