16th October 2020
The thrumming at Aoife's clit from her favourite vibrator caused her to moan in time with the hentai video she was playing. She'd finally managed to get back to her own room at some ungodly hour the night before and knew it was going to be the same again once she headed back down to work, so even a little bit of snatched release was the best she was going to manage. To say her job had been shit recently would be the king of all understatements. Technically she'd been brought on as a studio engineer, simple, keep the cameras ticking over and the lights from blinding any of the talent. But as the pandemic wore on and everyone's job description added a dozen extra lines, she'd found herself somehow in charge of almost every piece of broadcast equipment on site and a reputation as being the person to go to whenever any of Palisade Service's bullshit hardware broke. And it did break. Infuriatingly frequently. It often felt like she was being punished for their incompetence.
If she was being honest with herself, the Scottish woman hated being back here in her own room. She liked things organised, hell, she could practically edge herself to good cable management, and the mess in here was starting to really stress her out. A cartoon cat looked up, crumpled and accusatory, from a shirt at the top of the laundry pile, stacked up on the mound of washed out jeans and figure-hiding hoodies that seemed to be colonising the corner of the room. Almost as much of a priority to deal with as the bin full of empty energy drinks or the unattended smudge of green hair dye she'd spilled across the bathroom counter last sunday.
She'd made a real effort at first, framed pictures of her with her folks and sisters, an old Dario Argento movie poster from home, her favourite Bulbasaur plush that was currently languishing somewhere next to the bed, but it had all ended up feeling fucked just as quickly as the world did and the thought of finding the time to sort things out made her want to cry. Besides, it made working easier when this was a place she avoided for everything apart from sleeping and masturbating, and even then the former as little as possible and the latter nowhere near as often as she needed.
At least the porn was an old reliable favourite; cheesy, undemanding, and the girls getting railed by tentacles always seemed far more satisfied by the end than any boyfriend had managed to leave her. Who could blame her for fantasising about sex so nasty you couldn't think afterwards? All she did was over-think right now. And if anyone actually wanted that argument, well, she had an 18 month dry spell to show them along with a lot of choice words.
Knowing her favourite part of the scene was coming up, where the two girls started to make out with each other, she worked a hand up her top to find one of the rings piercing her nipples, tugging and teasing at the generous heft of her chest.
She was definitely, absolutely, 100% straight. Maybe 90%...ok, fine, 80% max on a good day, but she was gravitating hard away from anything with a dick in it right now. For the last month or more that somehow always led her thoughts back to Ethan, imagining him in situations with her that always left a nasty stain of shame and guilt that took her a few days to wash away. She hated knowing nothing was going to happen there, that he wasn't actually interested, that he was just nice like that with everyone. She knew she was just pathetically lonely and latching on to anyone who made her feel good about herself. And she would genuinely go insane locked up here if she drove him away and lost the one bit of real social contact she had. But even then she'd still imagine him pushing her down, his tall frame looming over her and...
Fucking prick. Why did he have to give her a crush and ruin porn for her!
So for now she was sticking to cartoon lesbians getting their holes filled by monsters that definitely weren't Englishmen with dirty blonde hair and goofy smiles that made her heart hurt.
She closed her eyes, climbing closer. It didn't matter that she didn't speak Japanese, she had memorised enough of the subtitles accompanying the moans and cries coming from her speaker by now that it didn't matter, each frame of porn there in her mind's eye for her anyway. Her toy thrummed her towards her peak, thighs drawing together as her muscles tensed. Aoife closed her eyes, groped at her piercings, pushed herself just that touch further towards the edge and...
Her phone rang. Not her personal one but the direct Palisade Services device she had that was for work emergencies only, the one that went off far too often and that she currently wanted to throw against the wall. She screamed with frustration, gratification well and truly aborted, hurling her vibrator to the end of the bed as she snatched up the phone.
"This better be fucking good!"
*****
"You weren't expecting me to do this, were you?"
The camera's recording light remained cheerfully illuminated, as it had been for the last half hour as Nia spoke into it, only just vocalising now what Ethan had been thinking the whole time they talked.
They had fucked several more times before his exhaustion had finally decided for them that they'd had enough. Nia had asserted herself over Evie and pushed Ethan to assert himself over both of them, something that had been a wonderfully easy fit. But even so Ethan had found himself struggling to commit fully to it at times, with the role he was expected to play bumping up against the lingering misgivings over the vaccine's inherent power dynamics. And he'd more than half expect to wake up to one, or both, of the women expecting him to get straight back to where they had left off.
Instead he'd found a worn out Evie and the neat curls of a handwritten note from Nia explaining that he should bring the camera and meet her on the smaller, more secluded, rear terrace when he was ready. It was still just barely warm enough most days to enjoy sitting outside and he found her at a table that had belonged to the spa's bistro, along with a tray of breakfast and coffee, backdropped by the autumnal colours of turning trees.
"I hadn't expected it, no," he replied, finishing off a pastry. Nia liking the idea of getting footage they could decide to work with hadn't surprised him. That she would be willing to participate herself had, even if she had reasoned that nothing had to be shared with anyone if she didn't want it to be.
"Although I'm getting the feeling you find the structure it brings helpful."
The statement was astute enough to give Nia pause to consider it. "Yes, I suppose I do. Everything about this has the potential to feel very much like we're being swept along, and I think doing something like this just gives me a sense of being able to impose myself on the situation." Someone once told Ethan he thought in metaphors far too much, but Nia talking about being swept along was a good one, and he found himself picturing them both standing in a river being pulled out into a distance they couldn't see.
"The camera gives you permission to open up?"