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The living room light was on when Alyssa got home. Alice was still up, paintbrush in one hand, wine glass in the other. She didn’t notice her daughter appear. The canvas she’d been working on was a swirl of white colours, far too delicate to be so arresting.

Alyssa stood in the doorway a while, watching the unsteady progress. Alice always painted better drunk, which was good since she was drunk pretty much every night. Alyssa cleared her throat but her mother still didn’t turn so she left her to it and walked the few metres down the narrow hall to the bathroom. The shower was on but the room was dark and the door ajar.

Kent. Alyssa hesitated, trying to make him out in the darkness. The water was steady, the shower curtain translucent enough to keep her there longer than was appropriate. She should have gone to her room but of course she lingered.

If she’d been male, or if their roles were reversed, of course it would be inexcusable. But times like this, she was glad to be female, to use it as an excuse. A veil of faultlessness and innocence. She wondered if she was a hypocrite. Probably. Acting fragile when it suited her. But whatever. It was her home. Besides, he should have locked the door.

She decided again that she hated him. Hate. It was a strong word but everything inside her intensified when Kent was around.

It was a hot night and she’d come home purposefully late, hoping nobody would be up. It was easier to come home late than have to endure the noise of them fucking like animals.

It’d been the same as long as she could remember. Every few months Alice found a new man and none of them stuck. Getting away to college had been an escape, only now summer had set in and Alyssa was back for two months to endure the same pattern all over. But this time it wasn’t the same. This time, everything felt different, more dangerous and loaded. Kent was more.

Alyssa pushed her dark hair away from the back of her neck. It felt damp.

She wondered what she was doing; standing there in the middle of the night, listening to the shower water and watching the shape of him. It was sick. He was fucking her mother. But she couldn’t help how profoundly he affected her.

It happened the first time she’d seen him and every day since. They’d all gone out to dinner the evening she’d returned from college and he had this disconcerting way of looking at her like he already knew everything about her. His dark eyes and his tanned skin and the edge of his mouth when he saw all the way through her.

She closed her eyes. She hated him. Hated him so much she wanted to fuck him into eternity.

Like Alice, he was also an artist but a photographer rather than a painter. The two of them had met at some community non-profit art project but Alyssa had switched off halfway through the story, too lost in the furrow between his brows. She was mature enough to know falling for someone so easily wasn’t sensible. It was crazy. It was ridiculous.

She sucked in a long breath. Sweat. Did he know what he did to her? Could he possibly? She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out more of him through the shower curtain. He had the water on cold, she could feel it even from a distance. She thought for one crazy second about peeling off her t-shirt and shorts and getting in with him. God knew she needed it. She could always pretend she’d been drunk.

Her mind had this way of working overtime. People never really knew her. All the things she did. Sometimes her entire existence felt like a secret, too huge to ever trust anyone else with. People knew parts of course. As much as she couldn’t avoid. As much as they found out. Alice probably knew more than she liked. Alyssa figured she should probably hate her but who hates their own mother?

She leaned against the doorframe. Her t-shirt was damp with sweat, thin cotton clinging to her breasts. She looked down at the dents of her nipples. Further past the flat of her stomach to the waistband of her shorts. Her legs. Ankles. Feet. They didn’t move. The water kept pouring. Half of her wished he’d catch her in the act of gawking at him.

But he never noticed her when she wanted him to. It was always the ugly part. The early-morning mess on her way to the bathroom. Or when she was flushed and sweaty from working in the yard. Never the good parts. Never when she dressed up and put up her hair and daubed highlighter on her cheekbones and mascara on her lashes. Never.

She was sweating again, even though she was just a few metres from the cold spray of the shower. He had this way of making her entire body flush. Summer always got under her skin and with him, it felt like things were burning up into something unavoidable. She wanted to shove her hand into her underwear and touch herself until she came and more than that; she wanted him to watch her, wanted him to see how insane he made her. The thought was enough to lose herself in but she steeled herself, found herself, went to her room, shut the door, took off her shoes and fell asleep.

*

Alyssa liked to think she could sense his presence. Nine out of ten times she’d get it right.

She woke the next morning and knew he’d left. There was nothing she could feel. No electricity, no danger, nothing. She opened her bedroom door and the apartment was silent. She went barefoot into the living room. It was a mess of paint tubes, palettes and empty wine bottles. It’d be midday before Alice got up and made an effort to deal with it all.

In the bathroom, Alyssa took off last night’s clothes. The shower and sink were bone dry, sun pouring in through the small window. She switched on the water and stood under it, felt the languorously beautiful way the last night and everything before it seemed to wash away. Pure cleanliness.

It was strange to think back to the previous night, it seemed like the two parts of her life couldn’t quite equate. Daylight shifted her perception. Kent had been standing where she was standing. Naked. It shouldn’t have struck her as much as it did but she was vaguely hungover and time and space seemed like ideas more than reality. If sound could travel, why not time? Why couldn’t by some miracle his past collide with her present so they were both in the shower simultaneously?

It was a ridiculous idea but she could imagine it easily, so viscerally, she could almost feel the way he’d press against her, his cock pushing inside, opening her up to him. The thought came on unexpectedly but she didn’t push it away. It made her breath catch. She bit her lip hard, hand pressed against the cool tiles, her ass pushed out and her legs apart like he was there, fucking her. Her free hand slipped down between her legs, feeling her wet pussy.

She closed her eyes, gasping at the thought of it. She could almost feel him. His hands and his body and his voice. The way he’d grip her hair and pull her head back, telling her how tight her pussy felt around his throbbing cock. His voice right there in her ear, heavy and hoarse the way he sounded when – when she knew how he sounded when he fucked but only because she’d lain awake night after night while he was fucking her mother.

The fantasy turned cold. Alyssa teetered on the edge of something, trying to will away the invasive thought but she felt the moment rush away, drowned out by shame. She suddenly detested herself. Her body felt too tense but she couldn’t do anything about it, not now. She wanted to scream, wondered if anyone would hear if she did. She closed her eyes, face tilted up to the shower, like the water could cleanse her from the inside out. Wash him out. She didn’t want to feel the way she felt.

She finished her shower, dried her hair and got dressed.

The living room remained infuriatingly untidy. She told herself Alice could deal with it but eventually caved and started to clean up, throwing out empty paint tubes, setting used brushes in turpentine, carrying empty wine bottles out to the glass recycling container. She vacuumed. She scrubbed paint off the coffee table and opened the windows.

One of Kent’s cameras was on the edge of the bookcase. She didn’t really know what kind of photography he was into. Still life? Street? Nude? She had no idea about any of it. She touched the camera, imagined taking naked photos of herself with it and putting it back for him to find sometime in the future. The thought made her clench hard. But. But he didn’t want her. He might even be repulsed.

One of his t-shirts was abandoned on the arm of the couch. She didn’t touch it but eyed it wistfully.

She heard the shower switch on so she went to start the coffee machine. Wondered whether Alice would want breakfast, though it was lunch time. Brunch maybe? She rolled her eyes as she rifled through the sparse kitchen cupboards, looking for possibilities. Overcompensating. And for what? She hadn’t even done anything wrong.

Everything she felt was a secret, wound up tight inside and nobody would ever know and she’d never do a thing about it because it’d achieve nothing. Kent didn’t want her. He wanted women like Alice. Beautiful and alive and glowing and charmingly crazy. Alyssa felt like a mess in comparison and when her mother finally appeared, the contrast between them seemed more apparent than ever. Alice should have been hung over, should have looked like absolute death but she never did.

Her blonde hair was brushed and silky, flowing over one shoulder and she was wearing a striped shirt dress. She looked incredible.

“I made coffee,” Alyssa said.

Alice smiled. Her makeup was perfect.

“That’s lovely,” she said, looking around for her purse, “but I have to get to the gallery. I’m already late.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah,” Alice looked vaguely regretful. “We’ll have dinner tonight though.”

And a moment later she’d found her things and was gone, the door thudding shut behind her. A whisk of perfume lingered in the air. Alyssa stood in the narrow hallway for half a minute and then went through into the kitchen and poured some coffee.

There was a different energy about being home alone and now she’d cleaned everything there was nothing to do. A stack of university reading she’d intended to make a start on eyed her from the corner of the room but she ignored it. She scrolled through her phone. She drank coffee. She didn’t want to do anything or see anyone and yet she felt restless at being so bored and alone.

She examined the canvases propped up around the room. The white one Alice had been working on the previous night stood out to her. Shades of white. The brush strokes were bold and seemingly random. But the whole piece seemed to emit ethereal light. It felt pure but flawed. It felt like something.

Alyssa sighed. Alice never kept the good ones. The painting would probably end up in some old man's office, someone who wouldn't look at it or care about it, let alone appreciate it.

She picked up Kent’s camera and examined it idly. There was a thrill in touching something of his. She accidentally turned it on and almost had a heart attack when it whirred into action. She switched it off again promptly and set it carefully back down.

His black t-shirt was still on the couch. He didn’t often leave clothes lying around. Maybe he’d been in a hurry. She picked it up and examined it. Plain cotton. It smelled like him. Alyssa didn't think it'd be particularly wise to become attached to an inanimate object but this inanimate object had been on his body. She wanted to steal it and hide it under her pillow and inhale it night after night.

She almost laughed at herself but the whole idea just made her ache. She craved him more than anything. Even just the smell of him made her insides shiver. She dropped down onto the couch unable to help the way he affected her. Alice was out. Nobody but herself. The tension she’d failed to expel in the shower seemed to rise to the surface of everything.

She only ever felt like she was pretending to be clean.

Often she liked to think of him watching her. His voice telling her what to do. His eyes all over her and his cock hard in his pants. Fuck. She lifted her butt off the couch and tugged her dress up around her waist. Pushing her hand past the waistband of her underwear, she touched her smooth pussy. She already felt wet. It was him. Always. Sometimes when she’d hear him with Alice, the sound of him would turn her on. It was sick, she knew it but she couldn’t help it. The way his voice leaned into indecipherability. It made her shudder. He had the kind of voice which she imagined could say the dirtiest things while still sounding like heaven.

God. She closed her eyes, fingertips massaging her clit hard. She could imagine him standing in front of her. Seeing her open for him. She pushed her underwear down, kicked it off from around her ankles and opened her legs wide. For him. Always for him. It made her heart thud to think of him seeing her so open, on display for him. He’d see everything. Her fingers slicked harder. She was breathing hard now, helpless moans escaping her mouth.

“Fuck,” It turned her on to imagine performing for him, being his. Just his, his baby, his fucktoy, his whatever he wanted. She shuddered out a breath. Sometimes this even felt like enough. She always figured reality wouldn’t measure up to any fantasy and with the fantasy so far out of reach, this was the best she’d get from him. Her own fingers and her imagination. It could be enough. It had to be.

She leaned her head back, lifting up off the couch as she pushed a finger inside herself. His cock would be so much more substantial. She imagined him fitting it into her, making her take it, her body shifting to accept every hard, throbbing inch.

“Fuck,” She could hardly imagine the way it’d feel, being so full of him, being that close, inhaling him and kissing him and feeling his body move in and out of hers. It was beyond precious.

Nothing mattered but him. The warm summer air was coming in through the windows and the room still smelled like paint but he was all she knew, all she wanted. Her pulse raced in her ears, drowning out the rest of the world. Her body inched closer to release, insides tightening in anticipation.

“Please, oh fuck, please,” She was gasping his name, over and over as the orgasm finally hit and she moaned out loud, her mind full of him as pleasure tore through her aching body. It felt like it’d go on forever and she wanted it to, didn’t want to come back to reality so she kept touching herself, teeth digging hard into her bottom lip as she moaned and writhed until she’d taken everything she could.

Then she heard a noise.

She froze. Even in her dazed state, she knew the sound was too close to have come from anywhere outside the apartment. Her heart was still pounding. She opened her eyes and sat up and blinked. Kent was in the doorway. She blinked again, hoping her imagination was still playing overtime but he didn’t disappear.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she said. She felt like the entire world was caving in inside her stomach. Everything became hollow. Had he seen? When had he even come in? She wondered if by some bizarre chance he’d been in all morning and she hadn’t realised. Her heart felt weak.

“The door was unlocked,” he said. He looked up from his phone but his eyes didn’t meet hers. “Is Alice in, or - ?”

“At the gallery,” Alyssa said. Her hand was still buried between her legs. She didn’t move it. He didn’t acknowledge it. His eyes went to her underwear on the floor. He looked at her.

He always made her feel desperate to be more. Something he’d look at and want beyond reason. But she wasn’t. She was a joke.

“Great,” he said. “I’d better get down there.”

He left, the door clicking shut behind him. Alyssa didn’t – couldn’t – move for ten minutes.

*

She felt like she was in trouble. She had that feeling she used to get when she was a kid standing outside the principal’s office. That feeling of being discovered. But it was worse because she didn’t even know how much he’d seen. Or heard. She winced at the thought of herself saying his name out loud. It made her want to crawl under her bed and hide. How could she have been so stupid? How could she ever even look at him again?

She decided for her own sanity that he hadn’t realised what she was doing. The noise she’d heard must have been him coming in through the door and by then she’d finished. It had all been over. He hadn’t seen or heard a thing. He wouldn’t have stood there and watched and if he had she would have known. She would have felt it. She sighed. She tied her hair up into a ponytail and put on fresh underwear and got out of the stifling apartment and took a bus into town and spent the day wandering aimlessly, glaring at affectionate couples and sipping lemonade. She almost wanted to be back at college.

By the time she got home, it was beginning to get dark. Alice was back, clattering through cupboards and drawers.

“Whatcha looking for?” Alyssa asked cautiously.

“Just a brush,” Her mother sounded uncharacteristically frustrated. Alyssa wondered if she’d run out of wine.

“How was the gallery?”

“Fine,” Alice sighed. “The show’s in two weeks. I thought it was three and now they’re not shifting. I’m way behind schedule.”

“Huh.” Alyssa had known the date of the exhibition. There were flyers everywhere but it didn’t seem helpful to point this out. She wondered where Kent was. Every evening since she’d been back from university he’d been here only tonight he wasn’t. She went back into the hall. The bathroom was silent, the door ajar.

“Where’s Kent?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Oh, we’re done,” Alice said dismissively. “In that way at least.”

“What do you mean?”

Alice looked at her. “We’re still friends. It’s nothing dramatic.” There was an edge to her voice, the kind that wanted the subject dropped.

Alyssa frowned. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She looked away silently.

“Have you eaten?” Alice asked, her voice a level softer.

“Yeah,” Alyssa said and she went to her room and lay on her bed until she fell asleep.

*

The next day, Alyssa was out in the yard thinking about Kent’s t-shirt. She dug at a weed in the lawn and wondered if the shirt was still on the couch where she’d left it yesterday. If him and Alice were over, maybe he wouldn’t come back for it. Maybe she really could steal it. It was probably the only thing she’d ever have of him anyway.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Alice’s landlord. The house was split into three apartments and Jason occupied the middle floor. He was old and interfering and Alyssa didn’t know how her mother could stand him. The garden was communal and lately he always seemed to appear when Alyssa was out.

“Is your mother around?” he asked.

“Oh no, she’s out.” Alyssa focused on a particularly stubborn weed and jabbed the end of her trowel at it hard.

“She usually is,” Jason sounded distasteful.

Alyssa glanced up at him. She wondered if he knew how much she disliked him. It didn’t seem like it and she hated him all the more for being so obtuse.

“She gets around, right?” he pressed.

It took a moment for Alyssa to realise he was still talking about Alice. Her eyes narrowed.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He didn’t meet her eyes but she didn't stop looking at him. It was interesting to watch him get progressively redder.

"Anyway, the rent’s overdue,” he finally blustered. “Could you tell her?”

“Fine,” Alyssa said shortly.

He lingered, examining his prized roses. He had them up against the garden wall, all kinds of varieties and he’d periodically heap them with specialist compost. Alyssa straightened up and eyed the dandelions creeping up between the paving slabs on the path. She picked up a bottle of weed killer and sprayed them carefully.

“How long before you’re back to university?” Jason asked. “What are you studying anyway?”

“None of your business,” Alyssa muttered.

He glanced over. “I’m sorry?”

“Business!” she said, louder than necessary. She wasn’t really but he’d never know.

“Oh, nice.”

She waited for him to leave and once she was sure he'd gone, she picked up the weed killer and liberally sprayed his roses with it.

“Alyssa?”

She jumped guiltily but it was only Kent. He was watching her from the doorway.

“You know that’s weed killer?” he frowned.

“Is it?” She looked at the bottle and pretended to be shocked. “Oh! Oh no.”

He wasn’t buying it. He came outside.

“You don’t like him, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

She risked a look at him. He was gazing directly at her, his eyes warm with amusement.

“I thought you and Alice broke up,” she eventually said. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“We’re still friends,” he said. “Your mother wanted me to drive some paintings down to the gallery.”

“Well,” Alyssa looked pointedly at the door back inside but he didn’t move. He was looking at her long enough to make her feel like something was wrong.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. His voice was quiet, like he was telling her something he shouldn’t be. “It’s an overused word but I’ve never thought of anyone fitting it more perfectly.”

Alyssa looked at him. She didn’t understand what he was saying.

“I - I’m overused?”

“You’re beautiful. I couldn’t stop looking. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Heat flushed through her cheeks.

“You didn’t see?” It was a plea more than a question.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “I loved every second.”

He reached out like he might touch her face and she jerked away reflexively. His hand dropped. He looked vaguely remorseful.

“I should go,” he said eventually and he turned and left.

*

Summer always drifted away too easily, slipping through her fingers like warm sand. The days passed too inconsequentially without Kent’s constant presence. He still came over but always too briefly, too fleetingly.

The night of Alice’s exhibition came closer. She went constantly back and forth between endless paintings as Alyssa watched silently. She felt vaguely envious of her mother’s success. Alice did what she loved, lived how she pleased and got away with it.

Luck. Everything always figured itself out for her. She had the kind of face that makes a woman successful and she was always on the edge of drunk, funny and flirtatious and out there. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could work to achieve. It was her. Her personality and her art and all the tiny things that made her into this unlikely success. She was a good time, if you didn’t stay too long. Perhaps if it didn’t all fit together and sell so outrageously, she’d have been flat broke. But she wasn’t. The paintings sold. The galleries were always interested. They’d moved a dozen times and every new city ate her up and loved her.

The night of the exhibition came closer. Alice was up to speed with her paintings and Kent would come over to photograph and then drive them down to the gallery.

Alyssa tried to stay out of his way but the energy between them had shifted. It felt endlessly alive, like something just waiting to happen. Sometimes she’d feel him watching her and felt like she might just expire from the weight of his gaze. She wondered if he really thought she was beautiful. How could he? The thought of him having seen her made her ache with mortification and yet every time it crossed her mind, she felt overwhelmed by arousal.

She hated him. She wanted him. Could you want someone you hated? He was so attractive. Sometimes she just wanted to touch his face, feel the way it all fit together.

He rarely left her mind. Pieces. She remembered the first night they’d met. His tanned arm on the white tablecloth. His fingernails. She wanted to kiss every inch of him and yet to do that would be to reduce herself to something soft and honest and loving. But god, she wanted it. Wanted to love him. She wasn’t sure she knew how to love. He wasn’t even hers to love. How could she love him? It’d be showing part of her that she wasn’t even sure existed. Something foreign and untried. It was easy to push people away. And then when they went she felt satisfied, like she’d been proved right. Justified.

She didn't know what to do anymore.

*

The gallery was packed with people. Alyssa wandered around aimlessly. She’d bought a short, black dress especially for the night and had spent an hour trying to match her makeup to it while she’d waited for Alice to get ready. Half the paintings had sold within an hour and Alice was constantly surrounded by people. She knew how to talk, always had done. Alyssa watched with half a smile. It never got old.

She drank champagne. Alice introduced her to some people. One of them kept trying to give her more champagne until she accidentally spilled a glass down the front of his shirt. One of them kept insisting she must have a hoard of brilliant artwork hidden away. One had the whitest teeth she'd ever seen in her life. They were so white they looked blue.

The evening wore on. Alice was deep in conversation with a man twice the size of her. They were flirting outrageously. Alyssa hoped her mother was only doing it for the sales because she didn't think she'd be able to keep a straight face if the man wound up in Alice's bed.

She was enjoying maybe her fifth flute of champagne when Kent appeared.

“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

He was wearing a button down shirt and dark jeans.

Alyssa frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He didn't say anything. She wished he'd stand closer even though talking to him at all made her jittery.

"I think I might go home," she said eventually. Alice was still all over the huge man and she was starting to worry it wasn't an act. The thought made her nauseous.

“I can drive you,” Kent offered.

"Huh?" She tore her eyes away from Alice. "Drive me where?"

"You said you wanted to go home," he said.

Alyssa blanched. The thought of being alone with him was chaos.

“I’ll just get a taxi,” she said.

He half laughed.

“Come on, Alyssa. You know me.”

She looked at him. He was hard to look at but she didn't want to stop.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just let Alice know.”

“Great. I’ll see you outside.”

*

Kent’s car smelled like cigarettes and him. Alyssa sat in the passenger seat and he got in next to her and started the engine and pulled out into the traffic. Saturday night. The streets were busy, the sky blue and grey and black, making the world seem like something out of someone’s hazy imagination.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, eventually.

She considered ignoring him but the traffic was torturously slow.

“Yeah. It was good," she said blandly.

She felt him glance at her. “Are you mad at me or something?”

Mad. She considered the word, wasn’t sure whether it applied. She wasn’t sure. She decided not to answer the question. Instead, she said,

“I don't really know what to say.”

He looked at her and sighed.

“Do you ever think maybe you only meet a person to find another? Is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s ridiculous. You were with my mother.”

He looked uncomfortable. The traffic finally split into lanes and loosened up. Wind came in through the open windows, taking her breath away.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s not like she was in love with me. It was as casual as it gets.”

“As casual as staying over every night?”

There was a pause and then;

“I thought of you every time.”

“That’s sick.”

He didn’t flinch.

“Maybe I only ever stuck around because of you.”

“Right.”

“I met you and I couldn’t leave and I know it’s messed up but aren’t we all?”

“Not that messed up,” she said.

“Really?” he pressed. They’d stopped at a traffic light and he was looking through her again, like that first night, and she should have got out of the car but his look was holding her there, reading her, knowing her, understanding everything she was and she felt as though she could tell him anything and he’d still want her and it was ridiculous of course but it made her feel free. It made her feel like somebody finally understood.

“I didn’t think you’d want me,” he said. “Maybe if I knew, I’d have done something.”

“What, you couldn’t tell?” Alyssa almost laughed.

“Not at first,” he said. “It’s not as though it makes any sense. I’m twice your age.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“And you don’t care?”

She pulled in a breath.

“It only makes it worse,” she whispered and it was true. There was something precious about being wanted by someone who’d seen everything. Someone who knew more. Someone who was calmer and more patient and so much more full of experience than any other guy she’d known.

She couldn’t look at him. She pulled down the sun visor and flipped open the mirror, checking her makeup. Sometimes she’d see Alice in her own reflection. It always startled her. The same nose. Cheekbones. She leaned closer to the mirror. Just younger. Darker. Cleaner. Together, at least on the outside.

She didn’t want to be a version of anyone but herself, didn’t want him to want her for anything but herself. She snapped the visor back up and frowned.

“Aren’t you in the wrong lane?”

“Short cut,” he said.

For a mad second she’d hoped he was taking her somewhere else but he wasn’t that kind of guy. She almost wanted to cry. She could feel him glancing over at her every couple of seconds and it was more than she could bear. She didn’t want him to look. Didn’t want him to see what she really was.

She wanted too much. She felt unreasonable. Too needy. She wanted him to want her all the time, constant attention, constant affection, but she couldn’t say it because it was too much. It made her eyes fill with tears and she hated herself for it. She wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could tolerate for too long.

“What is it?” Kent asked.

Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he be mean or weird or unattractive at least? Why did it feel like he understood her entire existence and saw it as something clean? Why did his voice ease inside her like she was something porous?

“Nothing,” she said.

He’d got to her street and stopped in the middle of the road, like he was waiting for her to get out of the car. She didn’t move. She didn’t want it to be over. Didn’t want him to go. Didn’t know if she’d ever see him again.

“Do you want me to come inside with you?” he asked.

She looked at him. He didn’t look at her, focusing instead on something in the distance.

“Yeah, okay,” she said.

He pulled into a parking space and Alyssa got out of the car and headed for the apartment building. She was thinking about how she’d showered earlier that evening, cleaning every inch of her body until her skin felt silky and smooth. It was for Alice’s show. She’d put on makeup and done her hair and worn a nice dress for Alice. Only now it felt like it had always been for Kent.

It wasn’t meant to be so easy. She shouldn’t have been alone with him but she was and there was a reason for it, something bigger than her, something she couldn’t even be bothered to fight against because she wanted him, god how she wanted him and she couldn’t say no, not now, not when they were this close, not when it seemed like everything was aligning on purpose.

She unlocked the door, held it open for him and then let it drop shut. They stood there in the dark hallway for a minute. He was so close.

He wasn’t Alice’s anymore. And Alice wouldn’t know.

She wouldn’t ever know.

Kent stepped closer. Alyssa didn’t move away. She looked up at him and then she kissed him. He kissed her back, his perfect mouth on hers, his lips and his tongue, and she could feel how much he wanted her and she couldn’t stop. Not now. She was finally doing it.

Everything was happening and he tasted like cigarettes and champagne and his hands were on her, touching her, feeling her through the dress, dropping to touch her ass. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t think she could ever say no to him.

Her hand went down, brushing against the front of his pants. He was already hard, straining against the material. She wanted to see his cock, touch it, see if it was everything she’d imagined. Her fingers moved to unfasten his pants, hand venturing inside to grope him through his boxers. He felt so hard. So hot. He groaned as she touched him, shoving her against the door.

“Alyssa, are you sure?”

She didn’t – couldn’t – answer.

She dropped down to her knees, tugging at his clothes so she could touch his smooth, heavy balls. She pressed her lips to them and kissed them wetly. Licked them. It was everything. He was everything. So male and urgent. His cock was hard, pressing against her cheek and she stroked it there, rubbed it against her face, almost purring with satisfaction. He was looking down at her but she didn’t look back. She wanted the moment to last forever.

His hand moved down, fingers clawing into her hair urgently. She felt wanted. Needed. There was something precious and powerful about it. She moved back a little so she could sweep her tongue around the head of his erection. He let out a rasp and she dragged her tongue all the way up to the base before curling it down again. She closed her lips around it, her tongue stroking against the underside. His hand was gripping her hair tight, almost painfully, but he didn’t try to take over. He let her explore, as her fingers moved to touch his balls before wrapping around the base of his cock, holding it steady as she sucked hard. She’d never wanted to give a blowjob before him. Somehow, he made it seem like something necessary.

“Fuck,” He spat out the word, his breathing heavy and controlled. “Fuck, Alyssa.”

She loved the way he said her name. He made it sound like something delicate and feminine, like candyfloss in his mouth. She could feel his eyes dragging all over her face but she couldn’t look up at him even as he throbbed against her tongue. She took him deep enough to make her eyes water and then she retreated and did it again, wanting to be just everything to him. Half of her willed him to unleash in her mouth and she almost thought he would from the sound of his moans but then he yanked her hair hard, pulling her off him.

He pulled her up and kissed her. He kissed like a man. Like he owned her. Like his tongue belonged in her mouth. He pulled her body into his and she could feel all of him against her. It made her breath catch. Closeness. He pulled her to him and guided her through into her room, pushing her down onto the bed. He was breathing hard.

“God, you are everything,” he said. He said it like it angered him, or pained him at least. “You’re just – so – beautiful. So perfect.”

She would have protested but her voice had evaded her. She just gazed at him. His eyes were dark, so wonderfully dark. His hands skimmed up her legs, disappeared beneath her dress and found her underwear, pulling it down. Her heart was pounding. He was on top of her and they were both practically still clothed but he was going to fuck her. It made her stomach clench hard. Everything she’d ever craved was rushing towards her and she could hardly breathe.

She wanted to tell him to stop so she could feel everything, take her time with everything but then she’d probably get insecure and stop him altogether. His hands were pushing her dress up, exposing her nakedness to him and he groaned just from looking at her. Nobody had ever made her feel so wanted.

“Open your legs,” he said.

“What?”

His eyes flicked to hers.

“Show me.”

She did as he asked and he moved down, his hands holding her open as he bent and licked her hard. She gasped, instinctively tried to pull away but he did it again, lashing his tongue against her until she felt indecently wet. He pushed her legs wider, and swirled his tongue around her clit until she was pushing desperately back at him. He didn’t let her come. He moved up her body and kissed her, his mouth full of her taste. It felt decadently intimate.

His cock was pressing hard against her pussy and he reached down, guiding it to her entrance. She’d been with boys before but it never felt like they fit properly. But Kent was pushing inside her like he’d always belonged there, opening her up to him and filling her entirely. It felt like something that needed to happen. It felt like she was made to take his cock. She took it. Every time he pulled out and shoved back in she took it all over again. He was pushing deep inside her, deeper than she thought possible. It made her breath catch every time.

“You are so – fucking – tight,” Kent’s teeth were clenched hard as he strained inside her. He kissed her again, hard and searching, like his tongue could tell her all the things he couldn’t say. His body shoved repeatedly against hers and every so often he’d stop and just grind against her like he was trying to get deeper still. It felt like heaven.

She didn't ever want to stop. It felt like the world had all just drifted away leaving the two of them alone to draw each other out forever. He felt so good. So good. It made her eyes water and her body ache deliciously. She wanted to give him everything she'd ever be.

She came first. She almost didn’t want to but it built effortlessly; his cock was touching her in all the right places and the harder she pushed up at him, the harder he thrust until her body caved, blinding pleasure rushing through her and making her moan desperately. She clenched around him hard, helplessly and then he came too, jerking inside her as he groaned gutturally. It prolonged her orgasm and for a long few moments they just pushed against each other, trying to hold onto the bliss.

They were both breathing hard. She didn’t want him to move. Ever.

“God,” he said, finally. “My god, Alyssa.”

She felt warm, safe. She looked up at the dark ceiling and she felt like she was floating, like she was filled with clouds of content. Every other part of her life seemed miniscule, way too far away to even think about.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

She wanted to laugh. She wondered if she should tell him how many times she’d imagined fucking him and how none of them had come close to the real thing. Everything about him was so sublime it made her ache and she was thinking of a way to tell him when there was a noise from the hall.

They looked at each other.

“Alyssa?” The front door slammed shut and Alice’s voice floated through the open bedroom door.

Alyssa’s eyes darted to the alarm clock on her bedside table. It wasn’t even midnight. Her mother shouldn’t, couldn’t, be home.

“Can you believe we sold every piece?” Alice’s voice came closer. “Every last one!”

Alyssa couldn’t speak. Her senses finally kicked into action and she jumped up to find her underwear but it was dark and she couldn't even get her dress straight and Kent was in her bedroom and there was no time to get herself together, no way of lying or explaining her way out of it all.

Reality had returned too soon and she wasn't ready to deal with it.