Page 12 of Dirty Arrangement

Then my door opens again and another customer enters. Suddenly I'm swept up in a rush of orders that keep me from working on the cake-bombs. I'm ringing someone up when Ms. Snip clears her throat politely. “Alice?” she asks. I glance at her. “That cake-bomb was the best thing I've eaten in a long time. Please tell me they'll be a permanent addition to your menu.”

My heart thrums with joy. The other customers are staring at us, some of them eyeing the cake bombs on the tray to one side. “Thank you so much,” I say. “They'll be on the menu officially as soon as possible.”

She beams. “Fantastic. I'll get my usual order, then... and maybe one more cake-bomb? If it's no too much trouble?”

Giggling, I hand her what she asked for. “Have a great day, Ms. Snip.”

****

I'M STUNNED TO SEEthat it's closing time. The day flew by as I experimented with the cake-bomb recipe. Customers took pictures of me with their phones as I decorated. I was sure I had more foot traffic than normal. Was it all because of the cake-bombs?

I stay an extra hour to do a few more trials. I'm confident enough to adjust the recipe, making it my own, and adding a rainbow colored cream to the middle of the bombs that looks beautiful when a bite is taken.

Proud of my success, I clean up and head home. My brain needs a vacation after so much effort. I'm stoked, though—it felt great to embrace my creativity. It really has been too long.

I cross into my apartment just as my cellphone rings. I recognize the number—Thomas—and answer. “Hello?”

“Alice,” he says, “thank you for being at work on time.”

My neck hairs bristle. “You're welcome,” I spit, unable to keep the razors off my tongue.

He chuckles at my reaction. “Let's have dinner tonight. I can pick you up in an hour.”

“What? It's such short notice,” I stutter.

“Did you have other plans?”

I glance around my messy apartment. Of course I had no plans. A bath, maybe. “Okay, if you're offering, I won't turn down a free meal.”

“Perfect. One more thing—take the package I gave you out of the fridge. There's instructions inside. I'll see you soon, Alice.” The line goes dead; I don't have time to say goodbye or even argue. My eyes drift to the fridge. I'd stashed the paper bag there and forgotten about it.

Approaching my fridge nervously, I pull out the bag. I set it gently on my kitchen table, as if it might explode. Thomas must love this game of giving me mystery packages. Unfurling the top, I squint inside at the two items; one is a slip of paper, the other looks white, round, glossy. At first I think it's a vanilla frosted cake-bomb. I quickly open the note for answers.

Alice,

I've made you a special present. Can you guess? That's right, it's my cum wrapped safely in a special condom. Slide it inside of you. It's cold, but it'll warm up very fast... enjoy.

—Thomas

I'm trembling as I realize I'm not holding a dessert.He gave me his cum, and he wants me to put it inside of me?My lower belly tingles at the idea of following his instructions. It's a perverted request... but it's turning me on. Thomas has a twisted mind, and yet, his creative perversion is enticing. It makes me want to know what he'll do next. Still, I'm not sure I'm ready to stuff this cold ball inside of me.

Get ready for dinner, then worry about this after.I blink.Is this a date? Oh, god. It definitely is.It's a bit of a relief. I'd suspected he was mad at me after our last meet-up, especially after I kissed him. He'd acted so cold. A dinner-date means he doesn't hate me.

I shake myself, walking over to look at the piles of fancy clothes. I still haven't hung any of them; my closet isn't big enough. Fingering the dresses, I stop when I come across a knee-length one that looks blue as the sea and feels like butter.

Holding it to my chest, I study myself in my bedroom mirror. The color makes the flecks of gold in my eyes glow. Stripping down, I slip into the dress, zipping it tight. It clings to me in a way that I'm positive Thomas will love. I grip my hips, shifting them, satisfied with the idea of driving him crazy. He deserves a little torture.

Speaking of...I drag my feet as I enter my kitchen. The cum-ball sits on my table, taunting me with the filthiness of it. I give it a squeeze; the latex surface yields, like it's dough that's unthawing.And he wants this inside of me?Shivering, I run my palm down my belly over the smooth dress until I'm underneath the ruffles, brushing the elastic of my panties.

My clit is throbbing as I stroke the cold sphere over the front of my panties. I slide it under the lace, lubing it up with my excited juices.

Leaning over my table, I let out a soft moan. If I wasn't already turned on by following his instructions, it would have taken some work to get the ball inside my pussy. I pull it inside of my walls hungrily.

It's still cold; I rock my hips, squeezing, gasping in delight. Have I always been so depraved, or did I just need an opportunity to indulge? I take a few experimental steps. Each one makes the object inside of me feel bigger. Sweat collects under my breasts. I worry I might come before I leave my apartment, how will I survive a whole dinner?

Take a breath and relax.Strapping on a pair of heels, I snatch my purse and walk in short steps out my door. I'm red faced at the bottom when I see the headlights of the black car waiting for me. The driver door opens—it's Thomas and not his chauffeur.

“Evening,” he says, looking me up and down. He's wearing a stylish suit the color of freshly poured tar. His knowing smile lights up his face in a charming way.

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