"Who
did you
want it to be?"
What a loaded question.
---
On the car ride from the airport, I couldn't not think of Belle, knowing I was heading her way. Thankfully I was in an Uber, where I could hide my growing arousal from the privacy of the backseat.
Maybe I should've been pleased my uncle was too busy to pick me up himself. It was his girlfriend, after all, that was the one fueling these desires. Would I be able to enjoy my x-rated thoughts of her right now if he was at the wheel?
My Uber was headed to my uncle's new mansion, one that I hadn't been to yet. Apparently, he was throwing a huge house party there later tonight, coincidentally the same day I was returning home from college.
Unfortunately for me, returning "home" wasn't exactly straightforward. When my modest-earning parents downsized and moved across the country last year, it'd left me without a fallback housing option in the city that I'd grown up in, the same place where I now wanted to start my career.
Luckily, my Uncle Arthur still lived here, still thriving as some kind of big-time international broker. He had happily offered to host me while I got my life in order. I could see my mom having sternly warned her younger brother:
"Artie, Ken's going to end up homeless and dead if left to fend for himself. You need to take him in!"
My mom's lobbying aside, I was just grateful I'd have a bed to sleep on at night. I just hoped that Belle, my uncle's younger live-in girlfriend, didn't already hate my guts. I highly doubted she'd want a poor college grad like me taking up space in her home, eating from her fridge, infringing on her privacy.
Though I hadn't met Belle yet, I'd known of her since forever. She was a public figure, making a living as a lingerie and swimsuit model. You could've argued that she looked like any other gorgeous blonde, with her subtle curves and legs for days. But she was different to me in so many other ways.
For one, I relished Belle's relative anonymity. Felt like she was my little secret, where you basically only knew her name if you'd cared enough to look her up. Otherwise, she was probably just a static photo in an ad you'd come across. You'd notice her attractiveness, and then go about your day.
Not for me though!
I'd been jerking off to Belle since high school. The first time I came across her swimsuit photos, they'd lit my hormonal imagination on fire. I'd detached a fold-out poster from a magazine, which featured her in an eye-popping bikini, lying on a beach. I'd pinned the poster to the wall in front of my bed, a convenient visual for self-pleasure before sleep.
From that point on, Belle had become the staple of my masturbation fantasies. My chronic addiction was imagining her with other men. I got off on it every time, without fail. Her swimsuit photos back then must've imprinted some weird psychological coding in my brain—something that couldn't be undone now.
To bring this full circle, the day I'd found out my uncle was dating Belle was beyond surreal. Made me question every single truth in my reality. It was during my Criminology 201 lecture, when my mom had texted me a photo of a woman, plus a message:
"Just chatted with your Uncle Artie. He's dating this model now. Isn't this the girl you had a poster of?"
The odds of my uncle dating Belle, when I sat down and actually thought about it, weren't all that implausible. He was a 40-something guy who obsessively worked and worked out, handsome and successful. Men like him dated girls that looked like her. Their circles probably overlapped more than not.
Little did I know, that now her circle would soon overlap with mine.
***
My Uber drove up a long gravel driveway, stopping at the front of a vast two-story mansion. There were open loading trucks also parked, stocked with cocktail tables and rental furniture, random people unloading them.
As I exited the car, the first thing in view was a tall, slender blonde, wearing a white tank top and matching linen shorts. She stood on the steps leading to the front door, a smile coloring her face, hands clasped in excitement.
"Ken! Is that you?"
"Yes?" My voice went an octave higher, taken aback that I was now actually in front of Belle Adelson. Her height was jarring, having an inch on me, at least.
"So good to finally meet you! Welcome home!" Belle skipped briskly to hug me. Tightly. As if we were already familiar.
"Ni-nice to finally meet you too." I could feel my nerves starting to get the best of me.
She casually left a hand on my shoulder. "So how was your flight?"
"Not to-too bad. How was yours?"
Belled crinkled her eyebrows, confused.
How was yours? What the fuck, Ken!
I immediately knew I misspoke right when the words escaped my lips.
Act normal, dude. She's a person, just like you.
Belle's hand retreated from my shoulder. Probably thought I was some weirdo who didn't know how to talk to women.
I quickly got a hold of my senses. "How was your flight?" I asked, improvising. "I heard you're a model? You probably fly constantly to really cool places."
"Oh. I was just in London, come to think of it. But I flew back here last week."
"This house looks amazing!" I changed subjects.
"Do you like it? Your uncle and I bought it last year when we moved in together. Come on, I'll show you around. And don't worry about your luggage, it'll be brought to your room."
As Belle started guiding me toward the house, I looked behind me at my suitcase sitting on the gravel driveway. Then I noticed my driver still standing next to his car. He hadn't left yet, a perverted closed-lip smile adorning his face, his eyes squarely fixed on Belle (probably this entire time).
Belle brought me into the foyer, where I immediately took stock of my surroundings. Super high ceilings, modern fixtures, a floating staircase. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls separated the living room from the backyard, where I could make out dozens of staffers outside, setting up for the party tonight.
"Can I offer you something to drink, Ken? We've got sparkling water, wine, craft beers, you name it. Your uncle told me college had probably made you a cheap beer guy, but 'we'll make sure to upgrade his tastes.'" Belle's voice had gone deep to impersonate my uncle's. It was actually kind of cute.
She continued, "I told your uncle that you can drink whatever beer or beverage you prefer, no judgment." Belle's bubbly demeanor was disarming. Not at all what I'd expected.
"I think I'm fine for now, thanks. Is Uncle Artie also here?"
"Not yet, he told me he's out doing errands for tonight's party. I would've picked you up from the airport myself, of course. I had to stay here though, oversee all the party staff running around. But I hope the Uber I'd ordered was comfortable. Was the driver nice?"
"He was, yeah." If I knew Belle well enough, I would've mentioned that my driver had eyed her delicious body like she was fresh prey.
Belle proceeded to show me around their magnificent mansion. It had a swimming pool, home theater, among a slew of other luxuries. Even the game room in the basement felt bigger than my college apartment.
Belle then led me up to the second story, where we passed multiple rooms until we reached the end of the hall.
"Alright, well this one's yours." Belle pointed to a closed door. "It's right next to mine and your uncle's." She then gestured toward her master suite, which had its double doors open. I snuck a glance inside.
In the master, I spotted an extra-large bed with a mirror above it, affixed to the ceiling. Interesting. Unable to control my dirty mind, I immediately imagined Belle in a short, silky nightgown:
She'd be lying on her back, her skirt wedged up around her waist, her matching panties strewn across the floor. A man, sitting on his knees, would be plowing into her. Over. And over. And over. She'd watch herself in the ceiling mirror, staring at her face, locked in pure ecstasy as she moaned non-stop, unable to suppress her volume.
And I'd be outside, ears pressed to the closed double doors, hard as a rock, enjoying every second of every sound I could make out. And then it occurred to me... That the man likely doing that plowing would be my uncle.
"Ken?"
"Yep?" I quickly shook myself from my daydream, hoping my pants weren't showing anything. I made eye contact with Belle, who was now wearing a worried expression. I wondered why. What the hell kind of vibe had I been giving off?
"...Do you not like your room?" she asked, her tone suddenly so vulnerable.
"It's fine," I replied, trying to be polite but fearing I'd already offended.
Belle sighed. "Look, I get it, Ken. You're a young guy. You probably want your privacy. If you're annoyed at our room being too close to yours, I can always prepare you a different one."
My mind hastened to correct her, tell her that the room's proximity wasn't the issue. Yet I couldn't tell her the truth. That I did secretly love being close to her bedroom, so I could hopefully hear her having sex.
Belle added, "I'd only suggested this room for you because, honestly, it has the best view of the sunrise. I wake up early and go in here sometimes, just to stand on the balcony and watch it for a few minutes. It's calming. And makes starting the day so energizing. I thought you'd like that..."
Shit.
She was being genuine. And I was coming off as ungrateful.
"I love the room!" I said. "Um, I just froze up because I don't want to be a nuisance to you and my uncle. This is your house. Your sunrise room. I'd hate to be the reason you lose it."
"Don't be silly, Ken." Belle playfully ruffled my hair, then combed it neatly back in place with her soft fingers. "We're basically family. What's mine is yours too."
Belle then finally led me inside my room, where my eyes were drawn to a row of shiny balloons in the shape of letters, floating along the far wall: W-E-L-C-O-M-E K-E-N.
She giddily stood next to items on my bed, looking like she was ready to recite a prepared speech.
"So Ken, hope you don't mind, but I bought some extra things that I think a college grad like you might need. A new laptop. Yours to keep of course! I think your mom told your uncle your current one was on its last legs. Also, I had a fashion friend gift me a couple of men's suits, y'know, for your future job interviews. We can get them tailored together next week, maybe hang out and get ice cream after?"
I was dumbstruck. "Wow, this is all way too generous! I can't take these!"
"Of course you can! They're my welcome gift to you!"
"I don't know what to say..." I was flustered. "Thank you, Belle. I mean, Auntie Belle? Uh, do I even call you my aunt?"
"Please don't!" She giggled. "Your uncle and I aren't even married, let alone engaged. Plus, I'm only like five years older than you. I'd be more like a sister, if anything."
"Can't say I'd know what that feels like. I'm an only child. But now I'm looking forward to kicking you out of my room when you annoy me," I said jokingly, getting her to laugh, both of us seemingly building a bond that I hadn't anticipated, or even knew I'd wanted.
Since I'd met Belle, she'd been nothing but warm and welcoming, greeting me at the door, ordering my Uber, buying me all these nice things. She was dispelling every negative stereotype I had of models being vapid, self-absorbed divas.
And yet here I was, just minutes ago, fantasizing about her getting pounded in the next room over. Shit, now I was feeling guilty that I'd jerked off to her seven times last week.
After Belle returned downstairs, I plopped onto my new bed, just to take a breath, soak everything in—this new chapter of my life.
***
After a tidy power nap, I checked my phone that'd been charging on my nightstand. The sunset was nearly gone. What time was the party again?
