For weeks, Ethan had kept his promise to himself. The app stayed deleted, the temptation fought back each time it surfaced. He'd maintained his distance from that digital window to Magic Mia. The images still haunted him though, piquing something inside that he hated himself for. The apartment sat silent except for her late returns, each one testing his resolve not to ask the questions clawing at his brain.
Willful ignorance comes at a cost. He hadn't set foot near Eden's Edge since her early days there, when he'd witnessed her handling their cocks. He'd pace the cramped living room, their last fight consuming his thoughts. Maybe it wasn't as bad as his imagination painted it. Maybe he could keep living in this careful denial. He'd repeat it like a mantra, "It's not like that, Ethan," steadying his breath, he almost believed it.
He had to see for himself. He couldn't sit with the questions anymore. Keys dug into his palm as he grabbed them. He drove to Eden's Edge. Her code still worked, slipping him quietly through the side door once again. He navigated the hallways, time slowing to a crawl, telling himself he'd just check, watch her prep them for clients, not fuck them, "It's not like that" still on repeat in his head. Nothing he couldn't take.
The back room door swung open, and his mind broke. There she was, Magic Mia, sprawled naked on a padded bench. Jake jackhammering into her pussy, hands clamped on her hips. Her head tilted back as Tony fucked her mouth while she moaned around him. Her body jolted, a sharp gasp breaking free as she came, thighs trembling, eyes fluttering shut. How many times she came, he couldn't tell, but her flushed skin screamed more than a few. She caught sight of him mid-climax, spitting Tony out with a wet gasp. Her face lit up like he'd strolled into a coffee shop to catch her at work.
"Hey, Ethan!" she chirped, wiping her lips with her hand before Tony dove back in.
Ethan froze, nausea clawing up his throat. Two at once, condoms glistening with her juices, her body a tool for them, and her cumming, over and over, lost in it. This was worse than he'd imagined, far past the recordings that'd gutted him. Jake pulled out, peeling off his condom, ready for a client. Tony stepped back, her mouth leaving him with a slick pop before walking past Ethan, primed for his next client. She sat up, grinning, grabbing a towel to dab sweat and other fluids from her body.
"You should've texted," she said, hopping off the bench. Her red hair bounced as she padded toward him, naked and glowing, sweat beading on her skin. "Busy night, barely had a minute to catch my breath."
His voice wouldn't come, head spinning, the room's stale air choking his lungs. She stepped closer, her scent cutting through the haze. Shock drained the blood from his face, rerouting to his dick against his will. She studied his face for a moment.
"You okay?" pausing for a few more. "Ethan?"
"What the fuck!?!??" exploded from him, vision blurring. "You're fucking two guys at once, Mia, cumming your brains out!"
She frowned, tilting her head, red hair catching the light as she crossed her arms. "Ethan..." soft, almost pitying, "we talked about this, I'm just preparing the crew for clients, not... doing that. There's no touching." Her eyes focused on the floor. "Look, my body reacts sometimes, I can't help that."
He stumbled back, the floor unsteady beneath him. He wanted to scream, to drag her out by the hair like some caveman, but his feet were cemented to the ground.
He forgot how to speak. She placed her hand on his arm. "I'm doing this for us, there's no touching, like you wanted, and it's working. Business is booming, it's because of me!"
A voice called for Magic Mia from the office. "Hey, I've gotta run okay? See you tonight." she said before she bounded out of the room. Ethan stumbled out like a zombie, movements mechanical, autopiloted from the void where his mind had been.
Arriving home, he slumped on the couch. His thoughts began to resemble something coherent. Magic Mia, the engine behind Eden's Edge and their recent rise. At home, she had been too exhausted to touch him for weeks. The rare nights they managed, she'd drift off mid-thrust, leaving him stranded.
He was afraid to hope. But a desperate idea took root in his mind.
Waiting up for her to return home, he met her at the door. "Let's go out Saturday," he said, smiling, wearing a thin mask of pre-Magic Mia Ethan. "Somewhere nice."
She paused, surprise flickering across her face. "Sure. That sounds nice."
The next day, he made reservations at Carmine's, the Italian place she'd been wanting to try. Too expensive for their budget, but it was their future at stake. The ring sat heavy in his sock drawer, waiting.
Saturday night arrived. He'd spent an hour getting ready, ironing his blue button-down, the one she'd bought him last year. His hands wouldn't stop shaking as he fastened the buttons. His heart dropped when one broke off. He hoped she wouldn't notice and tried to maintain composure, taking deep breaths. The ring box felt like a brick in his pocket. His rehearsed words evaporated each time he tried to recall them.
At Carmine's, the hostess led them to a tiny table wedged between two large parties. Mia didn't seem to notice, her eyes taking in the dim lighting, the ornate ceiling. When she smiled at him across the table, he caught a glimpse of the old Mia.
"This is nice," she said, reaching for his hand. "We haven't done this in forever."
He squeezed her fingers gently, studying her face in the candlelight. Her hair, still that vibrant red that had first caught his attention years ago, cascaded over her shoulders. For a moment, he could pretend they were just a normal couple celebrating a special night.
The waiter arrived, reciting specials in rapid Italian-accented English. Ethan nodded along, pretending to understand. They ordered wine, something red and expensive that made Mia's eyes widen when she tasted it.
"So...." she said, a hint of suspicion in her smile. "What's the occasion?"
"Do I need one?" he asked, his voice surprisingly steady despite the ring box weighing down his pocket. "Just wanted to do something special."
Conversation flowed more easily than it had in a long while. She told him about a movie she wanted to see, he mentioned a potential client who might bring steady work. Neither mentioned Eden's Edge, a shared illusion he was desperate to maintain. As they ate, he found himself laughing at her jokes, leaning in to hear her over the restaurant's din.
When the food came, his nerves got the better of him. He gestured too widely, knocking his fork against his plate of fettuccine. A splash of creamy sauce arced through the air, landing perfectly on his freshly ironed shirt.
"Shit," he muttered, dabbing frantically with his napkin, making it worse.
"Here," Mia said, dipping her napkin in water. "Let me." She leaned across, working at the stain. Her touch, even through the fabric, sent electricity through him. It had been so long.
"It's fine," he insisted, though it wasn't. The stain felt like an omen, another thing gone wrong. He took a large gulp of wine, willing his hands to stop shaking.
