The Triumph of Venus

Orientation hit like a fire hose at full blast—sessions, tours, and icebreakers inflicted nonstop. The day was basically a hot walk in the sun in between fold-up canopies. Whichever overzealous faculty committee designed this monstrous schedule was either delusional or sociopathic.

In between the constant stream of activities, I slipped back into my dorm to decompress. My roommates were decent enough guys. The three of us squeezed into a tiny room were slowly feeling each other out, although none of us seemed particularly eager to initiate. Aside from ending up at the same college, we didn’t have much in common. The space was filled with quiet unpacking, broken up by choppy bits of small talk.

Jennie, on the other hand, was thriving. Her dorm was fifteen minutes across campus, but I don’t think she spent more than five of them in her actual room. I watched from a distance as she bounced from group to group like she’d been there for years.

She’d always been fit (her whole family was athletic), but over senior year she had really begun to develop into a woman. Her slender, fawn-like frame had blossomed with swaying hips and protruding breasts. Clothes seemed to fit her differently. With little regard for subtlety, the hallways paused and turned as she passed.

It wasn’t just the students that year who noticed, faculty did too. I never saw any of it firsthand, but I held her more than once as she sobbed, recounting stories of men we trusted making inappropriate advances. She’d speak through tears, struggling with guilt, as if she somehow invited it. I always listened, quietly, without judgment. Speaking up only to defuse the occasional spiral of self-blame. But, I didn’t have answers.

And yet, despite everything, Jennie still glowed. It wasn’t a fragile kind of brightness, either. It was something stubborn, radiant despite everything. It became even more apparent on the larger university campus. Her bubbly, inquisitive personality was magnetic. Anyone who spoke with her for more than five minutes became a new friend.

So it was no surprise when, after just one day, she got us invited to a pool party.

The sun hadn’t let up, even with autumn just around the corner. Plenty of bare skin was showing, especially from people with no intention of getting in the pool. Still, I felt distinctly pubescent and out of place in my swim trunks.

Jennie elbowed me. “Ready to lose again?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. This was her thing, a dumb little game. Every time we swam together she instigated a breath-holding contest. No prizes, no real stakes. Just the two of us underwater in a silent battle of wills. She had great breath control from years of early morning workouts. Me? Not so much.

“One... two... three—” she grinned that crazy little grin, the one that always meant she was about to beat me in something. Splash! I took a deep breath and followed suit.

Underwater, the chaos surrounding the sun-bleached concrete and teak pergolas melted away. No frat bros shouting, no bass thumping from some abused Bluetooth speaker. Just blue-tinted quiet as light danced across our skin. Jennie floated opposite me, her long blonde hair drifting like seaweed, eyes wide and playful. Even through the blur of my terrible underwater vision, I could make out the curve of her smile, the mischievous twitch of her eyebrows as she pointed towards the surface. First one up loses! I let out a silent laugh, which made my lungs burn almost immediately. She was so serious about the dumbest things, but always with that sparkle in her eye that made me second-guess her intentions.

Then it happened.

Two strong arms plunged into the water from above, wrapping around her waist and yanking her upward. I blinked, stunned. In a swirl of bubbles, she was gone.

I broke the surface an instant later. Jennie was laughing, water streaming down her face as a tall figure hoisted her up in the air. He had a tan, muscular body, a confident posture, and dark eyes that crinkled at the edges from smiling too much in the sun. There was a natural flirtation to his smile, but something dangerous brewed underneath. If not for the bold white LIFEGUARD across his tank top, I would’ve guessed he would be the one dunking people in the pool, not saving them.

“I thought you were drowning,” he said in a deep voice, speaking to Jennie with mock concern. “Didn’t want you missing the party tonight.”

She held onto his thick forearms, clearly enjoying the moment. “We were just playing!” She giggled and looked at me like I was part of the joke. “Mark, meet Tanner. He’s been showing me around campus.”

I nodded stiffly, suddenly very aware of how scrawny I must look next to this guy. He glanced at me for the first time. Something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe?

“What’s up, buddy?” he said, smirking. Then without missing a beat. “You got a hot girlfriend.” He set Jennie back down in the water.

My throat tightened as she laughed a little too loudly. I opened my mouth to correct him, but she beat me to it.

“Oh, we’re not dating. Mark and I are just best friends.” She smiled and touched my shoulder, like a consolation prize.

I nodded too fast. My voice came out dry. “Yeah. Just friends.” Lungs constricted, my first instinct was to dunk my head back underneath the cool, shimmering surface of the pool.

Tanner didn’t seem to notice, he was focusing on the commotion behind me. A group of guys made their presence known as they stepped out from the clubhouse and onto the deck. Shirtless and in muscle tees, they sported mirrored sunglasses and backwards baseball hats. Every visible scrap of clothing seemed to bear the bold, blocky Greek letters of Kappa Alpha Psi.

“Lifeguard, we need your help! We’re drowning in pussy!” one of them shouted, and the whole group exploded with laughter.

Tanner shot a wide grin back. He gave Jennie a squeeze. “Gotta run. I’ll see you tonight.”

But, before he could slip away, Jennie grabbed his hand with both of hers. God, her fingers looked so dainty wrapped around his.

“Can Mark come?” she asked, giving him her big doe eyes. Such a look would have liquefied me. He threw a glance at me and then back to his friends.

“Fine, but the gender ratio might be fucked. You owe me.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious until he gave her a wink. Then, with one fluid motion, he grabbed the coping and hauled himself out. He was gone.

Jennie turned to me, practically glowing. “Tanner’s been super nice! I think you’ll like him.” She started wading toward the ladder. I followed in silence, still trying to swallow the knot in my throat. Maybe I imagined it, but I could’ve sworn his hand had lingered on her ass. No way she’d let that slide… right?

As we dried off together, her swimsuit clung to her body in a way that made it impossible not to notice. The sunlight caught her smooth, glistening skin. She looked effortless. A bulge immediately formed in my own swimsuit. I quickly turned my gaze to the water, trying desperately to will it away. Still, I couldn’t break free. Her scent was just as intoxicating as her appearance—sunscreen and chlorine, sure, but something sweet and floral underneath. A new lotion, maybe.

“Look, I gotta go home and get changed. Wanna come over around six?” She had already grabbed her phone and was swiping through notifications.

“Yeah, sure!” I heard myself say enthusiastically. I nonchalantly held the towel in front of me, but it didn’t matter, Jennie was already walking away.

“Okay, hurry up and get changed. Then meet at mine!”

I showed up at Jennie’s dorm feeling rushed, uncomfortable, and slightly bloated. I'd grabbed fast food on the way and scarfed it down in the car. She greeted me still in her swimsuit with her thumbs on her phone. It didn’t look like she started to get ready at all.

“You will not believe what Tanner just texted me,” she said, eyes lighting up. “It’s a toga party!”

I’d heard of those—more or less code for drunken chaos in less clothes. The idea stirred something primal in me, sure, but overall it left me confused. Wasn’t this the exact kind of thing Jennie used to roll her eyes at?

The small, low entrance of her dorm opened immediately into the common area. LED lights strung across the ceiling gave the room a soft glow. The high-pile carpet looked freshly vacuumed, and an ocean-scented candle flickered on the coffee table amidst trinkets and stacked magazines. An apparent roommate glanced up from her spot on the couch and smirked.

“Oh, is this your friend?” she asked, eyes tracing over me like I was a lab experiment. “So adorable.”

Jennie just giggled in response. I gave a nervous laugh, trying to play it cool. Adorable? Was that good? Patronizing? I didn’t get the chance to ask; Jennie had already left behind her lingering scent as she disappeared around the corner.

Following her to her room, I saw she’d already plopped down on the bed, still texting. I hesitated in the doorway. Maybe it was just the limited dorm space, but this didn’t feel like her room. Her debate trophies were gone. So were the goofy (but adorable) soccer head shots. In their place: rows of makeup product, clothes draped across the comforter like a fashion show mid-change, and a shoe rack crammed behind the door.

Something came over me.

“I don’t think we should go to this toga party,” I blurted out.

Jennie looked at me and sighed, and then went back to her phone. I pressed on, already in too deep.

“Haven’t you always said fraternities promote toxic behavior and enforce gender roles? You know those guys will say anything to hook up with a hot girl.” I motioned towards her.

She rolled her eyes, catching the compliment. Emboldened, I cleared a small spot on the comforter and sat down beside her.

“You’re better than that, Jennie. You’re special. I don’t want to see you—”

“Listen carefully.” Her voice cut straight through mine. She finally put her phone down and met my eyes. “Tanner’s not like that. Him and his friends? They’re actually really cool. You don’t know them.”

I hadn’t expected her to defend him, at least not like that.

Her tone softened, but it remained just as sharp. “I think you’re jealous because you need me to get you into a party.”

I recoiled slightly, an unconscious defensive mechanism. Those words stung more than I wanted to admit. I opened my mouth, but she kept on steaming ahead.

“And by the way,” she added, narrowing her eyes, “I saw you staring at my body by the pool. Don’t act like you’re some noble guy above it all. Just because you have a pervy mind doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

Red filled my cheeks as I looked down at my lap, mumbling something that didn’t make any sense. If she only knew how I felt about her.

“We’re going.” Jennie said with finality. She let out a breath and turned to her nightstand, preoccupied. She was searching for something.

There had been a moment, early in the summer, when I thought things were changing between us. We were inseparable, spending every day together. I thought maybe, just maybe, it was finally happening. That this fall, emerging from the constricting bubble of the suburbs, we’d finally admit feelings for each other. Our first kiss would come organically, beautifully even. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I even imagined how I’d tell my parents over winter break: Jennie and I were finally together.

“So what color?” she asked, procuring two bottles of nail polish—one pink, one white—and wiggling her toes. Reality snapped back into focus.

“Pink, much more diva.”

She giggled, setting the white one down. As she unscrewed the cap, the flicker of a new thought crossed her face.

“Do you think I’m a diva?” She sounded playful, but in the same way that fireworks are. I reached for the first thing that didn’t sound like an insult.

“You’re the only diva I care about.”

It sounded clingy the second I said it. She snorted and covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh. It hurt, but at least this was better than her pointed accusations.

“Alright, enough jokes. Tanner said the party starts at seven so we should hurry. Can you paint my toes while I do my makeup?”

Me? I blinked. I’d never used nail polish on myself, let alone on someone else. Jennie and I used to laugh at the kind of girls who spend time with chemicals and tiny brushes just to feel pretty. Her bare feet dangled casually off the bed; they already looked perfect to me. I didn’t realize I was staring until she waved her hand in front of my face.

“Earth to Mark!” she said, handing me the chunky glass bottle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. It'll be dark soon anyways.”

Without a second thought, I got down on the floor and started to work. Her skin was warm and soft; even her calluses were smooth. I kept adjusting, trying to keep her slender leg steady as I focused on painting inside the delicate contours of her nail plates.

She hardly noticed. Her attention was on the mirror, tracing thick eyeliner with practiced precision. The reflection caught every flick of her wrist. She looked different. Older. Like a version of Jennie I hadn’t met before.

When we finished, she handed me a repurposed bed sheet—a makeshift toga.

“Go change in the bathroom,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the entry.”

“Ok.”

I ducked into the adjacent restroom which was small and cramped. My shorts dropped to the floor as I pulled the toga over my head. It was evidently made for someone bigger. My reflection in the mirror appeared awkward and ungainly. Leaning closer, I noticed there was an unmistakable pimple developing above my eyebrow. Of course.

I could easily imagine how Tanner’s own toga must fit him. Probably like a statue; his tall, muscular body looked like it was practically sculpted from marble anyways.

Shoving that thought aside, I stepped into the hall with my balled up shorts in hand. Jennie’s door was closed, so I continued into the living room. Her roommate was flipping through a People magazine, still on the couch. She looked up and offered a polite smile.

“So you guys are going to Kappa Alpha Psi tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I picked up a seashell from the coffee table and began to trace its uniform ridges.

“Those boys are wild.” She chuckled and gave me a sympathetic look. “Keep an eye on Jennie, though. Once a girl gets a taste for someone who takes what they want…”

She offered me a wistful smile.

“... she usually can’t help herself.”

Before I could respond, Jennie seemed to materialize beside me. She looked refreshed, like the hours socializing by the pool had somehow replenished her battery. Her toga was sheer and clung to her body like it had been custom-made. A delicate gold chain hung low around her hips. Her legs glowed under the warm string lights. She wore black gladiator sandals laced halfway up her toned calves. And her toes, bright pink and painted by my trembling hands, somehow completed the look.

I set the shell down gently.

“You driving?” she asked, nodding towards the door.

The party was so massive it had swallowed the entire street. Bodies were jammed in the front yard and spilled onto the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder. Music, loud conversation, and raucous laughter permeated the warm evening air, making it buzz.

I set the transmission in park a couple blocks away. Jennie turned on the overhead light and flipped down the visor mirror, leaning forward to reapply a translucent layer of lip gloss.

We then started to make our way down the block, passing through groups of partygoers. Jennie moved with an unwavering confidence, cutting a path through the throng like it parted for her. It was easy to follow in her wake.

From the outside, the house looked like any other on the block: an old Victorian-style manor, reconverted into separate dorms to accommodate the ever-growing college population.

As we got to the porch, I spotted a few guys in backwards hats and muscle tees near the door. They were tall, very built, and decidedly in charge of who got to cross the threshold. I didn’t know any of them, nor did I expect to. Their dark eyes swept over us: quick, dismissive. I slowed my pace, hanging back near the railing while Jennie strode up to them unflinchingly.

“We know Tanner,” I heard her say, her voice smooth, undoubtedly paired with that same charismatic smile that had gotten us into the pool party. The largest guy, his sunglasses still on despite the fading light, leaned in and murmured something. Jennie's eyes flicked towards me as she moved her lips. I shifted uncomfortably in my stiff toga. The knot kept slipping.

Jennie made her way back towards me, seemingly crestfallen. She grabbed my hand and held it in hers reassuringly, but the words that followed cut the opposite way.

“Look, babes... they said the ratio’ll be off if you come in.”

My stomach dropped.

“What does that even mean?” I asked boldly, trying to play it off. “Doesn’t that prove they only want to get into your pants? Or, uh—your toga?”

The joke landed with a dull thud.

Jennie’s face twisted and she let go of my hand. “Seriously, Mark? This again?”

I lowered my eyes, heat rising in my cheeks.

“Just come back in a couple hours, okay? It’s not the end of the world.” Her tone was clipped now. “The party will still be going and you can meet me then.”

She adjusted the toga around her shoulder and spun towards the front door without another word. I stood there for a moment and pretended not to notice the guys watching me closely. Then, I turned and made my way back down the street, slipping through the crowd alone this time. Every bump, every laugh around me felt personal.

By the time I reached the car, the sky had shifted from dusky pink to deep gray. I climbed in and shut the door quickly, sealing out the residual noise. The sudden quiet contrasted sharply with my whirring thoughts. It felt like, for the first time in forever, I was completely alone.

I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes.

A distant car alarm jolted me awake. My heart thudded as I sat up, covered in a sticky sheen of sweat. It was dark, and the air was thick and warm. For a brief moment, I didn’t know where I was.

The driver’s seat creaked as I shifted, rubbing my eyes. I turned the key in the ignition to check the time. Nothing. Dead silence. I tried again. Still nothing. Then I noticed the overhead light switch; it was still flipped on. Shit. It must have drained the battery. I fished my phone from the folds of my toga. Its screen lit the car's interior like a flare: 11:30! I’d been out for over four hours. My whole body ached. Whatever social energy I had before my nap was completely gone.

The cooler night air felt good on my skin as I stepped out of the car. Through my sandals, warmth still radiated from asphalt that had baked under the sun. Adjusting the toga around my waist, I glanced down the street. The neighborhood had quieted; the chaos must have moved inside. I could picture Jennie there, full of liquid courage.

Screw the battery. I slammed the car door shut before I could reevaluate my decisions and started taking long strides down the sidewalk.

As I neared the manor again, the music grew louder, vibrating through the ground like a low-grade tremor. The porch was still packed, but to my relief, the steroid-laden bouncers were nowhere in sight. I made my way across the vast deck and slipped in through the front door.

The entryway was grandiose, albeit dim. Light came from a large chandelier that shimmered with crystals, though half were missing. High, exposed beams loomed above. Polished wood wainscoting lined the walls, relinquishing to wallpaper that bloomed with patterns of deep burgundy and maroon—colors that might have once danced but now were muted under layers of dust. In gilded, ostentatious frames were photos of previous fraternity chapters; rows of serious men, one after another. A tall, mirror-backed cabinet in the corner encased a collection of ambiguous trophies, a faint crack running the entire length of the front, cut-glass panel.

The herringbone pattern on the floor was covered in palm leaves, sticky from spilled beverages. Faux marble columns flanked the staircase and plastic vines twisted along the banister—a half-baked attempt at recreating ancient Athens.

Although there were still pockets of conversation, it seemed as if the majority of the party was deeper; further into the bowels of the manor. Beyond a dark dining room that opened up to my right, light and music spilled from what looked to be the kitchen. I spotted an array of half-eaten charcuterie platters and gaudy, colorful bottles of alcohol. At the table, backwards hats and sunglasses were taking shots. The bouncers!

I turned toward the stairs before I could be spotted. I assumed the bedrooms were on the second floor, and something in my gut told me Jennie would be there. Grabbing the intricate wrought iron railing, I took the steps two at a time, brushing past a couple tangled in each other on the landing.

The top of the staircase opened up into a long hallway. Floorboards groaned underfoot as I forged ahead. Heavy, framed doors stood cracked open, each revealing glimpses into private worlds. One room filled with smoke and trance music, another buzzing with low, intimate murmurs. A third blared a football game, announcers loudly discussing the next play.

Suddenly, a door flung open. A trio of guys stumbled out, laughing too loud, stinking of sweat, alcohol, and the cologne they used to try and cover the first two.

I gathered myself and interjected. “Which room is Tanner’s?”

Without really looking, one of them gestured toward the end of the hall—a door just like any other. A thick, ornate plaque hung above it, carved from the same polished wood as the rest of the house. Sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus. I recognized it as Latin, which didn’t seem like Tanner’s style. The group had already vanished down the stairwell before I could clarify.

I walked over and paused in front of the door. There were no sounds from inside, just the muffled party ambiance that permeated through seemingly every surface. My hand hovered over the doorknob.

I took a deep breath and flung it open.

It must have been the master, because the bedroom was even larger than I expected. A sprawling rug dominated the center of the space, its intricate pattern woven in deep reds and golds that seemed to illuminate the room. A large four-poster bed sat brooding in the corner. On it, decorative pillows were arranged neatly, reminiscent of my grandmother’s guest bedroom. Posters on the wall peeled at the corners, their edges curled like dried petals. A denim jacket hung off a desk chair just carelessly enough to feel natural. It all felt curated.

Tanner sat on a long leather couch near the middle of the room, legs spread wide, posture relaxed like a king at court. And there, stretched across his lap, was Jennie.

She lit up when she saw me. “You’re here!”

I could hear the slur in Jennie’s voice from all of those two words. Her toga had shifted, now more of a suggestion than a piece of clothing. Her breasts practically spilled out. Face flushed and with a smile too wide, her head rested on his stomach. She reached out lazily, fingers curling in the air like she expected me to come take her hand.

I stepped forward, slow and unsure. Everything felt muffled, like I was underwater again—my body moving, but not by choice. Tanner nodded once toward the door. I don’t know why, but I turned to close it behind me, the soft click louder than everything else in the room.

I couldn’t help but stare at Tanner. One hand casually scrolled through his phone, while the other rested on Jennie’s uncovered ass like it belonged there.

“You showed up just in time,” he said, finally glancing at me. “I was just getting ready to show Jennifer here how she could be helpful.”

A pit opened up in my stomach. Jennie cut in quickly, her bubbly candor contrasted sharply to his slick, cool demeanor.

“Look,” she said, giggling, “what he means is, he’s going to teach me how to make guys go crazy.” She laughed again, uncontrollably this time—tipsy, flushed, glowing. She reached out for my hand again, and being close enough to touch it this time, I grabbed it. Her fingers were damp with sweat or condensation or both, but they felt electric in mine. I wondered what was going through her head.

“Sit over there,” Tanner said, vaporizing our little moment. He nodded to a sagging armchair in the corner, half-buried underneath a pile of dusty textbooks. “You might learn a thing or two.”

I stubbornly kept my eyes locked on Jennie. Feeling her touch made me slightly braver. If I didn’t acknowledge him, maybe he’d disappear. Maybe all of this would. Then, Jennie’s look changed.

“Go ahead,” she said softly. Her hand slipped out of mine.

My head was spinning. I crossed the room slowly, picking up the books without really seeing them, and sat down stiffly in the chair. It smelled faintly of mildew and old sweat. By the time I was situated, Tanner had started to pull aside his toga. Jennie’s face was only inches away. It was all happening so fast.

I caught Jennie’s eye, and gave her a pleading look. Please don’t do this.

She held my gaze—then broke it, proceeding to part her lips.

Tanner began to shift beneath her, his hips tilting up just enough to press his swollen head against her tongue. Her eyelids fluttered—recognizing its shape. She leaned forward slightly in anticipation but didn’t close her mouth. Instead, her tongue started to explore the underside of his shaft, careful and tentative.

He adjusted his position on the couch again, revealing the full extent of his magnificent member. But, the careless buck of his hips poked Jennie’s throat unexpectedly. She pulled back, tiny coughs into her hand as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him. “It’s just so big…”

Tanner smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Just try your best.”

She nodded quickly, too quickly. Her movements turned mechanical, like she was trying to please coach during practice. She laid her head back down on his abdomen, closed her eyes tight and opened her mouth again, surrendering.

This time he took control. He gripped the base of his cock and fed it into her mouth slowly, an inch at a time. Her lips closed softly around it. About halfway in, he paused. Her nostrils flared slightly as she took careful, drawn out breaths through her nose. Her lips began to tremble against his shaft. I shifted in my chair uncomfortably.

“Hold it,” he said firmly.

His command froze not just her—but me too. I felt paralyzed, like I was watching the scene from above. The muffled sounds of the party seemed to fade away and all I could hear was her breathing. It was shallow and wet, as saliva was no doubt starting to collect in her mouth. Her knuckles tightened around the loose fabric of his toga. She was trying to be still, waiting patiently for his next words.

He began petting her hair in slow, calming motions, like she was a pet doing a trick. Her athletic body now seemed strangely small and fragile. Draped across his lap she looked more like a fashion accessory than a human being.

Then, without warning he grabbed a handful of her hair and began pushing her down further. Jennie inhaled abruptly, gagging. Her body jolted instinctively, her hands bracing against his large thighs as she tried to lift herself up. Spittle and drool escaped with each exhale, running down the side of his shaft and onto his hand.

“Stop, you’re hurting her!” I was already halfway off the chair before I even knew I’d spoken.

Tanner rolled his eyes and raised both hands mockingly, letting go of her head like he’d been falsely accused. Jennie shot up from his lap, gasping for air, coughing, her mouth and chin coated with saliva.

“Jennie…” I said, stepping toward her. “Are you okay? Are you—”

“I’m fine,” she rasped, with a meek smile. “I’m having fun.” Her voice feigned enthusiasm, but her eyes revealed something sharp. Annoyance? Embarrassment? Resentment?

“I can handle it,” she added quickly, wiping her mouth.

Tanner leaned back lazily, watching us both with mild amusement. “But can Mark?” he asked, tilting his head toward me. “If this is too much for you, you can leave.”

I stood there awkwardly between the chair and the couch, unable to respond. My eyes flicked between him, Jennie, and the door. I didn’t want to stay, but I didn’t want to leave her, either.

Tanner stood and adjusted his toga, giving me a cold, unreadable look. “I’m gonna grab a beer. If you’re still here when I get back then you're staying.” He left the room heavy with tension.

Jennie rose from the couch and stepped closer. Her voice was low, firm, rehearsed.

“Mark, it’s fine. This is just college, okay? Things get crazy. It’s part of the experience.” She seemed to be talking quite clearly now.

“But it looked like he was hurting you.” I kept my voice low.

She glanced toward the cracked door, then back at me. “Yeah. Maybe. But he’s… more experienced than the guys from high school.”

I stared at her, confused and exasperated. I hadn’t known she’d been with anyone in high school.

She went on, quieter. “I want you here. Just—don’t ruin this for me.”

Before I could reply, loud footsteps. Tanner came back in, holding a beer. Jennie slipped away from me, fast—like it had never happened—and went over to him.

“Mark’s cool,” she said, touching his bicep. “He’s a team player.”

Tanner gave me a long look, then motioned toward me with the aluminum can. “Hold this.”

I blinked, confused, but took it. He smirked.

“Sit down and hold tight. When I need a drink, I’ll let you know.”

My cheeks burned, but I did as he said. I didn’t want to make things worse for Jennie.

Tanner then motioned for her to kneel in front of him on the rug. She complied without hesitation. Her hands rested gently in her lap and she shut her eyes, obediently opening her mouth. He tilted her chin up with one finger.

“Keep your eyes open. And look at him.” He turned her head so that it faced me. I smiled back weakly.

“Yes, sir,” she said—directed at him, but her gaze never left mine. My grip tightened around the beer, cold condensation dripping down my wrist. We were locking eyes, but I didn’t recognize her anymore.

Tanner began guiding her head slowly, methodically down his shaft. This time, he didn’t stop—pressing her forward until his entire cock vanished down her throat. Her eyes bulged. Tears slid silently down her face and a wet gurgle escaped her lips. I saw her pink-painted toes curl behind her.

“Good girl.”

He let go. She pulled back with a sickly retching sound, heaving. Nothing came up except strands of thick saliva. They clung from her lips and connected back to his cock.

“Oops,” she giggled hoarsely after a moment. “I’m good.” The words were innocent, but her voice sounded thick and congested, like she had come down with a cold.

Tanner showed little emotion, but stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Now you try on your own.”

She nodded and reached up to hold him—gently. Too gently. Tanner corrected her grip with his own, wrapping her fingers tighter, positioning her to hold firmly behind his balls. If time had been moving at all before, it now seemed to freeze.

Then she began. Her lips sealed tightly around him, head bobbing slowly, then faster. Her breaths came in jagged bursts. Saliva leaked from her mouth, dripping down to her chin in heavy, clear ropes. She was somewhere else now; her eyelids fluttering over a glassy, unfocused gaze.

“Wow, she’s a trooper,” Tanner said with a chuckle.

I couldn’t formulate a response except a short nod, heart thudding in my ears.

“Time for my beer.” Tanner caught my eye and held out his hand expectantly.

I rose and trudged over, handing him the beverage. He drank slowly, watching me while Jennie continued. I stood to the side awkwardly and avoided looking down at her, waiting for him to finish. Slowly, the muffled party sounds filtered back in—music, voices, footsteps. I glanced at the door, wondering if anyone outside could hear the loud, wet slurping sounds just a few feet away. I thought about opening it and running out. About what would happen if I did.

He let out a loud belch and set the empty can down on the coffee table beside him. Thinking I wasn’t needed anymore, I started to turn back towards the chair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he said, pointing to the floor beneath Jennie. “We can’t let anything stain the carpet.”

I blinked. “So… you want me to get a towel or something?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Just cup your hands. Like this.” He demonstrated with his palms together.

“You want me to—”

“Mark.” Jennie had removed him from her mouth. She looked up at me with that same prickly look she had been giving me all evening.

“Get down here,” she grabbed my hand with hers. “Do what he tells you to.”

Shaken, I obediently complied, getting down on the floor next to my friend. Her warm body was damp with sweat, humming as though she was running on electricity. She squeezed my hand tighter, fingers slipping against each other, lubricated by her mucus and saliva.

“It’s ok,” she whispered hot and breathily. “We’re in this together.” She let go and turned her attention back to Tanner. I held cupped hands underneath her chin. He gave her an approving nod.

She started again, and this time there was a new intensity in the way she moved. More confident. More deliberate. She braced her body against mine, her muscles taut with effort as she rhythmically thrusted her face onto Tanner’s cock. The sound of it was obscene—deep, guttural noises escaped from her throat, nothing like the Jennie I thought I knew. Her perky breasts bounced and heaved as she moved in jerky motions with an almost animalistic voracity.

Tears had started streaming from the corners of her eyes, mixing with spit and mucus in a messy cascade that ran off her chin. I tried to catch it, but the mess kept growing. The slick mixture began to seep down my wrists and onto my arms, coming dangerously close to reaching the radiant fibers of the rug.

Tanner noticed like a hawk. His voice came down from above.

“Make sure nothing gets on that carpet, boss.”

I looked up at him incredulously, panic rising in my chest. How was I supposed to contain Jennie’s saliva with just my hands? Frantic, I wiped them on my toga and tugged it off, laying it beneath her to soak up what I couldn’t catch. She didn’t even seem to notice. She just kept going.

“That's my girl. Just worry about making me cum. Mark will take care of the mess,” Tanner reassured.

She pulled back, filling her lungs deep with much needed air, blinking through silent tears. A thick string of saliva clung to her bottom lip before falling onto my crumpled toga.

She gave Tanner a sloppy nod. “Yes, sir.”

She then leaned in and spat a thick glob of spit onto his cock, rubbing it in with her palms slowly and methodically, as if still in a trance. I thought that move only existed on the internet. He grabbed her by the back of the head and pushed her onto his hard member once more.

“Fuck,” Tanner groaned. “I’m gonna cum.”

Jennie let out a muffled whimper and squeezed her eyes tight. Her free hand slipped underneath her toga, fingers moving quickly. She slowly fell forward further, her face mashed against his pelvis as she swallowed him whole. All I could see of his privates was his saliva-soaked balls as they glistened and bulged beneath her wet fingers. Drool oozed out from her slack lips.

“I’m cumming,” he groaned. He had his eyes closed now and his lip twitched, clearly in some sort of ecstasy.

Jennie’s body tensed against mine. Her frame shivered—completely in sync with him—as if she was experiencing every pulse of his orgasm in her own skin.

As she pulled away I preemptively leaned in to catch a sticky deluge of Tanner's cum, only to realize nothing was coming out. Jennie must have swallowed every last drop.

And then, mercifully, it ended. Adrenalin still coursed through my veins. All I could do was rub her back repeatedly in small circles, like a broken record player. She blinked, and hiccuped, slowly regaining her breath.

Tanner stood there swaying with his shoulders tense and jaw clenched. After a moment, he collapsed back into the couch, eyes still closed, heaving like he was somehow out of air as well.

We all sat there in silence for several minutes, the sounds of the party still muffled below. Eventually, Tanner’s breathing slowed, and his chest started to rise and fall rhythmically. After all of that, he was asleep.

Jennie got up without a word and slinked into the attached bathroom, flicking on the vanity light. A harsh fluorescence glare spilled across the marble, clean and clinical. I could hear her washing up in the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands and face of evidence as if she just remembered where we were.

I untangled myself from the rug slowly, careful not to disturb Tanner’s precarious slumber, but he was already stirring. The faucet turned off.

“Let’s go.” Jennie hissed at me, motioned towards the door.

I scrambled, caught off guard. I didn’t have another shirt, and she was already readjusting her toga, strolling toward the door like nothing had happened. Not wanting to stand there in just my boxer briefs, I yanked mine over my head. The fabric clung to me, damp and sticky. Hopefully, in the manor’s dim light, no one would notice.

Jennie shut the bedroom door behind us and shot me a sly smile.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and get a drink,” she said brightly, like we hadn’t just left a crime scene.

Something in me finally snapped. I wasn’t going to watch her hurt herself anymore. For the first time tonight, I felt like I had a spine.

“You're wasted already, I need to get you home.” I said adamantly.

She paused halfway down the stairs and turned back at me. “Mark…” Something shifted in her expression. Then she said it.

“I haven't had a drop of alcohol since we got here.”

I stared at her, confused. It hadn’t fully registered.

“It’s just easier,” she said with a casual shrug, “to pretend I’m a little out of control. People don’t ask as many questions. And sometimes…” Her voice faltered just slightly. “Sometimes I like feeling used. I just needed the right man.”

I refused to comprehend what she was saying. This was all too much for me. Too many emotions I didn’t have the tools to process. Jennie seemed to sense that; her eyes softened as she closed the distance between us.

“You helped me, too,” she said. “I needed you there.”

Whatever energy I had left I used to push my feelings all the way down, someplace where they would be hidden for a long, long time. But one tear betrayed me, slipping free before I could stop it. Jennie reached out and wiped it delicately away with her thumb. She stared at me for a second, like she didn’t know what else to do, before giving me a gentle peck on the cheek. I flinched.

“You did so well today,” she whispered, her tone almost proud.

Then, in her usual bubbly voice: “Come on, I’m sure we can find a bottle of champagne somewhere.”

She squeezed my hand and led me the rest of the way down the stairs.

Authors note: Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing erotica and extended dialog. Feedback is appreciated.