Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Zoe

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I step into the quiet hallway of Mandy's condo building.

My heart still races from the confrontation at the clubhouse.

I shake off the lingering tension and stride toward her door.

Before I can knock, it swings open, revealing Mandy with a mischievous grin plastered on her face.

"Hey babe!" she chirps, her eyes sparkling with humor. "Ready to make some money?"

"Yeah," I reply, though my voice lacks its usual enthusiasm.

I try to muster a smile but fail miserably.

Mandy tilts her head, studying me for a moment, then waves me inside.

Her condo is all sleek lines and modern furniture, a stark contrast to the gritty world I navigate outside these walls.

Hell, I could afford to live in something lush and luxurious like her, but I'd rather be at the club in a two bedroom trailer.

Granted, it's technically a three bedroom since I use one as a makeshift office.

I paid for it all myself with money I made from OneEye.

Mandy disappears around the corner, leaving me standing in the foyer, staring at the abstract painting on the wall that never made much sense to me.

Mandy calls out, her voice echoing through the space. "Come on, Zoe! Don't just stand there like a statue."

I take a deep breath and follow her into the living room, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps.

The scent of vanilla candles fills the air, calming yet somehow suffocating today.

Mandy reappears, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her playful demeanor unwavering.

"What's got you so wound up?" she teases, nudging me with her elbow.

"Spark," I admit, sinking into the cushion beside her.

The word hangs in the air, heavy and electric.

She arches an eyebrow. "Spark? What did he do now?"

Her eyes gleam with interest, always ready for gossip.

My voice trails off as I pick at an invisible thread on my jeans. "Nothing major. Just... suggested something."

Mandy presses, leaning in closer. "Suggested what?"

The vanilla scent from the candles mixes with her subtle perfume, creating a heady concoction that feels both comforting and overwhelming.

"That we, you know, share more than just glances," I say, my cheeks heating up despite the cool air conditioning.

"Why would that be a problem? We're in the sex industry, Zoe. Sharing is kinda our thing." Mandy points out, her expression puzzled.

"Yeah, but... the thought of sharing him makes me mad," I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

Mandy's brow shoots up, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "That means you want him."

"Of course I do," I snap, then soften. "But he's part of the club. Nothing serious could ever happen between us."

Mandy still doesn't know Spark and I have been sleeping together.

God, this is getting so fucking complicated.

"Why not?" Mandy asks, genuinely curious now.

"Because my father is an officer in the club," I say, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

Mandy bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the spacious living room. "That's an excuse, not a reason, Zoe."

I look away, the abstract painting on the wall suddenly making a lot more sense.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the tension ebb away with each exhale. "You're right," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mandy cocks her hip out and smirks, a knowing glint in her eye. "Of course I am. Comes with being a few years older than you, Zoe. You get wiser, gain some wisdom."

I roll my eyes but smile. "Right, your infinite wisdom."

"Hey, I'm serious here, Mandy says, stepping closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You need to go for it. Say fuck it to whatever issues might come up. What matters is your happiness."

"Yeah," I nod slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle into my bones. "You're right again. Maybe I could just... keep it from my dad for a while. Just long enough to see if there's really something between the two of us."

"Now that's a brilliant idea! No need to ruffle daddy's feathers unless you have to," Mandy exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious as she gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah," I repeat, more firmly this time. The thought starts to bloom in my mind, possibilities unfurling like petals. "It is a good idea, but please for the love of God, don't ever refer to my father as daddy."

"Of course it is," Mandy laughs, "That's why you have me around—to give you all these pearls of wisdom. And you're just lucky he's not single, because I'd rock that man's world."

"Ew, I don't need to be hearing this shit," I laugh, feeling lighter than I have all day.

Mandy's laughter rings through the condo like a chime, light and teasing. "So, how did he get his road name, Spark?"

"Honestly," I say, leaning back against the kitchen counter, "I don't know. But I assume it has something to do with fire."

"Well, duh!" Mandy snorts, rolling her eyes dramatically as she tosses a dish towel over her shoulder. "It would be pretty ironic if it didn't."

"Yeah, you're right," I chuckle, but the sound is tinged with nervous energy. My mind is still half-occupied with thoughts of Spark and the storm he's stirred up inside me.

"All right, enough about your biker boy," Mandy says, brushing her hands together as if dusting off crumbs. "We should get started."

"Yeah, let's do it," I follow Mandy toward the second bedroom she uses as a studio, my nerves slowly giving way to the familiar rhythm of our work.

It's a room transformed with soft lighting and strategically placed cameras.

As soon as we enter, Mandy heads straight for the equipment, flipping switches and adjusting dials with practiced ease.

The red recording light flickers on, casting a dim glow that contrasts with the brighter ambiance.

She looks over her shoulder, not waiting for my answer before focusing back on the camera setup. "Ready?"

I take a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of vanilla candles and faint traces of perfume ground me. "Yeah."

This space has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I can momentarily forget the chaos outside these walls.

Mandy grabs our masks from a sleek black dresser.

Mine is a delicate lace number, covering just enough to maintain an air of mystery while leaving my lips exposed.

Hers is more elaborate, jeweled, and intricate, fitting her larger-than-life personality perfectly.

I slip the mask over my face, feeling the soft fabric against my skin.

Mandy does the same, and for a moment, we lock eyes—two women hidden behind veils, ready to play our parts.

"Let's do this," she says, her voice muffled slightly by the mask but still carrying that unmistakable edge of excitement.

I step closer to her, my fingers find the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly, exposing the smooth skin beneath.

She mirrors my actions, her hands deftly unbuttoning my blouse, each button coming undone with a quiet pop.

Our movements are synchronized, a dance we've perfected over countless sessions.

Her touch is gentle yet assertive, guiding me as much as I guide her.

The fabric of our clothes falls away piece by piece, revealing more skin, more vulnerability.

Mandy whispers, her breath warm against my ear. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"

"Maybe," I admit, my own hands moving to unclasp her bra. "But right now, it's just us."

"Good answer," she murmurs, her voice tinged with approval.

We continue undressing each other, the barriers between us dissolving along with the layers of clothing.

The camera captures every motion, every glance, but in this moment, it's easy to forget it's even there.

The world outside fades away, replaced by the intimate bubble we've created.

Mandy's lips close around my nipple, her tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

A gasp escapes my throat, and I arch my back slightly, pressing into her mouth.

The camera whirls quietly in the background, capturing every intimate moment, but right now, all I can focus on is Mandy's touch.

My hands slide down her back, feeling the curve of her spine beneath my fingertips.

Her breath is warm and rhythmic, sending shivers down my body.

She knows exactly how to draw out the pleasure, how to make me forget everything else.

For a moment, nothing exists but this connection between us, raw and electric.

"God, sweetheart," I murmur, threading my fingers through her hair, my voice husky with need.

"Shh," she whispers against my skin, her hand cupping my breast as she continues her ministrations. "Just feel."

And I do. I let myself get lost in the sensations, the heat building between us, the way our bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

But even as I give in, there's a part of me that remains distant, watching from the shadows. A part of me that knows this isn't enough.

Mandy forces me down on the bed and opens up the bedside table drawer.

She snickers devilishly, pulling out a dildo and a vibrator.

She lowers her pussy over my face and I dive into her delicious folds.

It's not long before the vibrator is turned on and she's tracing circles around my clit, forcing my body to jerk in response.

The moan that seeps from my lips is a testament to her skills, the way she skillfully manipulates my body to seek pleasure.

Her own need for release is evident in the way she grinds down on me, demanding satisfaction.

Minutes stretch into hours as we lose ourselves in each other.

There is just the two of us, our breaths and sighs echoing in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the low hum of the vibrator.

She rides my tongue like a woman possessed, wetness pooling and dripping down onto my chin.

I lap it up eagerly, savoring her taste.

It's a potent cocktail of desire and lust, mingling with the faint hint of vanilla from our earlier preparations.

"Sweetheart," Mandy gasps out, her hands gripping the sheets on either side of my head.

I can feel her trembling above me, her body taut as a bowstring ready to snap. The vibrations between my legs intensify and I echo her moans.

She forces the dildo inside me, anchoring the vibrator on my clit and I lose it.

The pleasure spikes through me, a wild, untamed thing that sends my body into spasms.

My fingers grip on the sheets, my back arches, and I moan louder than before.

This is pure ecstasy, a state of being where everything feels tenfold.

Mandy's movements falter as she rides out her own orgasm.

Her moans turn to whimpers, her hips buck against my face until she collapses on the bed beside me.

We lay there in silence, our naked bodies glistening with sweat under the soft light.

The only sound filling the room is our heavy breathing slowly returning to normal.

After an eternity in this peaceful silence, Mandy stirs beside me.

She turns towards me with a satisfied grin on her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief and something softer underneath.

"That was..." She starts but doesn't need to finish.

I know what that meant—spectacular. Our chemistry is always like fireworks, bright and explosive.

As we lie there afterward, tangled in the sheets, I trace lazy circles on Mandy's shoulder.

She gets up and turns off the cameras, then sinks back onto the bed beside me.

There's a comfortable silence between us, the kind that comes from knowing someone so well.

Yet, beneath it all, there's an undercurrent of restlessness.

I love Mandy. Not just for the incredible sex or the way we make money together.

I love her for her humor, her strength, and her unwavering support.

She's my anchor in this chaotic world, my confidante, my partner in crime.

But deep down, I know it's not enough. I crave something more, something different.

I crave Spark. The thought of his rough hands, his intense gaze, the way he makes me feel alive in ways I've never felt before—it consumes me.

"You're quiet again," Mandy says softly, breaking the silence.

"Just thinking," I reply, my fingers still tracing patterns on her skin.

"About him?"

"Yeah."

"Zoe," she sighs, turning to face me, her eyes searching mine. "You have to follow your heart, you know."

"I know," I whisper, feeling the weight of her words. "I just... I need to figure it out."

"Whatever happens, I'll be here," she assures me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks, Mandy," I say, offering her a small smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Good thing you'll never have to find out," she grins, pulling me closer.

We share a laugh, the tension easing slightly.

But even as we settle into a comfortable silence once more, I can't shake the longing in my chest.

Because while I love Mandy dearly, I know deep down that my heart belongs to a man. To Spark.

And until I figure out what that means, I'll always feel this ache, this emptiness that no amount of good sex or friendship can fill.