10. SHANE
10
SHANE
P ulling the old balaclava hood over my face, I position it so I can just about see through the two holes for eyes. The mask was packed away in my army duffel, but as I wait impatiently for Lilly’s nine-o’clock live, I thought I’d best wear it as a precaution. If she was to see the real me, it’s game over.
It’s one thing to be open with a stranger, but when it’s someone you know, you’re more vulnerable.
I was telling the truth when I said I want her to keep her clothes on. I may be hard as a fucking baton when she’s on screen, but I’m trying to do the right thing here. Over the years, I’ve always tried to be the big brother she never had. Even if I am a twisted fuck.
As the screen comes alive with a loading symbol, I pull on the black leather gloves and curse myself for having so many fucking tattoos. Tugging my long black sleeves under the gloves, I check there're no markings on display that would give me away.
The loading bar disappears. Her beautiful face fills the pop-up window on my iMac. With a click of the mouse, I make her full screen. A small square in the bottom shows my waist, grey joggers and a tight black gym top with long sleeves.
“Hi, so nice to see your torso again.” She giggles at her joke, waving a hand in front of the screen.
I can’t help the rumble of laughter that comes out of me, but even after a hard day at work, seeing her just lifts my spirits and my dick.
Her teeth bite into the red gloss, coating her plump lips as if taking a bite of a juicy apple. If it weren't for the cheap nurse outfit, she’d look as deadly as a femme fatale from an old gangster movie with her long, glossy black hair hanging in waves around her face.
“It’s nice to see you, too, nightingale.” I keep my voice low and deep. Making sure it’s controlled and as monotone as possible.
“Nightingale?” Her eyebrows pinch, but her smile tells me she likes her pet name. I can hardly call her trouble, the name I’ve given her since she was seven years old. Even though she causes me more trouble now than she ever has.
I'm no stranger to sleepless nights, but now it’s her on my mind. Wanting something you can’t have is torturous. I’d kill for one night to bury myself inside her, worship those luscious curves and fleshy hips that I could squeeze, imprint my fingers in while she rode my cock. Kane’s a lucky bastard to have had her at his beck and call. If he wasn’t like a brother to me, I’d have sent him packing long ago.
“You’re a nurse, aren’t you?” I point to the screen, gesturing at her outfit. “Though I doubt Florence ever wore anything as provocative as that.”
She looks down at her chest bursting out of the white dress, the zip at her cleavage taut. A blush paints her chest, but ends at her neck. She’s covered in her usual makeup that makes her skin look flawless. But I don’t need perfection. I just need her. And whatever the truth is behind all this. If she’s in trouble, talking to her like this is the only way I’m going to find out.
“You didn’t have to dress up in that for me.” I lean back in the office chair in my small room, check she can’t see past my chest, and lift the mask over my nose. The only light is from the computer screen and the zippo as I light up a cigarette, making sure she doesn’t see the brand I smoke. I wasn’t going to smoke in front of her, but I need a nicotine hit to calm my nerves. This is so fucking wrong, but I’ve thought about nothing else all day.
“Don’t you like this outfit? I thought you’d prefer it to just my underwear, seeing as you told me to keep my clothes on, but I can take it off if you prefer.” She tugs the zip down and her tits, covered in black lace, spill out.
“Stop.” The word was more aggressive than I intended. I try to look away, but my eyes are laser focused on the screen. I should tell her to cover up, but the chub is now as hard as a taser gun, twitching in my joggers.
She freezes on screen. “I’m sorry. I thought?—”
“Don’t be sorry.” I take another pull on the cigarette and lean back in the chair again, admiring the woman in front of me. “All I meant is that I hate that cheap costume. It’s not good enough for you.”
“Do you want me to take it off and put something else on?” Her fingers hover over the zip, waiting for my instruction like a good submissive would.
“I want you to be comfortable on our calls. So I want you to wear whatever you feel comfortable in. If you weren’t live right now, what would you be wearing?” My tongue runs along my chipped tooth before I inhale another drag of nicotine. Every muscle in my body burns. My dick wills my mind to tell her to strip already. And I want to. I really fucking want to.
She bites her lip, the skin pinching in the gap between her two front teeth. When she does that, all I can think about is what those teeth will feel like scraping against my shaft.
“I’d probably just wear my pyjamas.” Her manicured nail taps against her teeth.
“I thought you said you slept naked?” My lips lift into a massive grin as if I have just won the lottery.
“I just said that to sound sexy.” Her lips curve into a smile as wide as my own.
“You don’t have to sound sexy with me. I think you’re a goddess, whether you’re clothed or not. Change into your pyjamas. I want you to feel comfortable.”
“Do you want me to change here or go off camera?”
Off camera. Say off camera, damnit. “Here.” I’m going to hell.
“Okay.” She bends over as if fumbling in her drawers.
“Okay, what?” I say as the smoke curls from my lips. I may as well go full sergeant on her now I’ve committed to watching her strip.
Her head snaps back up to the camera. “Okay, sir.”
“Good girl. Now change into your night clothes for me.” I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and pull the mask down over my face so I can lean on the desk close to the monitor.
I don’t miss the way her mouth parts when I say good girl, or how her chest rises and falls with panting breaths. She stands in front of the camera in the small space she has between her set of drawers and bed. I know how cramped it is from when I fixed her bed frame.
She tugs at the zip, pulling it over her belly where the fabric stretches across her soft curves. When the zip reaches the end, the dress springs back at either side, her full body on display in nothing but black lace knickers and bra. Now she looks like the classy femme fatale I was talking about. A woman so dangerous she could ruin me with those sinful curves.
She discards the dress, then with her pyjamas in hand, sits back on the bed. Her round belly covers the lace between her thighs. I want to run my finger along the creases where her waist meets her hips and the deep crease where her hip meets her thigh.
I shuffle in my seat, leaning back and getting comfortable as I enjoy this little show. Creaking leather pulls her attention back to the screen.
Her eyes drift down and a smile pushes her cheeks up, showing me the dimple I love.
“Something funny?”
She unfolds her pyjamas. “For someone who wanted me to keep my clothes on, you clearly like what you see.” She raises a perfectly shaped brow as she nods at the tent in my grey joggers.
“You’re delicious. How could I not like what I see?” I reach down and slip my hand under the waistband to adjust my dick. I don’t want her getting distracted.
Her mouth parts. Her two front teeth rest on her lip and instead of adjusting my dick, I find myself fisting it.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she reaches around her back and unclips her bra. The black straps drape down her arms before she pulls it away at the front.
Two deep pink ripe cherries stare back at me, begging to be sucked. She circles one of the peaks with her finger. “Would you like me to touch myself too, sir?”
I’m gonna need something stronger than nicotine. I can’t form any words. I just gaze at her finger circling her nipple, her soothing voice hypnotising me like a siren putting me under her spell.
After a beat too long, I croak out, “Do you want to touch yourself?”
She smiles. “If you are, I think it’s only fair that you allow me to do the same, don’t you, sir?”
I lean closer to the computer, my mask coming into view.
She gasps. “Hey there. That’s not creepy at all.”
I chuckle. “Was that sarcasm?”
“No, sir.” The cheeky dimple on her cheek winks at me. How I’d love to spin her around and smack that big ass, take a bite out of it, dig my fingers into all those delicious creases.
“Stop being a troublesome brat and show me how you touch yourself.” The mask hides a sheen of sweat on my face amongst a multitude of sins. This isn’t me. The last time I watched porn was in the army, and even then it was for a laugh with the lads. It’s never been something I’ve done to get off. The fakeness of it all is meaningless. But watching Lilly hits different. My balls draw up so damn tight. My stomach burns from tension. I need a release.
“Yes, sir.” With one hand, she props herself up on the bed as she leans her body backwards. Her other hand slips behind the lace of her knickers. She widens her legs on the corner of the bed. The same corner I fixed. Her hand disappears further inside her lace knickers, and she moans. Her tits bounce as she rubs her hand beneath the lace. It’s more sexy than if she were completely naked, but I’ve seen enough porn to know it’s not real. She’s a good actress, but I can tell by her face she’s putting on a show for me.
“Are you wet, baby?” I say, almost annoyed, knowing she’s playing up to the camera.
“Yes.” She bounces again, moaning and fondling herself under the lace. “Yes, sir. You make me so wet.”
A chuckle leaves my lips. I’m almost glad that this is what she does. That nobody else has seen her come. “All right, nightingale. You can stop the show. This ain’t no theatrical audition.”
Her eyes flick back to the screen, and she pulls her hand from her knickers. “What do you mean? I thought?—”
“Did you really think you could fool me with that shit? I hate to break it to you, baby, but you’re not that good of an actress.”
“You asshole.” She picks her pyjama top off the bed and yanks it over her head. It’s a bright yellow top with a cartoon character on the front, reminding me of the little girl I used to know. Fuck, I am an asshole. A sick, twisted fucking asshole.
“Stop your huffing and put your bottoms on, then we can talk.” I pull my hand from my joggers, my dick going soft at the realisation that this is the same little girl I used to lift onto my shoulders so she could see the stage at the local summer music festival. The same girl I used to buy sweets for when I returned from tours. And the same girl I tucked into bed and read a story the night after her father passed away.
She pulls her knickers off, but keeps her legs together, her thick thighs and belly hiding any chance of a glimpse of her pussy before she pulls her shorts on. “If I’m such a crap actress, why did you want to pay me for a month?”
“I told you, I just want to talk.” Sickness coats my mouth. A bitter taste that I swallow and light up another cigarette.
She sits on the edge of the bed in her yellow shorts and t-shirt, looking more vulnerable than she did a moment ago. As if the act was her mask and armour and now she’s just herself in her bedroom. “What do you want to talk about?” she says in a huff as she crosses her arms.
“I just want to talk about your day.” Flicking the ash in the tray, I lean closer but keep my head from view while I have the mask rolled up. “But let me make one thing clear. I don’t want you faking any of that shit with me. You hear?”
“Yes.” Her eyes roll, and she looks away from the camera, a blush creeping up her neck.
“Yes, what?”
She stares into the camera. “Yes, sir.”
“When you touch yourself, I want it to be real. If you don’t want to touch yourself. Don’t. You don’t need to pretend because you think it’s what I want.” I pull the mask back over my mouth and put my head in the frame. “I want you to be yourself. Be real and honest with me. No lies, or I’ll know. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” She clasps her hands together and rests them on her inked thighs.
I lean back in the chair, lifting the mask to take another drag. I should get one with a hole for the mouth, but then she might notice my chipped tooth. Fuck. There isn’t a damn thing unrecognisable about me. “Tell me about your day, nightingale.”
“I was just at work. It was uneventful, really.” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, looking around as if she’s bored with this conversation already.
“Do you work in A&E or on a ward?” I clear my throat. “I’m assuming you’re a nurse in real life and not just for your subscribers.”
“Yes, I work at the hospital. I’m currently on a ward while I’m training. I do A&E occasionally for insight days.” She looks down, fiddling with the drawstring on her shorts. “If anyone found out I do this on the side, I could lose my position. It’s against the nursing code of conduct to wear a naughty nurse costume.”
“Then don't wear it again. It doesn't suit you anyway, it's too cheap for you.”
Her cheeks lift with a smile.
“What do you prefer, A&E, or being on a ward?”
“I like it on the ward. You get to know the people better. I think when you know the individual, you can care for them better.” She smiles as if thinking of her patients or her mum. I know she’s a good nurse. She cared for her mum for as long as she could until she went into a care home. “Anyway, what about you? What do you do when you’re not on tour? Besides creep around on social media and hack people’s accounts wearing a freaky mask.”
I let out a low chuckle. I’m glad she’s still sassy with me after our little misunderstanding. “When I'm not on tour, I pretty much just do what you said.”
“Shocker.” She joins in with my chuckle. “So, do you have a range of masks for different days, or do you just stick to the one?” She leans forward, looking closer at the screen as if she might see the parts of me currently out of view.
Stubbing out my cigarette, I give her the full view of me with the mask on. “Just the one for now.”
“It looks really thick and sweaty under there. You know that’s not good for your skin. You’re not letting it breathe.”
“The same could be said for you with all that makeup.”
“I wanted to look my best for you.”
“I told you earlier, you don’t need to get dressed up for me. I want you to be comfortable.”
“Doesn’t the same go for you? You can’t be comfortable wearing that mask.”
She’s right. There’s nothing comfortable about this. But if this is the only way I can get to know what’s going on with her, so be it. And I know it’s wrong on so many levels, but I’m hoping she’ll strip for me again. Only next time I’ll be summoning an orgasm out of her.
A fucking real one.