I guess, when I found her near the metro station before, that first encounter, the way she got into my car without hesitation, our first play must’ve made her trust me, enough to share her address this time. She wanted to “play,” she said. Her place turned out to be surprisingly close. That sudden openness made me suspicious, but I didn’t resist. There was something about her, like she welcomed risk.
I hadn’t seen her around before, maybe she was new to the area. I entered her place and looked around. Her apartment was small, the kind of place you could cross in five steps, and dimly lit by RGB lights pulsing from her gaming setup. She sat there at her desk, perfectly posed like she’d rehearsed the moment. The way she looked- calm, striking, suggestive- made it obvious: this was what she meant by “play.” Video games. I play too, occasionally.
I asked what we’d be playing. She just nodded toward the bed beside her and told me to sit. “Take photos if you want,” she said. “But don’t touch anything.”
She twirled in her chair a couple times before planting her feet wide, revealing her soaked underwear. The moment flipped- suddenly charged, surreal. She raised a finger to her lips for silence, then slipped off her lower clothes without a word. I watched, stunned, phone in hand, barely remembering to breathe.
She began “playing” in a different sense, moving with deliberate control, fully aware of the effect. Then, she stood, told me to get up, and climbed onto the bed. I was painfully aware of my arousal, but said nothing. From under her pillow, she pulled out a pink rubber toy and lowered herself onto it with practiced rhythm. Her body arched, her expression glazed over in pleasure. After a few hard thrusts, she collapsed onto her stomach, still, glowing.
“Take the last photo,” she murmured. “Playtime is over. Thank you for watching.” It sounded rehearsed. Like she’d said it before.
She sat up, composed herself, threw on a black silk robe, and said she had work to do. I asked if I could see her again, maybe take her to the beach…?
“Tomorrow. Bye.”
Then I left. Still processing. Still wanting more.
