"Mr. Kisaragi, my severance check is in the mail. Once it comes in, I can pay the rent in full!"
"No, Tom. You live in this apartment for months, you pay for it! I'm making it easy for you. I let you have extra time to pay and you still can't pay. No money tomorrow, no apartment! No money, and you leave. But you still pay for living here. I know people who can make you pay."
Once Kisaragi slammed the front door of the complex, the woman standing next to Tom hugged him and broke out in tears.
"I wish I was back home, Tom. Why did we move so far away?" she asked.
"It's okay, Jean, I'll try to talk to him again."
"He sounded like he was part of the mob or something, threatening to make us pay. I think he's serious about this."
"Okay, but he's gotta understand--" Tom was cut off by a strange man tapping his shoulder. He put out the cigarette he had been smoking under the awning of the building next door.
---
The stranger had introduced himself as Mr. White and offered to pay off their debt as well as the next month's rent. The price for this lunch, he explained, would be an hour with his wife. Mr. White let them discuss it in private.
Tom stalled, reminding her "Marriage is a sacrament, Jean!" He was unsettled by her quick acceptance of the proposition, but he had no other solutions. As Jean said, this was preferable to living on the street running from whatever goons Kisaragi might send after them. Tom eventually broke down, unable to find an alternative to White's offer. Jean said they could be forgiven because of their predicament, but Tom wondered how long it would take. She also tried to take the blame for their problems, scolding herself for overspending on frivolous things – dresses, yoga class, cutlery. He stared into her eyes, seeing nothing but sadness, and he knew his eyes must have looked the same to her.
"Hey, you always tell me how guys don't connect love and sex, right?" she asked.
"Yeah, but that's other guys. You know what I think," Tom replied.
"Well, try to think of it that way now. It doesn't mean anything. I'm just gonna get him off real quick and it's done. Then we've got our money."
"He could be some sick psycho fuck – I mean, he is, doing this to us. But he could be dangerous," said Tom.
"Get the gun."
"That's what I was thinking."
"It'll be all over soon, sweetie. Just one hour, that's it. I'll make sure it's the worst sex he's ever had." Jean kissed his forehead down to his nose to reassure him, something they had done since they started going out. Mr. White approached and cleared his throat.
---
Tom took a box from the closet and popped the clips open. The Colt Single Action that his grandfather had given him sat inside. Just looking at it made his churning stomach settle a bit.
By the time he opened the door to the bedroom, the two had already started. Jean stood shirtless, her pants undone. White pulled on one of her belt loops and her pants joined her shirt on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, tonguing her like a desperate schoolboy. She reluctantly allowed him to probe her mouth, standing still as a statue until they moved onto the bed. Tom sat down in the chair next to the bed and placed the gun behind the nightstand outside of White's vision.
White removed his tongue from Jean's mouth. "The more your wife takes off, the more beautiful she looks. Say, why don't you undo her bra for us?"
"It's okay, I can do it," she said, reaching for the clasp.
"No," White said forcefully. "Your husband will do it if he remembers who has the money here."
Tom sighed, slowly reached for the clasp, and popped it open. White spoke: "Good, now get rid of it." Tom pushed the straps off her shoulders and threw the bra on the floor. Helping White undress his wife wasn't part of the agreement. What next, he wondered. Will he ask for Jean to be served to him on a decorative platter?
"Your wife has an amazing set, Tom. I can't imagine how you can keep your hands off these things for more than an hour at a time," White said as he groped her chest rather obnoxiously. His mouth soon followed, his lips clamping around her nipples.
Tom's prick gave a little jump. He scolded himself silently for the arousal that had bubbled up into his loins. It was Jean, that was all. He could never stay soft around her when she was nude, whether or not some other bastard was running his dirty little fingers all over her and suckling her breasts as if they were his property.
After a few minutes, they stood up and White directed her to disrobe him. She matter-of-factly pulled his shirt and pants off. He pushed her to her knees while she pulled the waistband of his tented boxers. White gave Jean her next command once his fully erect member came into view. She wrapped her breasts around it and stroked up and down.
"It's hard to find a pair that'll give you a real quality titfuck, eh?" White said. "I bet you love doing this to guys, don't you, Jean?"
"Y-yes," she stuttered.
"You don't have to answer him, Jean," said Tom.
"Your wife just wanted to be polite, right, Jean? I know you'd rather not be getting me off right now. I want you to be open and honest about what you're thinking and feeling from now on, okay?" White stroked her hair and Jean froze for a moment as if in a trance, then resumed squeezing her breasts around his cock. "What do you think, Jean?"
"You're a sick, twisted motherfucker who takes advantage of whoever you can. I wanna cut that gross little dick of yours off!" She paused. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry, I can't believe I just said that. You...you'll still give us the money, right?"
White smiled. "It's okay, Jean. I told you to be honest, so you were. That's all I wanted, I don't need you to act for me. All right, why don't we get you ready for the main event."
White and Jean sat on the edge of the bed, then White looked over at Tom, who was festering in the corner. "Hey, we can play together for a little bit. Come sit on the bed."
Tom did so cautiously, wondering what White was scheming. White continued to give instructions: "I'll work on her lips while you rub her clit. Now, take her panties off and spread her legs for me." Tom played along again, moved next to Jean, and pulled her panties down to her knees. White took them the rest of the way and threw them on the floor as Tom pried his wife's legs apart. Fingers ran over her skin and darted toward her pussy, each one following White's instructions.
"How does it feel to have two men working on you at once?" asked White.
"You're not gonna get me off, White. Pieces of shit like you don't get me wet. It'll be like fucking sandpaper and you'll wonder why you spent so much money for it."
Tom smiled at how mouthy Jean had become. Of course, it didn't help White's cause that Tom had been keeping his fingers as far away from Jean's clit as possible without being noticed.
"That's because Mr. Amateur over here doesn't know how to please a girl. If you want something done right...." White removed Tom's hand, then thrust his head in between her legs and lapped at her lips. She gave a quiet grunt of surprise as his tongue swirled around her clit. Her head pressed hard into Tom's leg. White's thrusts intensified in tandem with Jean's moans. Wetness spread across her lips.
"No, stop," Jean whispered. Redness crept across her face – she had vowed not to enjoy this. But this Mr. White seemed to know just what turned her on, as if he had been her lover for ages.
"Don't you enjoy sex, honey? Don't you love when a man brings you to heaven with his tongue?"
"I made a promise – to Tom and myself – I wouldn't feel anything, and I definitely wouldn't cum."
"Jean—" Tom snapped in surprise.
"Oh, sorry, I don't why I told him that, I just keep—" her sentence was cut off by another groan.
"Sex is to be enjoyed, Jean. I think you should reconsider that promise." White resumed licking after he was done speaking.
Jean grabbed Tom's hand and squeezed. "We'll make it through this. It'll be all over soon." Tom stared at her face in his lap, looking with horror at the effect White was having on her. She was getting more and more aroused. It felt as if she were experiencing true sexual pleasure for the first time. Whatever White was doing to her produced the most intense feeling she had ever experienced. Holding back was becoming more difficult by the second. All the signs pointed in the same direction – her nipples stood all the way out, her skin was flushed, and her moaning was only getting louder. It wouldn't be long.
"Please, stop," she tried to plea. Her words were now punctuated with breathy sighs. "I'm wet enough to fuck. Just don't make me break my promise. Don't make me cum."
"Yes, that's it. Let us know what you're thinking," White said.
Jean squirmed around in her husband's lap, still begging. Some sort of ominous feeling took hold of her and she shivered. She couldn't tell what, but she began to feel that something terrible would happen if she gave in. It seemed as if the more aroused she became, the more she wanted to do exactly as White said. And White had already somehow made her think out loud. Something wasn't right here. It wasn't just about the promise, it was fear of what White intended, and what he could do.
"Please, don't make me cum. I'm a good girl. I love my husband. Please don't make me cum!"
