Editor's note: this submission contains scenes of gay male sexual content.
*
In an unusual stroke of luck for me, Stacey's phone rang.
Ivan glared at her and said, "Leave it."
Stacey looked at her phone, told Ivan it was Adrian calling, and answered it. Ivan allowed Stacey to talk to Adrian for a few moments, while he glared at me.
Finally, Stacey said, "I will hand you over to Ivan, you can tell him yourself."
I presume Adrian told Ivan to head home, because Ivan gave Adrian an approximate ETA, and a few minutes later we were loading the limousine.
"You can stay dressed as a bitch for the ride home," Ivan ordered me.
I made no attempt to argue with him. It was going to be embarrassing, driving two hundred miles dressed as a schoolgirl, as I knew everyone checks out limousines on the freeway, but I obeyed Ivan without question.
Stacey was going to drive her car home, and I would drive Ivan and Svetlana in the limousine. At least I would be safe up front in the driver's compartment, or so I thought. Svetlana upturned those plans.
"Ivan, I can drive the limousine, if you want to have a heart to heart with Chrissy," she offered. "I have the required chauffeur's license, and I am on Adrian's insurance policy as a named driver."
"Great idea Svetlana. I could use three hours alone with Chrissy," Ivan said pleasantly. "Maybe we can get to the bottom of the lipgloss inconsistency. Thank you, sweet girl."
Svetlana smiled sweetly at Ivan, and continued her own line of questioning about the missing lipgloss.
"I only ever completely remove my lipgloss before bed, or to eat something," she mused. "Did Chrissy eat anything that you know of?"
It hit Ivan and I at the same time. The croissants! I must have inadvertently wiped my lipgloss off, eating those flaky croissants. I remembered using a paper towel to wipe the pastry flakes from my lips, after each bite. Ivan hit the trash can, at almost the same exact moment, that I realized my fuck-up. He emerged with a used paper towel covered in pink lipgloss and croissant flakes, and waved it angrily in my face.
"Are you telling me that in the middle of our fuck-fest, I allowed you to take a croissant break?" he shouted at me.
"Ivan," I confessed immediately, "I fabricated the whole sexual encounter. You passed out before anything happened. I posed you in different positions, so that you appeared coherent. We didn't have any copulation, oral or anal."
"Anything else?" he growled angrily.
I looked at Stacey, and she shook her head, as if willing me not to say anymore. A quick glance at Svetlana, and I knew she had already told Ivan.
So, I blurted it out. "I switched the piss in the bowl with Bud Light, Ivan," I admitted fearfully.