Ethan sank into the couch, Vegas's night slashed through the blinds. Mia's long hours at Eden's Edge silenced the evenings, turning the apartment into a hollow shell. Images of her invaded his mind, tore at him, igniting an excitement he couldn't face. Hiding under mismatched socks, the engagement ring mocked him, a relic of the life he once saw for them.
The "accidents" had continued unabated since the incident with Rick. He'd watched Tony's unfold on the app days later. Mia assisting with Tony, his cock grazing her, then slipping past her tiny thong into her pussy, managing a full thrust before she shoved him off.
"Tony, cut it out!" she snapped, pushing against his chest.
He chuckled, hands up in lazy surrender. "My bad, it was an accident."
She adjusted her stance, barely missing a beat before refocusing on the session.
Jake had his first turn, mid-session his dick pushing into her from behind long enough for a deliberate thrust or two. She twisted free, breath sharp, brushing her hair from her face. "Jake! Watch it!" she said, the words firm. He muttered an apology with a smirk.
Each night she'd drag in late, skin flushed, voice steady. "Sorry I'm late. It was crazy, but don't worry, I handle myself," she declared with pride. Ethan would nod, his jaw tight, the words pressing against his teeth, something raw and restless straining to be spoken, but never finding its way out.
The accidents evolved into a habit, or a fringe benefit for the crew, just a part of Mia's "assistance". Her resistance faded as it became routine, going from a one-time incident to a regular part of her day. She knew Ethan may have seen many of the sessions unfold this way but ignored it, hoping to keep the peace. He ignored it to save his fragile fiction of a life together, unable to translate his mess of emotions into words even if he wanted to.
Some weeks later, Ethan performed the nightly ritual of deleting the app from his phone in a feeble attempt to delete it from his brain. The icon vanished. He exhaled sharply, grabbing a tissue to clean himself up, then tossed it to the side. His chest felt hollow. He pushed away from the desk, staring at nothing, waiting for the shame to fade.
The next evening, his phone buzzed. A text from Mia: "Busy day, home soon." His cue that his next hit of poison was waiting. He decided not to watch. His stomach tightened. He sat there, pretending he had a choice, pretending this time would be different. Within seconds, his hand was already moving, tapping through the motions before he could convince himself otherwise.
There was Mia in the dim suite with a new face, eager to join the Mia club. Dex, he'd learn later. A lean blond with smug confidence. He stepped in, ready for his client. Mia, who no longer bothered with the thong by this point, wrapped her hand around his cock, aiming it toward the client, another aged hag. Dex moved behind Mia. He looked at her ass, hungry, then pushed himself into her pussy. He didn't hesitate. Just started thrusting, once, twice, then on the third, his body locked up. A groan punched out of him, raw and primal, his hips pressing flush against her as he emptied his balls, flooding her with cum.
Mia twisted around slowly, shock flickering across her face before she shoved him off. Dex hit the floor awkwardly, catching himself on his hands. He blinked up at her, the smugness wiped clean.
"Dex," she breathed, her voice unsteady. "What did you do?"
The client just laughed, enjoying the show. "I guess this one's on me, girlie."
Mia didn't respond. She stood there for a moment, fingers twitching at her sides. Then she turned and hurried out, her steps quick and uneven.
Ethan sat motionless, the screen still glowing in front of him. He reached for a tissue, cleaning himself up with numb, automatic motions. His heart lay in pieces.
Mia returned home late, her face drawn, shoulders tense. She stood just inside the doorway, hesitating for a moment before shutting it behind her. She lingered there, not taking off her shoes, fingers twitching like she wasn't sure what to do with them.
"Something happened," she said finally, voice thin. "Dex... this new guy." The words tumbled out slow, careful, like she was afraid of how they'd land. "He went in me, and I know that's messed up... again, but," she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep going, "he finished in me too." She glanced up, searching his face, then looked away just as quickly. "Celeste was furious. He was sent home. I swear I did not want this to escalate."
Ethan didn't move. His hands clenched into fists, breath coming hard and uneven. "I saw the feed, Mia." His voice came low, rough, barely holding together. "I saw the whole thing." He stood, and she flinched as if she already knew what was coming. "I saw him fuck you. I saw him cum." His chest heaved, his hands shaking. "I've seen them all fuck you."
Mia squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"It isn't like that, Ethan," she said, voice trembling. "Accidents happen. It's unintentional. I always tell them to stop." She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. "Dex is inexperienced, and it went too far. I didn't," her breath hitched, "I didn't want this."
Ethan let out a harsh, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he turned away. His pulse hammered in his skull.
"As if it's not bad enough you're handling their dicks," he spat, pacing the small living room. "They're fucking you. And now they're cumming in you? That's not an accident, Mia. You're letting them fuck you."
She shook her head furiously, her whole body trembling. "I'm not letting them," she whispered, voice breaking. "I don't want that."
"Then why does it keep happening?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Ethan let out a sharp breath and turned for the door. She didn't try to stop him. He walked for hours, the city buzzing around him, neon lights reflecting in puddles along the strip. The night air bit at his skin, but his mind burned hotter. When he finally found himself back at the apartment, the lights were off. Mia was in the bedroom. He didn't check if she was asleep. He collapsed onto the couch and shut his eyes.
The next morning, he cornered her in the kitchen, his voice firm, stripped of anything soft. "Quit. Right now. Call Celeste and tell her you're not coming back."
Mia finally looked up at him, pain in her eyes. "You know we need the money," she said, setting down her coffee slowly. "You haven't had a steady client in ages. It's not an option unless you can start scraping together some work."
His jaw tightened. She was right. That didn't make it any easier to swallow.
She exhaled through her nose, rubbing at her temples. "I'm done with assisting the crew," she continued. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I hadn't done enough to stop it. But I already told Celeste no more."
For a second, his breath caught. A flicker of something dangerous. Hope. It clung to him, light and fragile, like a bandage over a wound too deep to heal.
For a few days, it almost felt real. Mia came home on time. No late nights, no excuses. Just texts about coffee runs, about the ridiculous outfits she helped Jess and Lola with. Ethan clung to it, as if holding too tightly wouldn't crush it in his hands. The dream of her in white, the ring on her finger, felt close enough to touch. Still, the recordings had their hooks in him. But he told himself it was different now. That wasn't his Mia in those videos. Just someone else wearing her skin. That's what he tried to believe.
Ethan sat on the couch, flipping mindlessly through memes on his phone when Mia walked in. Things were falling back into place. She set her purse down and lingered for a second before finally speaking.
"Celeste sat me down today."
