9. Paul
9
PAUL
D id she… fake it? I’ve watched her come with a vibrating tentacle between her legs, and what I just witnessed was like a store-brand knockoff version of an orgasm.
Why did she go home with him if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands and mouth?
I could do better—would’ve done better—if Victor hadn’t ruined everything.
Victor has been stalking Keri for the better part of a year. Maybe longer. Then again, so have I. In my defense, I felt an obligation to protect her from him and worked my way through the ensemble until I was finally second chair. But it wasn’t enough. Somehow, the fucker still sunk his teeth into her.
Not anymore. Not on my watch.
Keri left out large bottles of lube in her room; they had to be for me. While I’m not personally into restraints, given how many variations she had in her dresser, I assumed she was some sort of closet Domme. As soon as my stomach settled a bit, the logical thing to do was tie myself up like a present for her.
Except, it backfired. Victor caught me and it earned me a fist to my face. I still stand by the lube and restraints being intended for me. Why else would she have invited me over?
Once they left, I tracked her back here to his place—the location tags were an excellent purchase. I shouldn’t have watched them fuck, and I certainly shouldn’t continue watching as he takes care of her after, but my curiosity is piqued. I need to know what she’s into when she’s not fucking herself so I can save her from him—even if the research sours my stomach worse than the almond milk latte. From the looks of it, it won’t take much to pry her away from him.
Does she know he’s been stalking her? Why is she with him if she knows he’s been following her?
With a couple of hours to spare before rehearsal, I head home to take a shower and change. Before I leave, I consider an apology dessert. There’s a store-bought grasshopper pie in my fridge I had planned on sharing with Keri. She loves mint chip ice cream, so I figure she should enjoy minty pie too.
It could use a whipped cream topping, and I break out my stand mixer, heavy whipping cream, sugar, and vanilla extract. As the cream thickens in the bowl, an idea strikes me and I can’t help myself.
If I can’t be inside her, I can be inside her…
At the same rhythm as the mixer, I stroke my cock until I’m moments from coming. I stop the beating of the whipped cream and my dick for a moment and remove the bowl. As I’m about to resume jerking off into the whipped cream. I pause. What if Victor eats it? I can’t help the smirk tilting my lips, and tug on my cock a few times, coming into the bowl. I place it back on the stand and continue letting it whip for another minute.
With pie in hand, I rush to rehearsal, not bothering to cover up my swollen eye. I could lie to everyone and claim I ran into a door frame or even make up an elaborate story about getting in a fight with someone. Better yet, I could tell the truth and jeopardize Victor’s place in our ensemble. Double bass players are easy to come by. Except he could also admit he found me in Keri’s bed, naked and tied up, waiting for her.
What if he took photos?
No, he’s a lovestruck puppy. He wasn’t thinking of blackmail when he stumbled upon my cock concealed by her edible underwear. His decision to punch me was impulsive. Still, I was out cold for a while and there could be photographic evidence.
It’s in everyone’s best interest for me to stay quiet.
The familiar sounds of instruments tuning fill the space, but it comes to a halt as I take a seat next to Keri. It isn’t as if I could hide my black eye, but it’s mortifying all the same. Silent pity oozes from everyone.
“Hey Keri,” I mumble, and she gasps as she spots my swollen eye. I don’t want her to look at me like this; I want hearts in her eyes. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I, uh, should’ve warned you about my intolerance.”
“You knew Victor brought coffee and croissants for me, not you. As far as I’m concerned, you deserved it—consequences to your actions.”
She’s right; there’s no excuse for what I did.
“All right, everyone.” Our assistant conductor taps his baton three times on the music stand. “Let’s get warmed up.”
We work through a few scales, including A minor, which is my least favorite, and a few tuning exercises. After a few, we begin working through one of the pieces for an upcoming concert. I can practically feel Victor seething from the back of the ensemble and try my hardest to contain my amusement.
When we finish, I tell Keri, “I brought something for you, to apologize.” I pull out the pie from the cooler. “Grasshopper pie. I know how much you love mint ice cream; I figured it was the next best thing.”
She glances behind us to Victor, then back to me. “Oh, thanks. You really didn’t have to.”
I thought she would be more excited about it. She offers a sweet smile as she takes the pie. “Do you have any forks? We could share it. Maybe forget yesterday happened.”
“No, sorry, I didn’t.” I’ve never been so grateful for forgetting utensils in my life. Still, hope fills me at her olive branch. In the corner of my eye, I catch Victor approaching. Not wanting a second punch to my face, I quickly stand, wish her a good rest of her day, then rush out to my car.
Once in the driver’s seat, I check the location tags I planted, only one is active. I wait until it’s on the move, then follow Keri to Victor’s house… hopefully for the last time.