🅒︎🅞︎🅝︎🅣︎🅔︎🅝︎🅣︎ Ⓦ︎Ⓐ︎Ⓡ︎Ⓝ︎Ⓘ︎Ⓝ︎Ⓖ︎

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑏𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠. 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑝 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑠𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑠: ☘︎☘︎

POV Akhyra

"I can't believe our first show is in two days!" Simone exclaims as we make our way out of the studio.

Today, we had our final rehearsal for Enchanted Shadows before debut, and we only have to come back here tomorrow for a last costume fitting for the big day. 

"Time does fly," I answer while double-checking my duffel bag to make sure I left nothing behind. "It feels like yesterday that Madame Laroche scouted me for the show."

"Wait, you didn't have to audition for this role?" Simone asks, impressed.

"Not really. That's not the role I was going for anyway. However, Madame Laroche implied that if I gave my best to Enchanted Shadows, she'd consider giving me a chance to be part of her retirement spectacle."

"This is huge! She never gives that type of chance to anybody."

"Well, I'm not just anybody. I'm Akhyra Morel." I playfully toss my locs above my shoulders, and Simone laughs. I always release my hair from the bun after rehearsals. 

"What role will you be auditioning for?"

"Main lead, of course."

"Isn't there already a waitlist for that?"

"There is. But if Madame Laroche thought those candidates were good enough, she wouldn't have given me this opportunity."

"I don't think that's true," Simone begins, but I realize that I forgot my wireless earphones in the bathrooms earlier and tell her to wait for me while I go retrieve them.

I run up the stairs and past the women changing rooms, then make a sudden halt when familiar voices coming from inside catch my attention. The male voice is the one that intrigues me the most. 

Why would a man be in there? 

I make my way inside discreetly, guided by the sound of conversation before stopping behind a locker from where I carefully take a peek at what's going on.

Brittany is sitting on a bench with her shoulders hunched, face hiding behind her hands. There's a sniffling noise resonating in the room. She's crying.

I easily recognize the man crouched in front of her from the back of his head with his wavy salt and pepper hair. Ambrose Montgomery, Madame Laroche's friend and co-producer of our ballet. He's placed a hand above Brittany's knee in a gesture that seems both comforting and far too intimate.

"I just need a little more time," he's saying. "Right now, we're both focused on making Enchanted Shadows a success. After that I'm sure she'll be willing to reconsider."

Brittany raises her head, and I notice that there's, in fact, tears streaming down her face, but despite her current state, the venom in her eyes is unmistakable. 

"This old hag is obsessed with Akhyra," she spits. "You'll have to do a little bit more than have a chit-chat with her to bump my name up the waitlist."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I have this under control?" Ambrose retorts. His tone is a combination of irritation and exhaustion. Then he blows out a sigh to regain composure. "Now stop crying. You're too pretty to be sad."

"I'm not sad, I'm furious."

"I can think of a couple of ways to make you feel better."

His hands move between her thighs, but Brittany stands up.

"I'll stop by your place tonight. Please go before someone sees you."

I quickly leave and head to the bathrooms caught in a state of bewilderment and confusion. 

Thankfully, I find the little case that has my earphones near one of the sinks. Just as I'm putting it in my bag, I receive a text from Simone canceling our regular Mimosas date. She mentions having a migraine and had to go back home. I wish her to get well, then leave the studio as my mind is trying to make sense of the conversation I witnessed earlier.

What I saw was pretty self-explanatory. The question is, what do I do now with that information?

***

By the time the afternoon comes, I've still not decided on what to do about the Ambrose-Brittany situation. 

When a woman's mind is preoccupied, the best way to avoid overthinking is to go shopping. I call Lucian to check if he has time to tag along. Normally, I'd bring Hannah for a shopping trip, but I need my boyfriend for moral support.

"I have a vision, but it's incomplete," I tell him half an hour later as we're strolling along the aisles of a fashion boutique.

Lucian follows closely behind as I pause to take a look at different cocktail dresses and evening gowns displayed on clothing racks. When a dress catches my attention for the fitting pile, I pass it to Lucian, who puts it inside a fancy cart that we were provided upon our arrival.  

After the opening show of Enchanted Shadows, there's going to be an after-party hosted by the co-producers in honor of the cast. I'm hoping that by this time, I will have my mind made up about what action to take regarding what I witnessed at the studio. Until then, I'm on a mission to find the perfect dress. 

"And my role is to help you make the best buying decision?" Lucian asks for confirmation. 

"That's right. I've prepared some voting cards for you to rate the outfits I'll choose. Those will help us narrow down my choices once I'm done picking dresses."

I look through my Chanel purse and take out three paper cards of different colors to hand out to him before explaining what they mean. The white one is for outfits that look kinda meh. Blue for those that eat but could be better. Red for absolutely drop-dead gorgeous ones. 

"Take this one back," Lucian says, handing me the white one.

"Why?" I ask, confused. 

"Nothing you wear could look "meh" on you."

My heart does a few pirouette inside my chest, and I blame my hormones for what happens next. I yank Lucian by his shirt and pull him down for a kiss. 

"Akhyra," he murmurs against my lips. "We better get shopping before I drag you out of here and finish this business in your car."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Once I've finished selecting a number of dresses that I'm satisfied with, we head over to the fitting cabins located in a separate room that has a designated waiting area. There are two elderly women chatting with each other when we come in. They're apparently reviewing the clothes that they want to buy. 

Lucian waits for me on one of the sofas, then I take my cart to one of the three cabins available and close the curtains. 

For the next couple of minutes I find myself doing an improvised runaway show for Lucian whose enthusiasm at being a "judge" keeps increasing every time I walk out from behind the curtains with a new dress on. Even the elderly women sitting on the opposite sofa take part in voting for the dresses that they like. 

By the time I've tried all of the gowns, there are two that gathered the most approval. I already know which one I'm going to pick. I return inside the cabin to change back into my regular clothes. I hear the two lovely ladies say goodbye to Lucian, and he thanks them for their help. When I no longer hear them outside, I pop my head out of the curtains. 

"I think the zipper of that last dress is stuck," I tell Lucian. "Come give me a hand."

I don't give him the opportunity to answer before popping back in. 

Lucian walks in barely a few seconds later. I'm standing in front of a rectangular wall-mounted mirror. He places himself behind me, working swiftly through the zipper, easily pulling it down. I step out of the dress, and Lucian takes it to the cart . He meets my gaze in the mirror with a smirk.

"You said the zipper was stuck."

"I said that I thought it was stuck. Difference."

"Of course."

"Since you're here, you might wanna rate this lingerie that I bought a few days ago."

The red set that I wore for the semi-finals was such a winner that I went ahead and bought myself something new. These black two pieces are entirely made of straps with no other material covering the skin. My nipples are only hidden by two stitched flowers. As for the panties, three petals are strategically sewn along the middle strap, keeping my clitoris hidden, but my labia are entirely exposed.

I gauge Lucian's reaction from the mirror.

He leans downward to whisper in my ears, "Forgot the voting cards outside, so I'm going to rate these with my hands if you don't mind."

"I don't mind it at all."

He keeps his gaze locked on mine as he peppers my neckline with kisses. His knuckles brush along my forearms, barely grazing my skin and yet igniting a trail of ember in the wake of his touch. 

"What are you doing?" I try to appear like I'm in perfect control of the situation, but I probably sound like a whiny cat meowing for food.

"Enjoying myself, obviously."

"We don't have time for this, Lucian," I hiss. "We're in a fitting room for crying out loud."

All the oxygen inside my lungs flees when Lucian suddenly claims the middle of my legs with a possessive hand. 

"Do you want me to play with this?" he asks in a husky tone filled with promises.

My head tilts backward, hips instinctively rising to meet his touch. 

"The sooner, the better."

"As you wish your Royal Highness."

He raises two fingers to push them past my lips, his expression darkening in a way that directly affects my nipples. Lucian doesn't seem to have it in his plans to focus on them. Maybe that's his way of torturing me. 

"Suck," he orders.

☘︎I watch myself suck on his forefinger and middle finger like a starving bitch, anticipation clawing at my lower belly. My inner walls clench with desperate need. When they're lubricated enough, Lucian takes out his fingers to slide them under the single strap of my underwear.

The moment he begins to play with the slickness coating my intimacy, my naked toes are curling against the floor, teeth biting my bottom lips to avoid making a sound. 

When my eyes are about to close as I'm slipping further away under the delicious exploration of his hand, I'm dragged back to the surface with Lucian's firm grip on my chin.

"Eyes on me Princess. You need to see yourself begging for this like a hopeless little slut."

This is the only warning he gives me before pushing a finger inside me. The feral whimper that comes out of me then is anything but human. Lucian clasps his hand above my mouth. A wise decision given the fact that there are now voices of some women chatting outside a clear signal that other customers are right behind those curtains. 

Lucian's gaze communicates in the mirror what his mouth doesn't. Keep it shut or we'll get busted. 

I have to bite the inside of my mouth hard and claw my nails into his thigh to try to get a grip. 

When he pushes a second finger inside, a muffled gasps rises between us which only result in Lucian pushing his hand harder against my mouth.

"Be. Quiet." He enunciates those two syllables through clenched teeth, his fingers thrusting in and out of me at an angle that grazes right against my G spot.

Watching Lucian's hand fuck me from the mirror is undoubtedly the most erotic scene I've ever seen. I know I'll be dreaming about this for nights to come.

The pressure inside my lower belly builds until I'm no longer able to keep my eyes open and maintain my balance. My orgasm takes over silently knocking me back against Lucian who holds me through it. 

He pulls out his hand but continues to kiss me softly on my cheek until I come down from the high. As I become lucid enough, we exchange an impish grin in the mirror.☘︎

I think I should go shopping more often with my boyfriend.

After leaving the fitting rooms, I give the cart of discarded dresses to an employee who will put them back on racks and only keep the one I'm buying. I tell Lucian that he can wait for me outside, but he insists on following me to the checkout counter. It's not until I notice that he takes out his wallet at the same time that I open up my purse that I realize we might have a problem.

"What are you doing?"

"You're very smart, Princess. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Will that make me sound mean if I tell him that I don't want him to spend his money on things that I can afford?

"That's sweet," I say gently. "But I really don't mind paying for it."

My declaration only makes him laugh while shaking his head.

"You seriously believed that you'd brought along for shopping as your boyfriend, and then I'd let you pay? I'm fairly certain that this would disrupt the balance of the universe."

"Lucian, this dress is worth fifteen hundred dollars."

He gifted me expensive jewelry on our first date. I'd feel bad if he keeps spending money on frivolous things when I'm obviously the one with higher income in this relationship. 

"I don't know whether to be amused or offended that you're trying to scare me with a bill that has only four numbers."

When I don't answer, Lucian stops walking to make me face him, then he lowers his face above mine like he's about to kiss me, but he doesn't. He simply holds my stare.

"Let me get this straight," Lucian whispers. "You had no problem letting me masturbate you in a public place where anybody could've heard you coming on my fingers, but you don't want me to pay for your stuff?"

This brief reminder of what just happened in the cabin provokes a second heartbeat between my legs.

"It's okay, you can pay," I mutter in response.

A knowing smile stretches his lips. "That's the correct answer."

Lucian closes the distance to kiss me in a way that lets me know there's going to be more when we get home. Then he takes my hand, and we head to the checkout counter.

A few minutes later, I walk out of the fashion boutique, hand-in-hand with my boyfriend, while holding onto the package of the dress that he had bought for me. I just received an orgasm and I know there are others waiting for me when we get home. What more can a woman ask for, really?