11. Georgia
Chapter 11
Georgia
H oly shit. I'm doing this . I tried to remind myself to breathe as I walked into Unit 2, my bag clutched close to me like a security blanket. Now that I had walked into his house, this time not in a towel or thinking he was getting murdered, I allowed myself to look around. It was still modern and upscale, and the wood floors looked like they had been resurfaced, unlike mine, which I hid under rugs to cover up the scratches and peeling sealant.
"You want anything to drink?" He asks, opening the cabinet and grabbing two wine glasses. I had spied the wine cabinet when I had walked in; I didn't usually indulge, but right now? Absolutely.
"Sure, a red if you have it." I tried to sound casual, like I did this every day. Want to have sex on camera for money so I can pay for my elderly grandmother's care? Cool, fuck the glass. Just give me the bottle. Jesus Christ.
"So you met with Nat?" He asked, setting the glass down on the dining room table and gesturing for me to sit. Sitting down I all but grabbed the glass of wine like a lifeline and took a sip. Damn, this tasted expensive.
"We met yesterday.” I offered, trying not to pick at the hem of my sweater. I was keenly aware that I smelled like coffee beans and the chilly night air, my Hemingway's hoodie had a stain from God knows what and the wind had tousled my braid. I instantly felt like I should have waited, maybe even showered before this very vulnerable conversation.
To be fair, Quinn did see me with an old beach towel and raccoon eyes, so maybe this was just a me thing.
"Natalie mentioned that you like to have a conversation about boundaries and that there was paperwork. I brought over my last testing paperwork, by the way." I awkwardly shoved it over to him, and my nerves spiked. "I also have an IUD. I still have four years left on it."
Quinn took a healthy sip of his wine before looking over the paperwork until he frowned, a deep line creasing between his brows as he looked over my medical records.
"You sure this is the right one?" He asked, turning it over as if to see if there was another sheet behind it.
"Yeah, why? Is it missing something?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious at whatever he was seeing on my file. Did I miss something? Do I have an STD I just didn't know about? No, stop it, Georgia, that's ridiculous.
He shook his head and set them down, looking at me perplexed. "No, it's just dated over a year and a half ago. I usually like to have the newest testing results after the last date of, you know, intimacy. For safety's sake."
Oh. Fuck. I flushed scarlet and took a long gulp of the wine, wincing as it burned going down. "Yeah, so that would be current."
Quinn looked at me even more perplexed than he had a moment ago, leaning on the table and looking at me hard as if he was trying to decide whether I was lying. "Are you saying you haven't been sexually active with anyone in over a year and a half?"
I nodded, praying for a sinkhole to open up underneath me. Those still happened, right? Were there mines on the east coast?
He lowered his chin, looking me dead in the eye. "Nothing? Oral, nothing?"
"Nope," I popped the p sound and folded my hands on the table in front of me, wishing he would stop studying me so hard because those were the same eyes I had looked at on my phone while I’d fucked myself with a vibrator for the past year. "I can get another test if you want. It's really no big deal?—"
He just held up his hands as if in surrender. "No, I believe you. Um, here's mine." He set down a stack of paperwork in a neat manila envelope in front of me, dated and tabbed for the last six years.
"Oh, um, thanks?" I said, taking the folder and opening it to the first one. I scanned it, trying to take it in while he sipped his wine across the table from me. Like he said, a clean bill of health. I even went so far as to flip back a few more pages, which showed he never seemed to have had any sexual health-related issues. "Impressive," I all but squeaked as I handed it back to him.
He quirked a smile as he set them in a black briefcase,."I told you I take my health seriously. Especially in this industry."
Quinn leaned forward suddenly, all business. "And I want to make something really clear, Clark. Anytime you decide you don't want to do this anymore, it's done. Anytime we're filming a scene and you start to feel uncomfortable? I stop. I'm big on communication and I am very picky with who I film with." He took another sip from his glass.
I nodded, mouth suddenly dry. "Why did you pick me then? It's not like we're very…close."
He didn't look away from me as he said, "Because I think you'd have just as much to lose as I would if you told anyone my secret."
I was quiet, his words settling over me. I raised my glass, "To mutually assured destruction?" A smile spread over his face, meeting his dark eyes as he raised his glass to click mine.
"To mutually assured destruction, Clark."
Quinn sent me home with his contract, just an NDA and filming agreement— homework , he had called it. The homework included a page labeled "Boundaries" in bold print, and my eyes widened as I saw the list of different sexual acts with three boxes next to each one: yes , no , or maybe .
There were things I didn’t even know had names. I shooed Hannah off of the chair and grabbed a blanket; the apartment was chilly, and I reminded myself to stuff some towels at the base of the windows soon. Taking a deep breath and grabbing the tea I had made myself as soon as I had gotten home, I tried to chase the chill of the fall night away without raising my thermostat.
The first paper was a standard NDA, which was no big deal as he was also signing one for me. The filming agreement took me a moment to get through; it seemed a pretty standard release of my likeness. I also had access to the files before posting to the hosting website, just to make sure I was all alright with the content and the editing, which he did himself. He said this just cut out more people knowing about him and his work, and I appreciated that. I signed and dated it.
I took a healthy gulp of my now-lukewarm tea to look over the paper that gave me the most pause because it was probably the most important one there was.
Oral (giving and receiving). I checked yes for both.
Penetrative sex (vaginal). I swallowed and checked yes .
Penetrative sex (anal). My mouth went dry, and I clicked my pen over and over a few times before checking maybe . That was the most hesitantly drawn check mark I had ever seen in my entire life.
Choking. Yes .
Edging. Yes .
Bondage/Restraints. Jesus Christ. I checked yes as my stomach fluttered.
Spanking. I blew out a breath and saw Hannah look over at me, and I covered the paper just in case the thirteen-year-old cat could read. I checked y es .
Fisting. That was the first one on which I immediately checked no . Okay, see , I had boundaries.
Fingering. I checked yes .
Toys . That one had me intrigued, so I checked yes with the addition of a small note that said, "Depends on what kind?"
There was a line on which I could add anything I wanted to share, which I left blank. No thanks, I was leaving that up to the professionals. My phone vibrated against my leg, showing a test from a number I had saved simply as "Unit 2."
Unit 2: I know you said you never subscribed, so here are my videos. Look through them so you can see how Natalie and I worked together. Also, if you want a name that I can use on camera, think of one you like.
Me: Wait, how did you pick your name?
Typing…
Unit 2: It's actually my middle name. I was young and not very creative at the time.
Me: Your name is Sebastian Wolfe Quinn? What are you, an 18th-century composer?
Unit 2: I'll let you know that my mom was a big classic music fan.
Me: What, no Amadeus?
Unit 2: I said a music fan, not cruel!
I laugh-reacted to the text and before I could reply, a link appeared.
It sat blue and underlined, guiding me to a password-protected media storage site. A message containing the password followed in an instant. I bit my lip and looked towards the door as if someone was sitting out there waiting for me to watch some lurid pornography that would make my ancestors roll in their graves.
With a deep breath, I clicked the link again, delicately typing out the password like I was touching the nuclear codes instead of some guy's homemade porn videos. The site opened to a media backlog just like any other, and I picked through the years by which he’d cataloged his work. Honestly, the organization impressed me more than anything. I picked the current year because I didn’t think I could sit through six years of cam footage. Even I had my limits.
I started in January. This video was the first full footage I had seen that wasn't a simple two-minute clip; this was the kind he made money off of. It felt weird, after sitting at his kitchen table and having a glass of wine with him, to now be watching these. He was no longer a masked man, Wolfe. No, this was Sebastian Wolfe Quinn. That did something to my stomach that I didn't have the fortitude to dissect at this minute, so I clicked on the video.
The red lights gave a moody and sexual overture; there was no music like on his social media but rather the rough sound of his breathing coming through the black-knit mask. My mouth was dry as I fumbled for my headphones, throwing them over my head quickly and tucking my knees under me as the video started.
It only took me a minute to get that butterfly feeling in my stomach as soon as he came on the screen. Despite knowing who he was in real life, this? This was Wolfe. I watched as the video began with him turned away from the camera, exposing his muscled back with its large black-and-white tattoo that spanned the plane of his broad shoulders. His curled dark hair looked like he had just washed it as Quinn pulled the dark mask over his head before turning to face the camera, with only his amber eyes and thick, dark lashes visible. He was already shirtless, and I tilted my head when I realized his muscles seemed even more pronounced and glistening.
Did he use oil or something? It made me giggle a bit to think of Quinn in the bathroom rubbing his abdomen with baby oil. I stopped laughing and cleared my throat as that thought did…other things to me besides making me laugh.
"Do you want me on my knees?" came the deep, gruff voice of Wolfe, and I nearly nodded as he slammed down, his eyes never leaving the camera. It was like he was looking right at me. His large hand trailed down to where his cock strained against grey sweatpants and ran his fingers over the bulge there.
"Fuck, you're doing so good for me, baby." I shouldn't have taken a sip of tea at that moment. The lighting changed. The red behind him was the one light casting shadows off of his body and dipping into the planes of his muscles. His chest heaved as the microphone caught his breath hitching as he released his cock from its confines, sighing as if it was a relief. And fuck, it might have been. I know I had only been with one man before, but his dick did not look like that. It was not that big or, fuck , that thick.
"You want me inside of you, baby?" came his voice again, still staring dead at the camera, eye-fucking it while he fisted his cock, a bead of precum glistening at the tip as he leaned his head back. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, the rasp of his uneven breaths doing almost as much the visual stimulation. "Fuck, you're so hot, I'm so close," he whispered before pushing up the mask to the bridge of his sharp nose and fucking whimpering.
I felt the tingling in my groin, and I pressed my hand on my stomach as if doing so would stop the way it made my insides feel. Fuck.
"That's, my good girl; spread your legs. Let me see that pussy while I cum all over myself." Jesus Christ, if there was a hell, I was headed there because, god damn, if I didn't almost cum right then and there. God, this man was a pro at dirty talk, and before I started really looking into pornography, I didn't even know I was into it. Dylan would grunt into my ear for about two to three minutes and then ask, "Did you cum?" after he had already rolled off me.
I would lie and wait until his snores filled the room before I would plunge my hand down my panties and finish the job myself. I was so deep in thought I almost missed the way Wolfe’s muscles tensed before he came. The bark of a groan slipped from his full lips as he climaxed.
"Did you cum like my good girl?"
I quickly locked my phone screen, red-faced as I all but darted to my room, shutting off lights as I went and filling Hannah's bowl so I would have a bit of privacy for just a moment or two.
I slipped underneath my covers, the only light illuminating the room coming from my phone as I hovered over a few other videos until I found a few with Natalie. That’s honestly what I needed to be researching—if I returned those papers after doing this little "homework," then it would be me in her place.
Red lights again, but I could make out a few pieces of his room that I’d seen when I went into his house; the painting above the bed was out of focus, but I recognized it and the grey bedspread behind him on the king-size bed. I skipped forward until I saw Natalie, her pale skin melting into black panties and a matching bralette with a plunging lift that gave the camera a view of her cleavage. But this wasn't just a fan service for men—it was for women. For our fantasy.
No lacy, uncomfortable garments, just soft cotton underwear that reached over her hips, which Wolfe was currently kissing and licking his way towards. She had her hands woven over the mask as if she was guiding him down to her core, her head thrown back but unrecognizable with a black handkerchief tied around the lower half of her face, only showing off dark brown brows and carefully set eyelashes. It took me a moment to realize she had lined her brows deep brown; when I had met her for coffee, her brows were a soft blond that matched her hair and wasn't at all so sharp and defined as the woman she was playing in the video. It was all a part of her disguise.
"Stop teasing me," the woman I knew as Natalie groaned as Wolfe's masked face buried itself in her clothed cunt. A smack resounded so loudly that I jumped a bit, his hand coming to slap the side of her ass that was available to him. "I'll tell you when you can cum, princess." And with that, he flipped their bodies so that he was underneath her while she straddled his straining cock. Fingers stroked up and down her stomach as she breathed heavier and he pushed aside her bra.
"A little help?" he teased, his head tilting up towards her. Her eyes crinkled in what must have been a smile as she took her delicately painted fingers and rolled the mask to the bridge of his nose, exposing his mouth and sharp jawline that was peppered with a five o'clock shadow. Wolfe licked and sucked at her breast as Natalie whined underneath her mask, her blond hair spilling behind her as he paid the other one just the same attention.
"Please, Wolfe, please," She begged, grinding down on him, her hips rolling. Did my hips even do that? With the mask folded up, I was treated to the view of Wolfe grinning devilishly as he lay back, reclining on his pillows while his fingers dug into her thighs. Another smack on her ass had her gasping as she arched away from the impact, grinding herself harder onto him.
"Up." He demanded roughly, and she dropped to all fours over him, crawling until she was at the headboard. Like she weighed nothing, he lifted her until she kneeled and hovered over his face.
"You don't like these panties, right, Princess?" he murmured, and even though I could barely see him at this angle, the microphone was picking up his voice just right. Natalie shook her head, and something gleamed in his hand, cutting through the soft cotton of her underwear. Something jolted in my stomach: arousal and fear. Was that a knife? He tossed the ruined garment aside and settled his fingers deep into the dip of her hips, urging her to sit. A transition came at that moment, and the camera angle switched to a point above Wolfe's head, his amber eyes looking straight into the camera as grabbed her ass and licked a long, lurid path from her slit to her clit, his eyes closing in sheer pleasure as she moaned off camera.
Fuck, my panties were soaked. My mouth was dry and my stomach flipped as Wolfe once again opened his eyes and devoured her. Her pants and cries only seemed to spurn him on as he tilted his head back at a better angle—for him and the camera—and proceeded to tongue fuck her while she wiggled above him.
I didn't care if it was weird now that he was my next-door neighbor or that I had drank his wine and could still taste it on my tongue as I dragged my vibrator out of its drawer with trembling hands. I didn't want this battery-powered thing; I wanted Wolfe's hands on me, his tongue on my clit. But this would do for now.
I pressed the button on the purple device, shucking off my underwear as quickly as I could, tossing them off the bed as I positioned the phone next to me on the pillow. I had missed something pivotal in the plot of this, but really, the plot was just them switching positions as he drove into her from behind. She was stretched around him almost painfully, her grunts and whines saying it was pleasurable, but fuck , could I do that?
I didn't wait to think about logistics as I positioned the vibrator on my clit, biting my lip to muffle the groan of pure pleasure that it sent coursing through me. But it wasn't enough, as I watched Wolfe slowly pull out and sink back into her while she let out a string of curses. Groaning in desperation, I pushed the vibrator inside of me, thinking of Wolfe filling that space instead. Of filling me up and making me cry his name as he barely had to touch my clit to push me over the edge.
The video was still going, a string of obscene moans and curses filling my ears as I quickly threw off my headphones and withdrew my vibrator without having felt satisfied. Pulling my pillow over my face, I screamed into it.