Chapter 43 Phoenix
Phoenix
The quiet is eerie. I'm so used to Roni marching out to meet me as I reach the top of the stairs. But I don't see her. I don't hear her. And I suppose it's a good thing because I cannot get this nagging feeling out of my head Clark is up to something.
Instead of heading to bed, I make my way across the house to the office.
I don't spend a lot of time in here except for when I'm working.
It's very basic. A couple chairs and a desk.
Like most of the house, the walls are crystal clear.
I can see out over the tree line, right up until the darkness swallows the horizon.
I roll my chair up to my cherry-finished desk, punch in my insanely long passcode, and apply my right ring finger and thumb to the biometric scanner.
My home screen loads and I open the hub which runs the house, setting it to frost all the windows, including the glass surrounding me.
I don't want to be distracted by anything.
I want to exist in my own shell while I go digging.
I'm grab my phone and shoot Vic a text asking him to come to my office. It only takes a moment before I’m buzzing him in.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?” he starts the conversation, as most men of his position do.
“Yes, please. I won't take much of your time. I know it's been a long day. I'm sure you'd like to get some rest.”
“It's no problem, Mr. Phoenix. What can I do for you?” He stands resolute in the doorway, knowing I prefer to keep my distance when my screen is open.
“I noticed you and Roni were together for most of the day. How did it go? What did you do?” I don't want to seem like a possessive husband, but I am. I really fucking am.
“Nothing too exciting, Sir,” he explains. “I drove her to the mall. She went to her favorite shop. The one where she gets most of the outfits for her show.”
“Her show. Is that what we're calling it?” I joke, but don't want to seem too insensitive.
“Mr. Phoenix?”
“It's fine. We can call it what it is. Her porn site.”
“Oh, I don't know if that's what I would call it,” he responds with a rare objection.
“Nevertheless, it's not why you're here. Continue. Anything unusual happen when she went shopping?”
“I don’t think so,” he says. “She spent an absurd amount of time in the fitting room, even for her.”
“Okay. And why does that detail stand out for you?” I’m curious.
“Just that she was in there for so long, I felt it necessary to check on her. So, I accessed the cameras and while she was trying on various outfits, I noticed she was doing something on her phone.”
“On her phone?” I parrot. “Like texting with somebody?” I didn’t get any fucking texts.
“No, I don’t think that was it,” he responds. “But she was fumbling around on her screen quite a bit, and then when we got back, she almost ran into her studio and spent pretty much the rest of the day in there. Then, when she was done—” He hesitates and I catch it.
“When she was done, what?”
“She had this puzzled look on her face when she came out. Like something had gotten to her. I asked her if she was okay and she almost instantly cheered up. Other than that, there’s nothing to report, and I’m not sure that amounts to anything noteworthy.
She went to bed early. I’m sure you noticed she didn’t come out and greet you when you arrived. ”
“That’s okay. That’s to be expected some days. I’ll speak to her when I get a chance tomorrow.”
Sometimes her demons poke their heads out and she goes spiraling. I want to be there to fight them off whenever possible.
Vic is aware of Roni’s history. The time she spent captive at the Abbey.
Merchandise for The Sect to sell. The horrible things they did to her while she was held there.
The events they made her participate in.
But she’s a rock. She survived. Perhaps more shockingly is the lack of an impact it had on her libido.
Yes, it’s different. She struggles with vulnerability.
But her sex drive was unexpectedly amplified by the trauma.
“Do you have any information on the people she’s been communicating with on MostlyFools?
” I ask, and I can tell by the somewhat embarrassed look on Vic’s face he didn’t know I’m aware he’s a patron.
“It’s fine, Vic. We’ve had this conversation.
I trust you. As long as we understand—look, but never touch. ”
“Of course not, sir. More than anything, I try to pay attention to the people who are messaging her. But she’s gotten so popular, it’s hard to track it all.
At this point, I’m not really sure who she’s speaking with.
I don’t have access to her account. I can only see what people comment publicly.
She’s gotten into the habit of taking things into private conversations where I simply don’t have access.
” He sounds uncharacteristically frazzled.
“I appreciate your honesty. Just continue doing what you do. Now, you go home. Exchange reports with the incoming team. And we'll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
I’m not going to be able to let this go.
I know it. I’m too obsessed—too stubborn.
I’m on MostlyFools in a blink. Vic told me a while back Roni goes by @Unhinged.
I didn’t ask him how he knows or why he knows.
But it’s pretty clear to me he likes her show.
It’s fine. I want him watching her when I’m gone.
I track down her profile, open it and scroll through her bio.
She really doesn’t share much information.
Nothing of consequence. Still, the fact I can see her here at all claws at my patience like picking a scab.
There are a ton of photos. I try to click on them, but a pop-up says I must be a dedicated follower. So I sign up.
Within seconds, the profile opens to a much larger page of content. Files and files. Videos and pictures. Many included with the membership and others requiring an additional purchase. I open and download them all.
But the more I look, the less I actually learn.
She’s gorgeous. She has amazing tits. Her thunder thighs and jiggling ass are next-level insane.
There’s nothing here I don’t already know.
I can’t spend all night looking. Besides, the real thing’s right down the hall.
This is so stupid. I don’t know what I was worried about.
I power down my computer and exit my office, locking it with my handprint before sauntering across this oversized, weighty, ridiculously too-big house to our bedroom.
Vic was right. Roni’s already passed out, splayed across as much of our massive bed as she could possibly be.
She’s completely naked, face down with her tits pressed into the mattress.
But her legs spread to take up as much space as possible.
So much I can see the plump wisps of her pussy as she sleeps.
It would be mean to wake her. She’s an angel. My Little Temptress.
I grab the top blanket she’ll never actually use tonight, and curl up on the small sofa on the other side of the room, where I stretch out and watch her breathe peacefully until I finally nod off.