College Threesome

Linda transferred to a small, relatively private women's college after her sophomore year. Within a few weeks, she knew she had found the right environment.

This story is about the strange memories she has from that time.

She got along well with her new dorm roommate, Sherry, and genuinely admired some of her professors. Life on campus felt intimate, almost insular, but that only made certain experiences stand out more.

One evening, a group of girls decided to go out for drinks. The bar was lively, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter. They sat together, unwinding from the day, swapping stories, and letting the booze ease the stress.

As the night stretched on, people began to drift out. By nine, only a handful remained. Linda found herself alone at one end of the long wooden table, nursing her drink. At the other end, two figures still sat deep in conversation — Sherry and Francesca.

Francesca was already married to Giovanni, a wealthy young man, but she lived alone in an incredible apartment near campus. She was stunning, effortlessly magnetic, and well known for her... selective interest in women.

Linda hesitated, then slid down the bench toward them. She didn't want to intrude, but the night was winding down, and she wasn't ready to leave just yet.

"Hey, you two," she said as she settled in. "Deep conversation?"

Sherry glanced at her with a warm smile. "Just gossip, really," she said, swirling her drink. Then she glanced at her phone. "But I should probably head out — early morning tomorrow."

She stood, grabbing her purse. "See you back at the dorm?"

Linda nodded, watching as Sherry left. When she turned back, Francesca smirked and took a slow sip of her drink.

"Was I interrupting something?" Linda asked playfully.

Francesca exhaled a short laugh. "Not really. Just testing the waters."

Linda raised an eyebrow. "With Sherry?"

Francesca gave her a knowing look. "What do you think?"

Linda considered it. Sherry was stunning, but she had always struck Linda as the type who naturally attracted men. Still, attraction could be unpredictable.

"I think," Linda said, leaning in slightly, "that she seems more like a 'guy's fantasy' than someone who'd go for a woman. But I could be wrong."

Francesca tilted her head. "You're not wrong. But sometimes, you never know until you ask."

Linda swirled the ice in her glass, watching Francesca carefully. "Did you ask?"

Francesca chuckled. "Subtly. She played coy. Which usually means no."

Linda smiled, feeling bold from the drink and the cozy understanding between them. "What if she says yes?"

Francesca's dark eyes flicked up to meet Linda's. "Then I would've invited her back to my place."

Linda nodded "Sounds like an interesting night."

Francesca smirked. "Could've been. But, you know, plans change."

Linda held her gaze for a second longer, a small thrill sparking in her chest. "They do."

Francesca leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the side of her glass. "What about you? Would you have said yes?"

"I guess you never know until you ask."

Francesca studied her, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Consider this me asking."

Linda felt a flush rise in her cheeks, though whether from the drinks or Francesca's directness, she wasn't sure. She glanced at the nearly empty glass in front of her, as if the answer might be swirling somewhere in the melting ice.

"What if I said maybe?" Linda teased, tilting her head.

Francesca chuckled. "Then I'd say we should order another round and see where the night takes us."

Linda hesitated for a second before lifting her hand to signal the bartender. "Alright," she said, meeting Francesca's gaze.

As they sipped their fresh drinks, the conversation took an unexpected but exhilarating turn. Francesca leaned in slightly. "You know," she mused, "Sherry has an amazing body."

Linda laughed, taken slightly off guard but intrigued. "No arguments there."

Francesca smirked. "But she's exactly the type of woman men drool over. Not really my type."

Linda tilted her head. "So, what is your type?"

Francesca's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Confident. A little unpredictable. Someone who knows what she wants but doesn't mind being surprised."

Linda swirled her drink. "Sounds... exciting."

Francesca raised an eyebrow. "And you? If you had to pick, what kind of woman catches your eye?"

Linda hesitated for a second. "Strong, but not overbearing. Someone who's playful, who doesn't take herself too seriously."

Francesca nodded. "Interesting. And yet, here we are, having one of the most open conversations about sex I've had in a while."

Linda laughed, shaking her head. "Same. I don't think I've ever talked this freely about attraction with anyone — male or female."

Francesca leaned in. "Maybe it's the drinks."

Linda met her gaze. "Or maybe it's just good company."

Francesca's smirk softened into something almost thoughtful. "Maybe."

After a brief pause, Linda shifted in her seat, studying Francesca's expression. Then, she asked, "I heard you're happily married."

Francesca chuckled, a soft, knowing sound. "Yes, but it's... complicated."

Linda tilted her head. "Complicated how?"

Francesca took a slow sip of her drink, letting the moment stretch before answering. "It's not like I'm repulsed by men," she said finally.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Francesca swirled the liquid in her glass, watching the way it caught the dim bar lights.

"Theoretically, I could be with a man. But there are... things that completely turn me off. Deal-breakers."

Linda leaned in slightly. "Like what?"

Francesca smirked, her dark eyes flickering with amusement. "You sure you want to know?"

Linda laughed, taking a sip of her own drink. "You brought it up."

Francesca sighed, as if debating whether to answer, then finally set her glass down. "It's not about dominance or control. It's just that there are so many little things — things couples do naturally — that would get in the way."

Linda narrowed her eyes, intrigued. "Like?"

Francesca exhaled, glancing at Linda before continuing. "It would only work if the guy let me take complete control of the dynamic. No instigating. No assumptions. Just... following my lead."

Linda grinned playfully. "So you do want to dominate a man."

Francesca shook her head, her expression serious now. "No. That's not it at all." She leaned forward slightly, her voice softer. "It's not about power. It's about avoiding situations that make me uncomfortable."

Something about the way she said it — calm but unwavering — sent a small shiver down Linda's spine. She wasn't sure whether it was Francesca's confidence or the underlying vulnerability in her words. Either way, she wanted to know more.

"So, what happens when someone doesn't follow your rules?" Linda asked, her voice quieter now.

Francesca's lips curled into a slow, almost secretive smile. "They don't get to stay."

Linda held her gaze, her pulse quickening. This conversation had taken a turn she hadn't expected.

Linda and Francesca must have been plenty drunk, because before long, their conversation took an unexpected turn.

"You know, it's funny," Linda mused, swirling the last of her drink in her glass. "Have you ever thought about actually trying something like that with a girl like me?"

Francesca let out a dry chuckle. "You mean — me calling all the shots? And you just going along with it?"

Linda smirked. "I mean... why not? Just to see if it could work."

Francesca tilted her head, studying Linda. "You don't really think it would, though."

Linda shrugged. "Probably not. You'd get frustrated, or I'd get bored. But... it could be interesting for a little while. A test, if nothing else."

Francesca exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "You're actually considering this?"

"Aren't you?" Linda challenged.

"Well, I have to admit, I'm curious. Maybe you're right — it wouldn't last. But... what if it did?"

Linda laughed. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

As they stepped out of the bar into the cool night air, Linda glanced over at Francesca. "So... whose place?"

Francesca smirked. "Remember, you're not supposed to instigate anything."

Linda hesitated for a moment, suddenly wondering what she'd gotten herself into. But curiosity — or maybe the alcohol — pushed her forward. "Alright then. My car?"

Francesca nodded. "That works."

They slid into the front seats, the air between them charged with an unspoken tension. Linda turned to face Francesca, but before she could say anything, Francesca spoke first.

"One thing I do like," Francesca said, "is kissing."

Linda felt her pulse quicken. "Yeah?"

Francesca nodded. "For tonight, that's it. Just kissing. No touching, no hugging — just lips."

Linda let out a soft laugh. "Setting the rules already, huh?"

"That's the deal, isn't it?"

Linda met her gaze, then slowly smiled. "Alright. Just kissing."

Francesca leaned in first, closing the space between them. Their lips met, slow and deliberate, as the world outside the car faded away.

That moment was strangely surreal — setting such strict limits, surrendering control completely, even over something as small as placing a hand on Francesca's shoulder. It was unlike anything Linda had ever experienced, and yet, she was ready to follow through on their experiment.

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, exploratory kiss. There was an intensity to it, an awareness of how little they were allowed to do beyond this simple act. No hands, no bodies pressing together — just lips and breath and the quiet hum of the night around them.

Francesca pulled back first, studying Linda with a slight smile. "Different, isn't it?"

Linda let out a breathy laugh. "You could say that. Feels... a little like a tease."

"And you're okay with that?"

Linda tilted her head, considering. "Yeah. I think I am. It's... kind of exciting."

Francesca smirked. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

She leaned in again, this time deepening the kiss just slightly. Linda let herself sink into it, tasting Francesca, feeling the power in the restraint. Every instinct told her to move, to touch — but she didn't.

And somehow, that made it all the more thrilling.

It had been a long time since Linda had kissed someone like this — deep, unhurried, and for five, ten minutes or more. It started as one slow, lingering kiss, but within minutes, their tongues were teasing, exploring, taking turns invading each other's mouths. The restraint, the deliberate pace, only made it more intoxicating.

Linda's pulse pounded. The urge to reach out, to pull Francesca closer, was almost unbearable. But she held back, playing by Francesca's rules. Every few minutes, they paused just long enough to catch their breath, their lips hovering close, eyes heavy with heat. Linda could tell Francesca was just as turned on, though she remained in control, dictating the rhythm of their game.

Time slipped away. Half an hour passed, lost in the slow burn of anticipation. Then, during one of their brief pauses, Francesca pulled back slightly.

"That was a good first evening," she murmured. "I'm going home."

Linda blinked, still dazed from the intensity of their make-out session. "Wait — what?"

Francesca tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "You heard me. That's it for tonight."

Linda stared at her, her body still thrumming with heat. "You're seriously just going to leave me like this?"

Francesca chuckled. "Mmmhmm. And you're still ready for this... relationship?" Her voice was teasing, but her eyes were sharp, watching Linda carefully.

Linda opened her mouth to answer, but no coherent words came out. She was too turned on, too caught in the frustration and excitement of Francesca's game. Francesca leaned in, pressing one last soft kiss to Linda's lips before pulling away completely.

"Think about it," Francesca said with a wink. Then, without another word, she slipped into the night, leaving Linda breathless — aching for more.

***

The next day, Francesca approached her. "Come over to my place tonight." It wasn't a question.

That evening, Linda arrived to find Francesca had prepared a gourmet dinner, complete with wine. The atmosphere was intimate, deliberate. Francesca's flat was in an old city house — easily pre-war, possibly a century old. Yet, despite its age, it was impeccably maintained, exuding quiet elegance.

They ate, their conversation weaving through lighthearted topics and deeper confessions. With each sip of wine, the tension between them thickened, simmering beneath their words like an unspoken dare.

Then, after the last drop of wine was drained, Francesca reached for Linda's hand. Then, she led her down the hallway, toward the bedroom.

At the doorway, Linda hesitated, suddenly aware of how unfamiliar this all felt — how unfamiliar she felt. The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching along the walls. But the moment Francesca stepped inside, she flicked off the last remaining light, plunging them into darkness.

Something shifted within Linda. Deprived of sight, every other sense sharpened — the soft rustle of fabric, the faint scent of wine and perfume, the warmth of Francesca's presence just inches away.

She took a steadying breath, and to her own surprise, her voice emerged steady, quiet, yet commanding.

"Sit on the edge of the bed."

A pause. Then, in the darkness, Linda heard Francesca obey.

There was a pause, then the faint rustle of movement as Francesca complied. The room was pitch black — so dark they couldn't see their own hands in front of their faces. Linda listened intently, waiting, sensing Francesca's presence more than seeing it.

A new boldness took hold of her. "Take off everything but your underwear and undershirt," she said. "Then get under the covers."

For a moment, there was silence, then the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting, zippers sliding, clothing being peeled away. Francesca complied without question, and Linda could hear her slipping under the covers.

Linda exhaled slowly, still standing there in the darkness. Then, just as quietly, she began removing her own clothes.

The moment they were both under the covers, Francesca's voice, smooth and certain, broke the silence. "We're going to kiss again for a while. Just like before."

Linda felt her breath catch. In the darkness, they reached for each other, their lips meeting in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was just as intoxicating as the night before — perhaps even more so now that they were both partially undressed.

After several lingering moments, Francesca murmured, "You can touch my face." Her fingers found Linda's cheek, tracing a soft, exploratory path.

Linda followed suit, brushing her fingertips over Francesca's jawline, her lips, her temple. The slow, careful caresses sent shivers down her spine. It was a lovely kind of torture.

But this time, Linda had more ideas. A hunger had been growing inside her, a need to push beyond the careful boundaries Francesca had set. She let her fingers drift lower, trailing down the column of Francesca's neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her touch. Francesca didn't stop her.

Encouraged, Linda whispered, "Can I touch more?" Her voice was hushed, hesitant but eager.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breath mingling in the dark. Then Francesca's voice came, softer this time. "Not yet. Just this for now."

It was both frustrating and thrilling. Linda felt like she wanted more. So she surrendered to the moment, to the slow, simmering tension, and they continued kissing, hands ghosting over each other's skin, exploring — but only within the limits Francesca allowed.

After several minutes — though it was impossible to tell exactly how long in the pitch-black room — Linda's voice came soft but firm. "Lie down on your stomach."

Francesca hesitated a moment before complying, shifting under the covers until she lay face down. The mattress dipped slightly as Linda adjusted beside her. Then, Francesca felt it — a light touch on her side, tracing up her ribs before settling gently on her back. A warm palm rested there, grounding her.

"Stay still," Linda murmured.

Francesca obeyed, anticipation curling inside her. Slowly, deliberately, Linda slipped her hand beneath Francesca's tee-shirt, her fingertips gliding over bare skin in slow, soothing strokes. The touch was gentle yet deliberate, each motion sending waves of warmth through Francesca's body.

"Do the same to me," Linda instructed.

Francesca turned slightly, finding Linda in the dark. Her hands slid beneath the fabric of Linda's shirt, discovering smooth, heated skin. Her fingers brushed against the strap of Linda's bra, then moved lower, exploring the curve of her waist, the dip of her back. Francesca could feel that Linda wore only her bra and panties, nothing more.

The slow, mirrored caresses deepened. Linda's hands wandered further, slipping under the band of Francesca's panties, fingertips grazing the soft flesh of her hips, then lower. Francesca followed suit, her own fingers tracing the same path, gripping and kneading as Linda did.

Then Linda's touch became more daring. Her hand slid between Francesca's cheeks, fingers teasing at the sensitive skin there. Francesca's breath hitched, her entire body tensing at the intimate intrusion. A beat later, Linda whispered, "Do the same."

Francesca's pulse pounded. There was a moment of hesitation, a sharp thrill of uncertainty, but then she obeyed, mirroring Linda's actions. The sensation was electric, the darkness amplifying every touch, every movement. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with breathless anticipation, with the slow burn of something neither of them could name just yet.

Francesca took her time, her hands firm yet teasing as she kneaded Linda's cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, her fingers ventured into the cleft of her ass, seeking out the sensitive ring of muscle. Linda's breath hitched — just a small, involuntary sound, but enough for Francesca to hear.

Francesca began pressing her finger inward, testing, exploring.

"Do it to me, too," she murmured.

Linda, caught somewhere between anticipation and surrender, reached for Francesca, mirroring her touch.

Soon, they each had a finger buried in the other's heat, their bodies moving closer, their breath mingling in the charged darkness.

Then Linda felt it — soft lips brushing against her cheek, searching. A slow, lingering kiss against her jaw. And then, finally, their mouths met, parting hungrily, tongues tangling in a deep, desperate kiss.

The absolute blackness made everything more intense. With no sight to rely on, every touch, every taste, every gasp of air between them felt magnified.

Their bodies pressed together, slick and warm, fingers still exploring, pushing deeper. Linda had no idea how much time had passed — minutes, hours? The darkness stole all sense of it. There was only sensation, the slow, intoxicating rhythm they had fallen into, and the delicious unknown of where Francesca would lead her next.

The sudden burst of light was blinding. Linda winced, her pupils struggling to adjust, but before she could take in more than a blur of Francesca's flushed face and tousled hair, Francesca pulled away, slipping her finger from Linda's body.

Linda exhaled shakily and followed suit, mirroring Francesca's movements.

A moment later, as her vision cleared, she saw Francesca reaching for something on the bedside table — a small jar of lubricant. She dipped a finger inside, coating it generously, then disappeared under the covers. Linda watched as her hand slid behind her own back, her expression unreadable.

Francesca glanced up and handed Linda the jar. "Do the same," she murmured.

Linda took it, scooping up the cool, slick substance. The sensation sent a shiver through her as she traced her fingers lower, following Francesca's instructions.

Before she could finish, the room was swallowed by darkness once again.

The absence of light was even more profound this time, as if the brief illumination had only emphasized how lost they were in this moment.

Then, from the dark, Francesca's voice came, soft and teasing.

"Now... come closer."

In the enveloping darkness, Linda felt Francesca's hand slip back into her underwear, fingers seeking, exploring. Then came the urgent whisper — raw, breathless.

"Put it in me again."

There was desperation in her voice, a need that sent a fresh surge of heat through Linda's body.

Linda didn't move. Instead, she stilled, her fingers pressing lightly against Francesca's wrist.

A pause.

Then, slowly, Linda took Francesca's hand and pulled it away from her body.

Francesca inhaled sharply. "Linda?"

Linda smiled in the dark, her voice low. "You're a controlling bitch, aren't you?"

She heard Francesca's breath catch — just for a second. It was subtle, but it was there. A flicker of uncertainty.

Before Francesca could answer, Linda moved.

She flipped their positions, pressing Francesca back against the bed. Her hands roamed deliberately, teasing but not giving in completely. Francesca reached for her, but Linda caught her wrists and pinned them above her head.

A soft laugh.

"But what if I control you instead?" Linda whispered against her ear.

Francesca squirmed, her usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Linda — "

"Shh."

Linda kissed her then, deep and slow. She let her lips hover just out of reach, making Francesca lean up to chase her. Then their mouths crashed together in another feverish kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling.

Linda's hand traveled downward, finding Francesca's waiting heat. She traced the curve of her ass, fingers slipping lower until she reached the slick entrance. Carefully, she pushed her finger inside, feeling Francesca shudder against her.

Francesca mirrored her, fingers teasing, pressing back into Linda's own tightness. They moved together, matching rhythm for rhythm, a slow and deliberate glide that sent waves of pleasure through them both.

Their breathing quickened. Linda could feel Francesca's breath on her lips — hot, uneven — until the intensity forced them apart, gasping.

Francesca's lips brushed against her ear, her voice husky, teasing.

"Does it turn you on?"

Linda hesitated. She understood Francesca was right on the edge.

"Shh."

She dragged her nails down Francesca's side, just light enough to make her squirm again. Francesca's breathing was uneven, her body struggling between wanting to resist and wanting to give in.

"You don't always get what you want," Linda murmured. "Not tonight."

"I didn't expect you to be like this," Francesca whined.

Then, Linda reached lower, not waiting for permission.

Francesca gasped, her body trembling. "Yes! Yes!" Her breath came faster, uneven, until finally, she shuddered with a long, quiet moan.

When it was over, they lay together in silence, their bodies still close but the urgency fading.

For the first time, Linda felt it — the power of making someone else wait. The power of watching them need.

***

In the morning they kissed lazily before finally getting up, stretching into the new day.

It was Saturday, so they took their time. Over breakfast, Francesca finally decided to bring it up.

"So," she said, stirring her coffee. "Let's talk about last night."

Linda hesitated for a beat, choosing her words carefully. "It was... unexpected." She met Francesca's gaze. "Not bad. Just... different."

Francesca chuckled. "I'll take 'different' over 'disappointing.'"

Linda smiled but pressed on. "It felt like you were more into it than I was."

Francesca didn't seem offended. She set her coffee down and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "That's possible."

Linda took another sip. "It's not that I didn't enjoy it. I did. But... I don't know, I guess I was expecting something else."

Francesca tilted her head, studying her. "What were you expecting?"

Linda shrugged. "Something less... technical, maybe?"

Francesca laughed softly. "Fair. I guess I do have a habit of analyzing things too much." She paused. "But I did enjoy it."

Linda considered that. The night had left her with questions — about Francesca, about herself. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

"Maybe," she admitted. "But I'd like it to feel more... natural."

Francesca nodded, thoughtful. Then, a playful glint flashed in her eyes. "So, what would feel natural to you?"

Linda smirked. "I guess we'll have to figure that out."

Francesca leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "Then I suggest an experiment."

Linda raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Francesca's lips curved into a slow smile. "I'd like to explore more, with you and Giovanni, my husband. He's coming soon — if you're interested of course."

Linda stirred her coffee, watching the swirl of cream dissolve into the dark liquid. Francesca's words hung between them, heavy with unspoken implications.

"Giovanni," Linda echoed, testing the name on her tongue. "I didn't realize you wanted to involve him."

Francesca studied her. "I want to share something with you, Linda. But only if it excites you. If it doesn't, we can leave it at that."

Linda hesitated. It wasn't that she was repulsed by the idea — there was something intriguing about Francesca's husband. But at the same time, Francesca exuded an aura of control, of calculation. How much of it was curiosity, and how much was manipulation?

She met Francesca's gaze. "I don't know if that's for me."

Francesca smiled. "That's fair." She leaned back, stretching lazily. "But I think you'd like him. He has a certain... presence."

Linda smirked. "You mean he's dangerously charming?"

Francesca laughed. "Something like that." She tilted her head, studying Linda. "You don't have to decide now. Just... think about it."

Linda wasn't sure she wanted to. But she was intrigued.

She took a sip of her coffee, letting the warmth settle in her chest. Then, after a pause, she asked, "Do you want Giovanni to have sex with me?"

Francesca didn't flinch. She simply smiled, unbothered by the directness. "I'd like to watch Giovanni with another woman," she admitted. "And you, Linda, would do just nicely."

A slow flush crept up Linda's neck. She wasn't used to this level of frankness, the effortless way Francesca spoke of sex as if it were as simple as ordering a drink.

"I — I don't know. I have to go home," Linda said, grasping for an answer that would put distance between her and the moment.

Francesca's expression didn't change. She only watched as Linda reached for her purse and stood, smoothing down her dress.

Before turning to leave, Linda hesitated — just for a second — then leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to Francesca's cheek.

Francesca's lips barely moved, but her voice was a whisper against Linda's skin. "Just think about it."

Linda walked away without looking back.

At home, she tried to push the conversation from her mind. But no matter what she did — it lingered. The words, the suggestion, the quiet confidence in Francesca's voice.

And the worst part? She wasn't just thinking about Francesca's proposal. She was imagining it.

Giovanni's hands on her skin. Francesca watching, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

It was all so strange. Linda had never thought about sex this much — not in years. Not with this kind of intensity.

Two days passed.

A message arrived just before noon.

Francesca: Lunch? Same place.

Linda stared at the screen, her pulse quickening.

Linda could ignore it. She could pretend none of this had happened, that Francesca's words hadn't lodged themselves in some dark corner of her mind.

But she didn't.

She was already slipping on her shoes, already heading out the door.

Francesca was waiting for her at the restaurant, a glass of white wine in front of her. She smiled as Linda approached, not surprised in the least.

"I knew you'd come," Francesca said, setting her glass down.

Linda slid into the seat across from her. "Did you?"

Francesca tilted her head, studying her. "You wouldn't have been able to resist thinking about it. And once it's in your head, well... you were always going to find out where it led."

"And where is that, exactly?"

"I'm coming to your house tonight. And you're going to follow my instructions exactly."

Linda stiffened. "Instructions?"

"Yes. If we're going to do this, Linda, you have to trust me. No hesitations. No half-measures."

"I don't know if I can promise that."

Francesca regarded her for a moment, then asked, "Are you nervous?"

Linda let out a quiet laugh. "Of course I am."

"That's natural," Francesca said. "But you'll do well enough."

Linda exhaled, glancing at the table. "What exactly are you expecting me to do?"

Francesca lifted her glass, taking a slow sip before answering. "Nothing you won't enjoy. Nothing you won't remember for a long, long time."

The words sent a shiver down Linda's spine.

Francesca set her glass down and met her eyes. "Promise me, Linda. Say it — you'll do exactly as I say."

Linda hesitated. The directness of it made her uneasy. She wasn't sure if it was Francesca's authority, or the way she made it sound inevitable.

Francesca didn't press, just watched her, waiting. Then, as if sensing her hesitation, she added, "Giovanni is going to love this. He really has the hots for you."

"What?"

Francesca smiled. "Oh yes. He's wanted you for a long time. Since the very day you arrived at college."

Linda felt a flicker of disbelief. "I don't even remember meeting him back then."

"He remembers you," Francesca said simply.

The thought unsettled her, but there was something thrilling about it, too.

Francesca held out her hand, palm up, waiting. "Say it, Linda."

Linda hesitated a moment longer, then, with only the barest trace of confidence, murmured, "Okay."

Francesca smiled, satisfied.

"I'll pick you up tonight," she said.

At exactly 7 PM, Francesca arrived.

Linda had expected hesitation, second thoughts — but when she stepped outside and slid into Francesca's sleek car, there was nothing but the steady pulse of anticipation.

Neither of them spoke much on the drive. Francesca hummed along softly to the music playing in the background, a subtle smile on her lips, as if the evening were unfolding exactly as she had planned.

Linda, on the other hand, couldn't quite relax.

When they arrived at Francesca's house, she was immediately led inside and down a hallway.

"No Giovanni?" Linda asked.

Francesca shook her head. "Not yet. You'll see him soon enough."

She opened a door and handed Linda a small stack of clothes. "Change in the bathroom."

Linda took them hesitantly and stepped inside.

As she unfolded the outfit, she frowned. A long-sleeved green top — surprisingly modest. The black pants, however, were another story. Tight-fitting, hugging every curve.

She slipped into them, then turned to the mirror. The outfit was oddly balanced. From the waist down, her shape was obvious. From the waist up, completely hidden.

Her fingers grazed the fabric over her stomach as she studied herself. This wasn't what she had expected.

When she stepped out, Francesca's eyes flickered over her with satisfaction.

"Perfect," Francesca murmured.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd pick something... I don't know, sexier?"

Francesca chuckled. "Seduction isn't always about what you show. Sometimes, it's about what you leave to the imagination."

Linda wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse.

Francesca took her by the wrist, leading her down the hall.

In the living room, Giovanni was waiting.

He was tall, with sharp features and dark, knowing eyes. He stood as they entered, his expression warm but composed.

"Linda," he greeted smoothly. "It's nice to finally see you again."

Linda swallowed. "You remember me?"

A small smile touched his lips. "Of course."

She didn't know what she had expected — some obvious hunger in his eyes, perhaps. A hint of predatory interest.

But Giovanni was completely at ease, confident without arrogance. He didn't leer. He didn't push.

He was gracious.

Which somehow made this all the more disorienting.

Linda glanced at Francesca, but she simply smiled, settling onto the couch like a queen arranging her court.

"Have a seat," Francesca said smoothly. "Let's enjoy a drink first."

Linda hesitated for only a moment before lowering herself onto the couch opposite Giovanni.

Her heart was beating faster now.

This was happening.

And she still wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Francesca's voice was smooth, unyielding. "Kneel," she said.

Linda's breath hitched. She looked between them — Giovanni standing calmly, Francesca watching her with quiet expectation.

A slow, measured beat passed.

Then Linda edged forward, sinking to her knees.

She hesitated, looking up at Giovanni. His expression was unreadable, a small, knowing smile curving his lips. It wasn't arrogance, nor was it mockery. It was something else entirely — something that made her pulse quicken.

Francesca leaned in slightly, her voice softer now. "Go on."

Linda reached up, her fingers brushing against the fabric, the act feeling impossibly intimate. The zipper slid down smoothly, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet room.

Francesca exhaled as if pleased, but she said nothing more.

Linda wasn't sure what she had expected, but she wasn't prepared for how deliberate each moment felt, how aware she was of every breath, every flicker of movement. The atmosphere had shifted into something heavier, more charged.

Francesca's tone turned almost teasing. "Use your mouth."

Linda swallowed. She wasn't inexperienced, but this was different. The setting. The dynamic. The way Francesca watched, her presence turning something familiar into something entirely new.

She hesitated for only a moment longer before leaning in, letting instinct take over.

A quiet exhale escaped Giovanni as he responded to her touch. Linda felt the shift, the subtle build of tension. His fingers found her hair, not forcing, simply resting, tracing patterns against her scalp.

Francesca murmured something — encouragement, perhaps — but Linda barely registered it. She was too focused on the way Giovanni's breathing changed, how his control faltered bit by bit.

When he finally shuddered, his fingers tightening briefly in her hair, Francesca's voice was there again, soft but firm. "Finish."

Linda did.

The moment stretched, lingering between them. Giovanni's breathing slowed, his body relaxing, and Linda found herself watching his face.

Satisfaction. Amusement. Something else — something deeper.

Francesca leaned back, crossing her legs with effortless grace. A satisfied smile played on her lips.

"See?" she murmured. "I told you he'd like you."

Linda exhaled, still kneeling, still caught in the gravity of the moment. Her pulse was steadying, but something deeper had shifted, something she couldn't quite name.

Giovanni buttoned his trousers with an air of quiet amusement, then reached down, offering Linda a hand. She hesitated before taking it, letting him pull her to her feet. His fingers lingered for a moment — just long enough for her to notice.

"Very nice," Francesca said, her tone almost casual, but something in the way she watched Linda made the words feel heavier.

And for some strange reason, Linda felt... pleased.

She shouldn't have. The whole situation was surreal — kneeling in front of a man while another woman watched, orchestrating the scene as if it were her own private entertainment. But there was no denying the warmth in Francesca's voice, the approval in her eyes. It unsettled Linda more than the act itself.

What was going on here?

Francesca stood, smoothing her dress. "I'll take you home," she said, as if this were just another ordinary evening.

They drove in silence for a while. The air between them felt charged, not with tension, but with something unspoken.

As they pulled up to Linda's house, Francesca turned to her, eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Tomorrow night," she said. "I'll pick you up again."

Linda swallowed. "Tomorrow?"

Francesca smiled. "Yes. Tomorrow, you and Giovanni will fuck."

Linda flinched. She rarely used that word herself — it felt too crude, too raw — but Francesca said it so easily, so deliberately, as if testing the way it would land.

And it did land.

Linda nodded, barely trusting her own voice. "Okay."

She stepped out of the car and walked inside, locking the door behind her. But the quiet of her home did nothing to calm her mind.

Tomorrow night.

She crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts wouldn't slow.

What was she doing? What had she already done?

And why did the thought of tomorrow make her pulse quicken instead of stop?

***

Linda found herself returning night after night, slipping further into the world Francesca had drawn her into.

Each evening brought something new — something she never would have imagined herself doing.

The first time Giovanni took her from behind, Francesca had whispered encouragements, her voice a low hum of satisfaction.

When Francesca had instructed Giovanni to spank her, Linda had hesitated. But the sharp crack of his palm against her skin sent a thrill through her, one she hadn't expected.

One night, Francesca had told her to stand in the corner, facing the wall, completely ignored as the two of them carried on without her. Linda should have felt humiliated, but instead, she found herself trembling with anticipation, listening to the sounds of their pleasure behind her, waiting — aching — to be noticed again.

And then there was the night Francesca handed her a camera and told her to film herself. "Touch yourself," she had murmured, reclining nearby, one hand slipping beneath the silk of her robe. "I want to see you lost in it."

Linda had done it. She had watched herself through the lens, watched her own hands move across her body while Francesca watched too, her eyes dark and knowing.

And it wasn't just Linda who was exposed. Francesca would undress sometimes, letting her robe slip from her shoulders as she lounged on the chaise. Linda had caught glimpses of her, fingers teasing over her own skin, a soft sigh escaping as she watched Linda and Giovanni together.

It should have felt strange. It should have felt wrong.

But it didn't.

One night, Linda stayed. Not just for an hour, not just for an evening — but the whole night, naked between them in bed, their bodies tangled together.

She belonged here now.

Giovanni took her like she was his wife, and Linda gave herself to him with abandon.

Francesca curled beside them, her presence a constant, her hands just as knowing.

And somehow, it became their new reality.

Linda barely recognized herself.

By the time she realized it, Linda had already moved in.

Francesca was a perfect housekeeper, eager to please, eager to obey. Linda had trained her well — had made sure she knew exactly what was expected of her.

And when she needed reminding?

Well, Giovanni had found a little whip from somewhere. And Francesca took it beautifully.

Linda never would have imagined this life.

But now, she couldn't imagine anything else.

***

At first, Linda didn't notice the shift. The nights blurred together — Francesca's quiet instructions, Giovanni's hunger, the way Linda had begun to anticipate what they wanted before they even asked. It had become easy, effortless.

But then, small things started to change.

Francesca stopped undressing when Linda and Giovanni were together. She still watched, still murmured her approval, but there was a distance now. A coolness.

Giovanni, too, seemed different. He was still kind, still eager, but sometimes, after they were finished, he'd turn away and fall asleep without a word. No lazy conversation, no teasing. Just silence.

Linda told herself she was imagining it. But she wasn't.

One evening, after dinner, Francesca touched Linda's wrist lightly and said, "I think you should sleep at your place tonight."

Linda blinked, caught off guard. "Oh. Okay."

No explanation followed. And maybe that was the explanation.

The next night, Francesca didn't invite her over. Nor the night after that.

And Linda... didn't ask why.

She already knew.

It was over.

One evening, weeks later, Linda passed Francesca on campus. She wasn't alone — Giovanni walked beside her, arm draped around her shoulders. He said something, and she laughed, tilting her head against him. They didn't see Linda. Or if they did, they gave no sign.

Linda stood there for a moment, watching them disappear into the crowd.

She exhaled, adjusted the strap of her bag, and walked the other way.

It had lasted for a time. And for that time, it had felt like it might last forever.

But of course, it didn't.

And maybe, she thought, it was never meant to.