5. Business Card
FIVE
BUSINESS CARD
LYLAH
She left me here.
In her house.
While she’s going to be gone for hours.
What could I get into?
Usually, I’m not one to snoop the first time I’m in someone’s house; that’s more of a second-date activity.
But as I wave from the front door and watch her car disappear into the distance, my mind races.
My body feels undeniably comfortable around her and in her space, despite having just met the woman.
But she’s mysterious, and one thing about me, I’m a nosy bitch .
I turn around and head into her bedroom and the en suite.
That’s where the jet tub is, anyway.
I don’t move to the tub immediately. Nope, I open up her cabinets and look around at all her makeup products and what seems like a thirty-step skincare routine scattered across the counter that probably costs more than a couple of months’ rent for me.
I don’t find much else that’s worth my eyeballs, so I make my way over to the walk-in closet.
A walk-in closet the size of my studio apartment, and fuck, did I hit the jackpot in here.
The whole wall in front of me is covered in lingerie sets from floor to ceiling. It’s more than I’ve ever seen in one place. Even more than those huge sex stores off the sides of the interstate.
What the fuck does she do to be able to afford all this?
Actually… why does she need this much lingerie? I don’t think one human could possibly wear this many pieces, and to my knowledge, she doesn’t even have a partner. Not that you need a partner to wear lingerie, but this amount doesn’t make sense to me if she’s single and sleeping alone.
I walk back into the bedroom with my head spinning, trying to put the pieces together of what all this means, when I see the whole setup.
A tripod beside her dresser with a huge camera on it—a professional camera.
In her bedroom.
Pointed at her bed.
No .
She can’t be…
And like she planned for me to come in here snooping, she has a business card sitting on her nightstand. I snatch it up and scan the QR code on the back faster than I’ve ever scanned anything in my life.
Then my screen is filled with everything my wet dreams are going to be replaying for the near future. I read the page name, and my jaw just about unhinges from my face.
MILKY MAMI: THE MILF YOU CAN ONLY DREAM OF
My finger scrolls instantly, clearly having a mind of its own, and my eyes soak in every picture, video, and caption. Everything on here is just little teasers, so it will pull you in to subscribe. So what do I do?
Subscribe.
Highest tier, of course .
Which means I get access every time she’s live.
What the fuck am I doing?
And why did my pussy immediately react to the thought of her being?—
No, I cannot let my mind go there. It’s bad enough I subscribed to her page, but I had to see everything….
For fuck’s sake, this is my boss I’m looking at, who’s practically naked on my phone. Wearing one of her many lace pieces that I would sure as shit pay money to watch her peel off her gorgeous body.
No .
I can’t.
But…I already paid.
Speed walking back into the kitchen, where I hope my brain will have some space to think away from her bed, her lingerie collection, and not let my cunt lead the way. I flop into one of the cushioned, blush-pink, high-back chairs, letting my head fall onto the back.
My thoughts keep wandering back to her page, and before I know it, my phone’s unlocked again and I’m back down the Milky Mami rabbit hole.
Without even thinking, I stride back into my newly claimed bedroom and am under the covers before I can finish devouring even one of her videos.
So much for snooping, this turned into a full-blown investigation.
I found all I need, including my vibrating friend, and I will be happy as a clam for the next couple of hours.
Rubbing one—no, many—orgasms out to no one other than my hot, older, and definitely off-limits boss.
I must’ve fallen asleep after coming for the fifth time. Honestly, it could’ve been more. I stopped counting after three. It was way too hard to stop. Touching myself to videos of Tatum doing unspeakable things to herself as if the entirety of each video was just for me…
Calm down. We can’t start the cycle again.
I hear some clanking and movement coming from what I can assume is the kitchen, which must’ve been what woke me from my slumber. I find my discarded phone under the covers, tapping it on and seeing that it’s already almost midnight.
Fuck, I slept for a while.
Padding into the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time today, I see Tatum’s tall, lush frame reaching for the wineglass in the cabinet. As she places it on the counter, I step up beside her, giving her what I hope isn’t too dopey of a smile.
“I see you’ve made it back,” I whisper, trying not to startle her.
Tatum lets out the cutest squeak, grabbing her chest. “Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!” After she takes a few breaths and gets her wits back, she adds, “I figured you would be asleep by now.”
“I napped the whole time you were gone.” After I rubbed myself furiously to videos of you, I could add.
“Would you like some wine?” she questions with a smirk, bringing the glass to her lips.
“Sure.” I’m feeling shy again being in the same space as this woman. Add on the aggressive masturbation, and my face is burning with embarrassment. I can’t tell if she has no clue what’s happened, or if she’s eating up every second of my squirming.
I finally risk looking at her, and when I do, I almost squeal.
Yes, squeal.
Her full attention is on me. Hooded brown eyes stare at every inch of me, raking up and down my body. I want to cower away, cover up, but I can’t because I secretly need every ounce of her gaze. Part of me begs to be caught, maybe punished for my crimes.
“Were you a bad girl while I was gone, Lylah?” Oh Jesus, she’s sexy and a mind-reader.
My mouth drops open in shock and fuck knows what else. My brain’s short-circuiting, and I nod frantically, because yes…
I’ve been a bad fucking girl.