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I quietly climb the stairs, heading for Candy’s room, stopping outside the guest room door and listening for sounds inside. There’s none. I knock gently, but when there’s no reply, I try the handle. It’s unlocked. Silently, I open the door and peer inside. It’s already getting dark outside, the overcast, grey day a large contributing factor. The dusky light doesn’t stop me from seeing Candy curled up in bed though, or the bottle and empty glass of scotch on the bedside table.
Moving further into the room, I spy the paperwork fanned out on the bed next to her, and once I check that she’s in a deep sleep, I cross to the bed to collect the loose sheets.
I know I should probably take them and go, but the armchair in the corner of the room catches my eye and beckons to me. I’ll stay and wait for her to wake. I tell myself that it’s so I can read through her docket and then answer any questions she may have, but the truth is that as I take my seat, I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
She looks tiny in the big bed, her golden curls a messy halo fanned out across her pillow. Obviously at some point she got too hot and discarded Dash’s grey hoodie on the floor. I also know she’s naked, or at the very least topless, under the covers because the duvet has slipped down to reveal a large expanse of creamy skin across her shoulder and décolleté. She’s stunning, even in slumber.
Tearing my gaze away from her, I turn to her pile of paperwork.
As I begin to scan through her questionnaire, my mind races with possibilities. Imagining all the ways that Candy could potentially fit into our world, not just at the club, but here in our home too. I think about the ways I could please her, and the ways she could please others. I wonder if she’s open to exploring her limits, or if she is willing to push herself to new heights in order to please me and the others at the club.
As I delve deeper into her answers, I realise that Candy is not just a pretty face. She is intelligent, and she has thought deeply about what she wants from this experience. Her answers are thoughtful and considered, and I can tell that she is eager to please. Until the alcohol starts talking. They say the truth comes out in wine, but in this instance I think the scotch has loosened her tongue and her inhibitions. I chuckle at some of the annotations, her enthusiastic overuse of exclamation markswhen she likes something, the heavy handed underlining when she’s marking something down. There’s nerves in her replies, but curiosity and excitement too.
I’m drawn to her vulnerability, the way she’s put her trust in us to guide her through this new experience. It’s not just about physical pleasure, but about connecting with someone on a deeper level. And while I’m certainly attracted to her, it’s more than just that. I want to help her explore her desires and push her boundaries, to see her grow and blossom under our guidance. I never normally scene at the club all that much, but with Candy, I want to be there to experience as many of her firsts as possible. But I know my brothers will feel the same. Especially when they see her responses to the questionnaire.
As I continue to read through the rest of her responses, something stirs inside of me. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this kind of excitement, this kind of anticipation. I imagine all the possibilities, the scenarios we could create together, the ways we could push each other’s limits.
I look back at Candy, still asleep in the bed. I know I shouldn’t be thinking these kinds of thoughts, shouldn’t be getting this turned on by someone who is essentially now under our care. But the temptation is too great, the desire too intense. I picture her writhing beneath me, moaning my name as I explore every inch of her body.
I try to shake the thoughts from my head, to focus on the task at hand. But every time I look at Candy, my mind wanders back to those fantasies. And it’s not just the physical aspect that I’m drawn to. There’s something about her, something in the way she talks and moves, that makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Movement in the corner of my eye causes me to look up. Candy is waking, her eyes fluttering open. She looks around blearily for a moment, as if she’s not quite sure where she is.Then, her gaze lands on me, sitting in the armchair by her bed, and she sits bolt upright with the covers clutched to her chest and flicks on the bedside lamp.
“Oh my god, you gave me such a scare, Wint!” she cries. “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to see if you were okay,” I say. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Candy’s eyes drop to the armchair, to my arm draped over the chair’s armrest. She stares at it for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she takes a deep breath and seems to muster up a strength I wasn’t sure she had, pulling the covers even more tightly to her chest.
“You saw that, didn’t you?” she says quietly.
I can barely make out what she’s saying, but I think I got the gist of it, given that her answers are still in my hand. I nod.
“Oh my god,” she groans. “This is so embarrassing.”
“It’s okay, Candy,” I say, trying to reassure her. “I was always going to be the one to read it. But the others will too. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d read it in front of me.”
“To be fair, you were asleep. One too many scotches today, huh?” I tease.
She blushes and glances guiltily at the glass on the side. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. We told you to make yourself at home. I’m glad you did…”
“But?” she says, sensing my hesitation.
“But,” I reply, making my tone firm. “These questionnaires are better filled out with total honesty.”
“I was honest. The alcohol helped with that.”
“Anda clear head,” I finish.
Candy nods her head in agreement, looking down at her hands. I can tell that she’s embarrassed, but I can also seesomething else in her eyes. Something that tells me she’s not entirely sorry for what she wrote. It’s that same spark of excitement and anticipation that I felt earlier, and it’s starting to grow within me once again.
I clear my throat, breaking the silence between us.
“Look, Candy,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “I know that this situation is...unusual. And I know that you probably didn’t expect to be living with a bunch of strangers when you turned up for your shift last night. But we’re all in this together. And I think you should forget that we’re your bosses for a second, and make the best – the most – of it.”
