Every day had been the same, until suddenly it wasn’t.
The house had long since become Blue Pierce’s very own prison. With old brickwork, sweeping arches, and the isolation of a monastery, it certainly looked the part. Yet when surrounded by innumerable people she’d never met, each room so packed the CDC would simply cream themselves enforcing social distancing, she’d never felt more alone.
Furniture that had never been looked at, let alone used was on full display. Every single light in the house was on; regardless of whether it was in use Bradley fucking Pierce had emerged from his office for the first time in only god knows how long… And all the teenager wanted to do was go back to her room and continue in her perfect fantasy where she had no parents nor care in the world.
Bradley was an actuary for an Insurance firm — often, he spent his evenings condemned to his office doing whatever there was to be doing outside of work hours. Perhaps he was financing his secret family with a twenty-year-old woman no one knew of… Or spending their monthly mortgage payment on various OnlyFans subscriptions.
He could be setting up a secret mini-golf course beneath his desk and all around his office just to retire to when his wife's questions and prodding at dinner became increasingly unbearable. Yet he stood. Shoulders squared, an arm strewn around his wife. Pocket square crisp and erect. Shoes as lustrous as his forehead. And Blue wondered how exactly he managed to pretend he didn’t completely hate his wife, Marian.
Standing beside her parents, a monarch accepting offerings from the peasants, she could hardly believe her mother was emboldened enough to call it her birthday party. With each approach of another of her father’s associates, Blue felt more and more like she was being filmed for Sidemen ‘Tinder in Real Life’. And wished she’d die a quick and painless death in childbirth before she bore the five or so children her mother desired and her vagina loosened so much it felt like throwing open a window and fucking the night.
Though Marian would never admit it, it was her daughter’s coming-out party. That is, coming out as a single woman.
And out of all the insufferable men that her mother had forced upon her, she hadn’t once been so much as directed to look at the only man who had taken her interest.
With a wide, cruel smile. Broad shoulders relaxed. Skin bronzed, perhaps the only man sans blazer in the entire house. Raven hair falling over his eyes at odd moments, cropped at the neck. Older; perhaps twice her age. Broad chest, tapered waist. She wondered what prize the buttons of his dress shirt led to. Hated herself for violating a complete stranger so shamelessly. Begged her parents to introduce them. But stood silently with a forced smile as she ought to.
Tearing her eyes from the stranger that seemed to serve no purpose other than to remind her of all she couldn’t have, she extended a hand to the next approaching suitor. “This is my daughter, Blue.” She needn’t the abrasion of her mother’s harsh American accent to stiffen her posture. As the sequins of her amber camisole gouged at the inside of her elbow and the taut waistband of her jeans forced her to suck in her stomach, Blue could imagine she looked like as much of a plastic doll as she felt.
Staring into the eyes of the man before her, Blue began to feel as though it was the best she’d be offered. He was younger. A full head of dark hair. Thin, firm lips. Strong, aquiline nose. Nice enough teeth. Rather dull looking. “Hello, Blue,” And as he spoke, he lost all appeal. He seemed to have no clue Blue was anything other than legs. “Richard, a pleasure to finally meet you,”
“Pleasure,” reluctantly, she clasped her hand with his—something she regretted almost instantly. His hands were one of the sweatiest she had ever touched.
Vincent watched as he had felt her countless times that night. He fantasized the pale skin peering from beneath her camisole; how smooth her thighs would be as he parted her legs carefully. How her golden hair would slip from her shoulders as he caged her beneath him. How her eyes would sparkle with lust and inhibition as she begged him to touch her. Suddenly, the cuffs on his blouse were far too tight. And he wished she’d stare at him again so he could complete his fantasy where stared up from beneath him, wrapped around him so completely.
"I must say, you’re just as beautiful as your father said you were,” In all honesty, Blue almost laughed... but then again, she almost vomited, also. Perhaps if he was slightly more attractive than he was, or even slightly younger, she would have accepted the advance. Instead, he was cute for a father of three and young for a high-ranking banker (neither of which he was)—but still not quite cute enough.
Tugging her hand from his and discreetly wiping it on the back of her trousers, she offered a meek and appreciative smile where her words failed her. Though firm and curt and rather forced in nature, the thought of all the presents she had to unwrap the following morning softened her so slightly. Richard considered if now was the perfect time to ask the woman on a date.
Staring over the man’s shoulder begging silently that someone choke on their canape so she could make a beeline for her bedroom, Blue met the eyes that had been so distracted from her own. The blood rushed from her face.
Staring at her as though he had been for quite some time, a drink clutched in one hand and the other stuffed in his pocket, she watched the dark-haired man’s lips tug into a small, shadowy smirk. And wondered if it was a mere ‘hey, kid’ smile. “If you could excuse me, I really have to use the bathroom,” Before she could think any better of it, she’d turned around, stepped between her parents, and begun a hasty climb of the staircase.
Vincent’s stare lingered.
He watched the gentle swing of her hips as she fumbled a step in her heels. The bounce of her tousled hair. The bare skin beneath the low back of her shirt. Offered a short, mindless apology to the people whose conversation he had become trapped in. Followed her almost too quickly.
Stood at the landing at the top of the staircase, staring at an open balcony door with curtains billowing like a smoke plume so gently in the breeze, the man decided that he could not and would not be arrested for the fact he’d been given a blue-steeler by a barely-legal walking up some stairs—at least, not in the court of public opinion.
Watching the girl who leaned over the edge of the balcony as though she was contemplating tossing herself off, Vincent arrived at a junction that would alter the course of his entire short life. And made his approach.
Hi everyone! 'Shady Blue' is currently under revision, so certain names may not completely match up and sections of chapters may not blend together properly (i.e. Margetta's name change to Anya). Thank you for your patience, Happy reading ;)
Hearing shoes scuff the Moroccan tile, Blue spun on her heels. Face set into an apprehensive frown, arms crossing over her chest and shoulders raised as though to add some height, she met the man’s gaze with a banishing statement readied. Yet slackened almost instantly. “I thought you were Richard,” Vincent decided her voice was far softer than he’d imagined. “Wishful thinking?” Slowly, he advanced, both hands hidden in his pockets, hair tousled by the breeze, and stood by the girl’s side with his shoulder delicately brushing hers. Wondering if her skin crawled at the touch as his, begging for closeness. A European accent thickened his words, lips speaking in such a way she imagined them in rather compromising places. Though she made good work of hiding it. “Not exactly the word I’d use,” “Happy birthday, by the way,” Vincent turned to face the girl after a moment of truncated silence, her eyes flickering to his own, smile warm in a way that softened his comp
Vincent made his ingress upon the point of no return. As he unbuttoned the woman’s jeans, slipped a hand down the front of her, and raked his middle finger along her dampened underwear, he found he could barely manage to stifle a low groan. His heart sunk as she gripped his arm for dear life. Ignoring the pull of reason, he indulged the desire he had no strength to turn from; slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, traced her length, and began ringing the devil's doorbell. “Do you feel that?” his words came in a groan. Blue’s head hung forward. She felt far too shy to acknowledge the erection that pressed so gruesomely into her ass… Despite the fact he had his hand in her pants. “What?” “You know what, Blue,” Suddenly, his hand left her. And Blue failed to stifle a begging whimper. “Look at me,” Eagerly, she spun to face the man, completely oblivious to the fact that her gut would be hanging from her trousers and she felt as though she was ab
“Morning, Anya,” Blue hardly paused as she jumped from the last stair and came face-to-face with her mother and the maid. Marian sat proudly at the end of the table, a plate of fruit half-massacred in front of her, breast implants bursting from the front of her electric blue cocktail dress. Anya hovered nervously. The dining table had been pushed back to the center of the room. The decorative furniture moved back to the basement. No remnants remained from the previous night—aside from the dull throb of her groin and the fingerprint bruising to her thighs she had no choice but to wear jeans to hide. Summer thus far had been kind. The days were bright but cold. She spent the mornings in bed relishing the fact she’d never again go to school if she so desired. She’d thrown out the pleated skirt uniform the day she’d graduated, deciding never again to appeal so unwillingly to the male gaze. Loved the fact she could wear whatever she wanted. Clad in a half see-through brow
“I take it you must be missus Pierce,” Blue met the man’s eyes, and though she had wondered what color they had been, staring at the deep green framed beneath dark, sinister brows, she was far more concerned with her desire to be swallowed by the ground. Staring in complete disbelief, she watched as he shook hands with her mother using the very same one he had had in her underwear a mere twelve hours prior. The blood drained from her face. Suddenly, she began gulping down her coffee. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” The humor of Marian's apparent nervousness was lost on Blue. “Vincent is our newest CEO, he was kind enough to move a big meeting for us to come this morning, inviting him was the nice thing to do,” as he spoke, Bradley offered the man the same stiff smile they’d all thrown at each other. Blue wondered if they were speaking in code. "Blue, I presume? Happy birthday from
Following as carefully as he could, trying rather earnestly to mask his footsteps and holding his breath for whatever reason, Vincent rounded the corner and pressed into Bradley’s study. Blue had stood silently, staring through the window as though she wished she’d disappear completely, only moving to meet the man as he silently closed the door behind himself—and rearing at him instantly. “My god! can’t you leave me alone?” Her approach was quick, and while the man had at least five or six inches on her, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin as though she hadn’t a fear in the world. As she did, Vincent couldn’t help but feel he was being attacked by a toy poodle suffering small dog syndrome. And smiled. “Is this all a joke to you?” “Your father invited me, Blue, do you expect me to turn down all invitations that may involve you just because you told me we can’t see each other again?”  
Staring back at the man she wished so desperately was Vincent, Blue found it rather difficult to force a stiff smile. Cocking a warmer, thin-lipped smile of his own, hair so covered with gel, Richard gently kicked at her foot as he had one time too many and smiled as though the gesture somehow sexually pleasured her. Blue wondered if the mug she wanted to club the man over the head with so desperately would shatter from his hair alone. Wondered if he could find the clitoris even with a map. Carefully sipped her green tea. She’d long since given up eyeing the clock across from her. It had been precisely eight fifty-nine for five minutes by then. As the longer arm ticked over, she found it would make a gentle retreat each time she glanced away. Or so she felt. She had to give her mother some credit for not springing a chaperoned date on her at the very last minute. And while dinner with Richard wasn’t exactly what she’d consider an ideal night, she’d ha
Climbing from her open window, Blue suddenly felt she was sixteen again. She hadn’t a care who could happen past her window and stare up her skirt as she sliced her finger on a rather jagged vine—had already forgotten the Wikihow article on climbing from a second-story window she’s studied like the bible. It had only been a mere day ago she’d hung from her balcony half-naked. A mere twelve hours since she’d been dry humped in her father’s study. It was safe to say she hadn’t the self-respect to care, not after the night before. Darting down her own driveway as though fleeing from a crime scene, the thought hadn’t occurred to Blue that they hadn’t so much as organized a meeting place. Suddenly, she found herself feeling quite anxious. In all her sexual frustration, she hadn’t the mind to ask for even crucial information. Was he picking her up? Was she meant to call a car? Were they meeting at the restaurant? Where were they eating? And as she pulled
“How am I supposed to get over there?” “That’s an issue, not an ish-me,” Suddenly, Blue found she had no other argument. “Fine. A little privacy please?” finally slipping her purse from her shoulder and kicking it to the floor, she broke from the man. He watched eagerly with a smile that needn’t betray a trace of his excitement; wordlessly sunk back in his seat. Watched as she flattened a hand over the front of her skirt and began to climb over the center console rather gawkishly. Vincent couldn’t help but chuckle. “After last night, I don’t think you need to worry about me seeing up your dress, sweetheart,” smiling gently, he tugged the woman into his lap. As he did, she became rather aware of the erection she hadn’t yet noticed. “Now, how well do you think you can keep quiet?” “Well enough, thank you,” “I’ll take your word for it,” speaking with a certain abruptness, he braced the woman’s back with one hand, the other slipping beneath the he