Author's vanity note: Let's start turning up the heat. I've cut this several times, and it is still the longest chapter yet. Sorry if it drags a little. Perhaps I should have cut more. Instead, I decided to keep up the momentum - the goal is still to finish a story. Thank you, dear reader, for your patience with the long build-up - we are nearly at the main body of smut :)
Edit v2: Continuing this story after a long break, I re-read the entire story and the sudden, unannounced time skip that used to be in this chapter made my eyes water. I couldn't leave it like that; it was sloppy, it was too painful. I've made this a linear timeline.
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Tristan waited in the hall of the Flint building. The place was deserted. He was early for his next lecture - literature or some mandatory nonsense. It wasn't related to his major so he'd switched off already. He was engrossed in his phone, barely paying attention to his surroundings. He idly scrolled through clickbait, just wasting time. The Flint building was colloquially called 'the cave' by the student body for its lack of ambiance. A brutalist monolith, the grey unforgiving concrete walls felt like the bars of a prison. Alone in a dungeon. Tristan couldn't wait to escape.
"She's got nice tits." a soft voice whispered in his ear.
He leapt almost a foot in the air.
"I-I'm not... I wasn't..." he stuttered, whirling around.
"Busted!" the woman whooped.
By the voice, it was probably Alice. She was doubled over now, her guffaws interrupted by great gasps for air. Definitely Alice, she was the only one who behaved like this.
Shaking his head, he looked up and down the spartan hallway, seeing a few people milling around in the bland emptiness. There were a couple of girls loudly debating the merits of the book he was supposed to have read. A couple of geeks throwing a 20-sided dice and giggling to themselves. A mousey type at the near wall, reading a notebook. Someone checking out their reflection in the window while yammering on their phone. Nobody was paying attention to Tristan.
He tried to say something but felt the words die before they could leave his lips. He couldn't ignore the fact people would overhear and judge what he would say. This crap still plagued him, the weight of social expectations a millstone around his neck, choking him into silence. Well, he wasn't the old Tristan anymore. He was the new, slightly-upgraded Tristan. Now with more perverted features. This Tristan knew that there was an easy fix. He took Alice's hand gently and led her away to the far corner. It was still public, but far more unlikely anyone would overhear them. She followed immediately, compliant, content to let him lead her. The victorious smirk he knew she wore burned a hole in the back of his head.
Tristan, you're such a wimp, he lambasted himself as they walked. Why did he care was this still a problem? He didn't need to doubt himself this much anymore. His dates with Alice and little... sessions with Stacy over the last few days stood out in his mind like jewels in an iron crown, boosting his confidence. But every time he thought he had gotten over it, he discovered another little handicap, another speed bump.
He was a couple of steps from the far wall now. With the distance, Tristan's frustration finally overcame his anxieties - for a moment he felt free to do what he truly wanted to do. He lifted their linked hands and twisted, spinning Alice with a little flourish. Like they were dancing. She twirled obediently, passed him and bumped gently into the concrete wall ahead with a little gasp.
Their 'handshake' complete, Tristan took a step back to scan Alice properly. She was almost unrecognizable. Her face had a whole pack of makeup on it, concealing her beauty. Her hair was back in a severe bun, emphasizing her cheekbones but giving her an odd, stern aspect which clashed with her personality. She was encased in a short black pleated skirt and tight pastel pink blouse which clung to her like a second skin, hugging her curves.
"Alice?! What are you wearing?" he blurted out artlessly.
"You like?" she said, straightening up and holding her arms out to the side.
A predatory part of his mind noted that she'd put herself on display for him. It stirred, started to strain at its bonds. Before he could stop himself, he put one hand on the wall beside her head. That forced him to lean intimately into her space. He held her between his body and the wall, his arm closing off the area. Here in this small, slightly less public space he could exercise a modicum of control. He took a moment to enjoy it. Alice's trademark exuberance and supple body were bottled up for his enjoyment. His penis began to grow despite his protests. Possibilities fanned out, many of them would get him arrested, be they in public or not. Was Alice okay? She just smiled smugly, undeterred. Perhaps she would like to be...
"Sure, 's okay." he murmured distractedly.
Alice frowned in annoyance. What was he doing, acting like a complete ass? He knew better than that. He pushed himself to continue.
"On you, I prefer the sweet innocent look. It just makes me want to corrupt you." He kicked himself even as he spoke.
This again?
"So it's right back to this?" she echoed his thoughts. "Well I'm already well beyond saving, so get that thought out of your head. Anyway, this crap took me more than an hour! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you? Didn't you tell me you don't obey anyone?" he countered.
"Didn't you want to be my boss?" she smirked.
Tristan laughed. Alice was an both inviting him and issuing a challenge.
"Fine, then consider that an order." he said.
They shared a grin, staring into one another's eyes. Then as if a shadow passed over her, her smile faded, and she looked down.
He turned away to scan the corridor again. There were several people there now, but all of them were grouped around the door to the auditorium. Still no-one was looking, but he began to feel uncomfortable. What if someone thought he had Alice pinned here against her will? He wanted to shout 'She's fine, she wants to be here'. He took a half-step away from her, giving her an escape route.
Before he knew it Alice had her hands on his waist and pulled him back to her, their bodies close. Their legs entangled. What the hell was she doing? They stood in silence for a moment, inches apart, each thinking their own thoughts. His erection throbbed. Obviously his body was having no trouble understanding the situation. He couldn't help compare her to Stacy, this position the mirror of the one in the restroom. Her chest, more modest, but suited to her body. Lithe. Powerful. Pity about the lack of restraints, but her obvious curiosity made a powerful leash all the same. He wondered what it would feel like to tie...
As he fantasized, the fabric of his jeans dug into his growing member. He shifted uncomfortably, forgetting their position. He felt it brush her thigh and his heart stopped. He was filled with dread. Oh fuck - had she felt it? She tensed up, then relaxed again. He tried to move back, but her hands had a strong grip on his waist. He examined her face, but she was lost in thought. There was no way she didn't feel that. Was there?
"Hey, Boss, can I borrow your phone?" Alice asked him abruptly.
Tristan had to take a second to sweep away all his other thoughts so he could parse that. He shrugged. That was a weird question for their third 'date', but it's not like the thing was filled with secrets. He felt like he owed her something for the night at the restaurant when Stacy interrupted, so what harm could it cause? He held it out to her, but didn't release it when she tried to take it.
"In return I expect something from you, too." he said.
"Maybe!" She tugged it from his grasp, holding it up victoriously. "I'm surprised you gave this to me so easily."
Sometimes, only when something happens do you realize how you feel. Tristan was struck with the feeling that this was a horrible mistake. Did he ever uninstall that porn app? He mentally reviewed his browser history - hadn't he visited that BDSM story site? Even his photos would disillusion her, running the gamut of male geeks, just like him. Well, mostly like him - Tristan was the weird one even in his social group. He wanted his phone back, but something inside him hit back with revulsion when he imagined taking back his words.
As if he wasn't already regretting it, when she lifted the screen his cellphone cover - a supervillain, naturally - was exposed in all its dubious glory. That cover had seemed like a good idea at the time, back before he'd ever been alone with a woman. Meaning last week - had it really only been a few days?
He cringed and tried to snatch his phone before she saw it. She evaded him, turning away so he couldn't take it. His hands accidentally touched her arm, brushed over her blouse and more... interesting parts as they continued to struggle for his device.
"HR, HR, the boss is groping me!" she cackled. "What, is there porn on here or something? Naked selfies from your legions of women?"
She'd been loud enough several people were looking. Stop, Tristan told himself. This is undignified, not who he wanted to be at all. He retracted his hands, still standing close to her.
"I wish!" he said, in a low voice. "If you've made any yourself, I'll take all you're willing to share. Or we can come to... some other arrangement."
Alice blushed prettily, her lustrous sable skin darkening further beneath her make-up. For once she had nothing to say.
