We stuck together chatting for the longest time before the two of them had to go get dinner, and Bridget and I followed suit in our own place—Bridget, as it turned out, wasn’t much of a cook. More of a baker, I could only assume. But I knew my way around a kitchen decently enough, and I took point having her help me make a hearty vegetable stew, and even though she was a little slow and clumsy in places, the cooking went by muchfaster if for nothing else than that it was… well, fun. Getting to gossip with her about Kevin and the rest of my family, I was sorry to see it end when we’d finished dinner and she yawned, stretching her arms over her head.
“I’m about ready to crash,” she said. “I should be working on my evil schemes back in my lair of secrets, but I’m too tired…”
“Well, if you’re too tired, bringing about the fall of civilization will have to wait for another day, won’t it? Want to put on a movie or something?”
She beamed at me, her eyes absolutely radiant. “That sounds amazing.”
A movie. Yeah. And I’d stop wondering what it was she did.
Chapter 7
Victoria
I was wondering what she did.
I couldn’ttakeit. I knew it was wrong, but spending the whole day with her, feeling attached to her like this and not having a clue what she did, it ate me alive.
So I gave in. Once I was back in my room after saying goodnight and getting ready for bed, I sat at my laptop for a long time, staring at the search bar, before this time, finally, I hit enter.
No results. Nothing relevant, at least. But it was weird that it turned on the explicit content filter. Was it…?
I hesitated for a long time with my cursor over the button before I turned off the search filter. More results came up this time.
“Oh, shit,” I said quietly, as I clicked my way through to a page where it was absolutely, unquestionably, one hundred percent Bridget’s face on the screen. And… a lot of… the restof her body. The latest she’d shared for non-subscribers was a picture of herself in satiny costume-style underwear and a collar, sitting in a chair in her bedroom, her legs up in the chair with her, spread out over the chair arms, and a seductive look at the camera, with a… well, a… a toy, in her hand, held up against her thigh. A caption above it.anyone want to welcome in the weekend with me?Comments below gushing over how… hot she looked. Mostly from women. She’d responded to the ones from more than a few hours ago… being very effusive.
It was a photoset, and I really, really should have backed out instead of clicking through to the next picture. My breath caught a little at the sight of her repositioned over the arm, showing her cleavage, and then—one with her sitting up and the toy on her… on her tongue, making intense… eye contact… with the camera. The next ones were for subscribers only. I could imagine what they looked like.
I found the narration in question next.Erotic POV Audio: your two coworkers fight over which of them gets to fuck you at your new job before agreeing to share (collab with GirlsSecretGina).The thumbnail header made it clear the two… coworkers in competition, as it were, were definitely… women.
Bridget was a lesbian porn creator.
I stared blankly at the screen, even knowing I should have closed it and backed out and forgotten this ever happened, just… scrolling down… looking. Just at the thumbnails, the summaries. She… made a lot of different… things. Stories, blog posts, pictures… videos… a lot of narrations recently… even live shows. Seemed like one very popular one was her gaming livestream where the big draw was that the audience could chip in to control… well… the equipment. Not the gaming equipment.
I scrolled to a video that started autoplaying, and my body lurched as I saw Bridget in the kitchen—in our kitchen—wearing a sheer camisole that her nipples showed through and a tiny,lacy pair of panties, and she gyrated her hips against the counter as she smiled flawlessly into the camera, big blue eyes fixed on the viewer as she tilted her head, lips parted seductively, that smile dancing on her lips…
“Hey, beautiful,” she said, in that… bedroom voice. Turned up higher than I’d thought. Shit. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to get home, baby…”
She slipped her hands down her front. I paused the video, mashed the X button to close the window, and I shut the laptop, breathing hard, staring at it.
I should not have looked. I should have respected her privacy. She didn’t want me to look for a reason. She had a very good reason.Shit.How was I supposed to look her in the eye again?
I was bringing her to meet myfamilytomorrow. Half of them thought she was my girlfriend. I’d just seen her grinding her tight ass in pretty little panties against the counter, and I was supposed to introduce her to my family?
What the fuck was I even thinking, anyway?Her tight ass in pretty little panties?I mean, sure, that had been the point, but… but… I wasn’t like that. I mean, not that there was anything wrong with being like that, that wasfine,it was just… I just wasn’t… wasn’t really her target audience. Wasn’t the type to watch that kind of thing and get turned on or think about how she looked or sounded or… uh…
No wonder I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’d been on a, er… dry spell. A dry spell that had lasted since my first year out of college, to be precise. Provocative content was likely to… stick in my head, as it were. I just had to go to bed, get some sleep, and wake up refreshed with this as an odd fact to put away and laugh about later on, and in the meantime, I’d give Bridget her privacy, stop trying to ask her what she did.
I went to bed, so I made it through the first step. Step two, getting some sleep, proved trickier. The image of Bridget’s eyes in that video, that slight seductive tilt of her head, as she moved her hips against the counter… that same counter I’d leaned against… her voice.
I was not getting turned on by myroommate.I was not thinking about the porn my roommate made.
I’ve been waiting so long for you to get home, baby…
I should have closed the window as soon as I’d seen that first photo. That video would not get out of my head. Just… worrying where else she might have done it. Was the whole apartment contaminated? Had she ground on all the furniture, recording herself moaning as she did? Was it all dirtied, marked?
I was trying to complain inwardly and it was sounding sexier and sexier in my head. What the hell was wrong with me?
I’ve been waiting so long for you to get home…
