“Gray, dude, wake up.”bdsm

Gray awoke from the voice and her urgent shaking of his shoulder. He was still dressed and laying on a black leather couch up against the large sliding glass doors on the western wall of the apartment.

“What? He didn’t kill you?”

The first light of day was cutting through the window and the whitecaps of the Alberta Rockies could be seen in the distance. A few cars sledded along the streets below with tufts of smoke billowing out in the frigid, yet sunny day.

Apple giggled and waved him off with a hand. “No. He only kills you if he cums inside.”

“And he didn’t…?”

“You know what might be the best part about simply being a figment of the writer’s imagination…”

Gray, annoyed now, rolled his entire head. “What is that?”

“No condoms required. No disease. No pregnancy. Nothing. Nice being an imaginary fantasy. I can have the best sex.”

“Yeah? And why get dressed at all then?”

More giggles. “Oddly enough, I don’t trust that with this guy, so I finished him with a hand job.”

“Oddly, indeed.” Gray looked at her hands. “You washed those, right?”

“Yeah, I licked them off.”

Gray went ashen.

Apple grabbed her belly as she laughed. “Of course I washed them, stupid man. I had a shower.” She sat down on the couch beside him.

“Such a brat.”

“You know,” she said oblivious to his scold and on to a completely new train of thought, “I always wondered when I was younger…”

Gray cut her off. “When the fuck were you younger? The writer introduced you in your late 30s.”

Apple’s beaming smile silenced him. “I know, it is awesome. How many people get to avoid the awkward teens, have no baggage from the past, have a rocking body like this, and have my libido?”

“The term ‘born yesterday’ comes to mind for some unfathomable reason.”

“So where was I?” She cocked her head as though she were studying his face. “Right. When I was a younger figment of ‘The Writer’s’ imagination,” she said using fingers to quote, “I recall some silly statistic about the average person having, like four or five lovers in their lifetime.”

Gray shrugged. “That stat was from the 80s when the writer was a young teen. You weren’t around in the 80s.”

“I know! I always thought that was low, too.”

“That wasn’t what I said…but what’s your fucking point.”

“The writer?”

Gray rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“How many adult male characters has he written about.”

Gray shrugged again. “No idea.”

“He wants me to sleep with all of them.”

“All of them? I’m glad you stipulated adult.” Gray’s eyes widened. “What about Fifi?”

“Fifi is a girl’s name.”

“Yes, and he gave it to a male dog.”

“Oh…you know I remember this one guy telling me…”

“No, you don’t.”

She swatted his shoulder.  “I remember this one guy telling the writer that a single girl only keeps the dog around for the tongue.”

His head slumped, resting his chin on chest.  “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, but I have some feeling that Fifi is human now…maybe he kept the tongue.” Apple shrugged. “Anyway, we really should go before Beefcake, in there, wakes up.”

“You really should put some clothes on then.”

Apple looked down and was genuinely surprised to see her own bare breasts. The only thing on her was the collar Gray had insisted she leave on. “Oh, guess I should.” She slowly stood up and cringed as the leather couch peeled off her ass. “Think I left them in the kitchen.”

Gray got up and followed slowly.

She gave the collar a slight tug and turned on Gray. “Why did you say I needed this?”

Gray allowed himself to stop just a little too close to her. “Considering the writer could have dropped us in the Dungeon, I thought it safer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, a darker BDSM story he did about a guy who owned a sex theater.”

The grin blossomed once again. “Cool, maybe we’ll go there next. I look fucking awesome in thigh high boots.” She turned again towards the hallway. “I’ve never fucked a dom before.”

“Technically…you remember the serial killer, right?”

She nodded.

“You just lost your virginity to him, love.” Gray chuckled and followed again. “So, one question I suppose.”

“Yeah?” She turned from the hallway into the kitchen and there was a sonic pop like a giant bubblegum bubble popping.

Gray already knew what had happened but followed anyway.

The kitchen was empty. No clothes…no Apple…and it began to go out of focus.

Gray whispered, “When is my turn?” He watched the color drain and knew he would not see her again for some time. Then, just before he went to white noise, he whispered two words: “Oh boy.“.

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