Black Card Black by J.D. Midnight

Author:J.D. Midnight [Midnight, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Essie had always wanted to live inside of a music video.

Adult life had filled rapidly with a sort of monotony she found appalling, and vaguely terrifying. More and more her days were eaten away by meaningless tasks. Oil changes. Doctor’s appointments. Waiting in line for coffee. Waiting in line to get lunch. The DMV. Waiting for her husband to get home; waiting for him to go to sleep so she could let the mask of “everything is fine, dear, really” fall.

Waiting and wasting.

She wanted jump cuts. Scene fades, every boring aspect of being alive snipped neatly away. A highlight reel of her life, never existing in those dreaded moments of in-between.

For a moment—with Woods, Owen, and Levi—she got that.

After she hung up the phone, the structure of everything dissolved. Hands carried her back to the bed. She remembered the springs of the mattress creaking, the headboard slapping against the wall as all four of them laid upon it, the men forming a loose pile on top of her.

She couldn’t keep up with it all.

It became both image and sensation. The things that were happening to her fading rapidly into memory almost before they even happened.

Owen and Levi, taking turns with their mouths on her pussy. Woods covering her eyes and demanding she pick which tongue she liked best (Levi’s).

Kissing Woods even as Levi buried his face in her ass.

Each of them taking turns in missionary, one after another. Levi muttering something sweet about her hair in her ear, Owen complimenting her lips, Woods telling her they never usually went this long. Normally everyone tired out, there was just something about her. “Fuck, Essie, why’d you have to be so hot? I might not let you go. I might keep you on a leash forever.”

Exhausted, her entire body sore, and none of the men seeming close to slowing down, she managed to utter, “Black Card.”

They each froze in what they were doing and looked up. It struck her as comical, how obedient they were. Woods was wearing his mask again, so three Jason Voorhees characters looked at her, bewildered.

Almost innocent.

She pulled away from Woods, and detangled herself from Owen and Levi, the jumble of human bodies suddenly claustrophobic and oppressive.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gulping from the water bottle next to the bed. “I am so tired. I can’t do anymore.”

Woods nodded, and led her gently into the next room, the large suite opening into the living room area. Over the plush, soft carpets, he showed her the bathroom, with its gleaming whirlpool tub and sterile, minimalist-grey tile. “Take a bath. Rest. We’ll make the bed for you.” He turned the water on, leaning over the edge of the tub. She could see deep scratches in his back.

My nails did that.

There was a certain level of triumph in the thought.

“Do you like the water hot? I try to melt the skin off my bones when I shower, but everyone’s different—”

“Scalding, please,” she said, smiling at him. He’d done it again; switching from a sex fiend to someone caring, jovial.

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