Chapter Six: Shameful Deeds

Somehow the three of us ended up in my dark, dismal kitchen, and I dutifully made us all tea. It's quiet between us, and when I look up to start conversation, Aerie is staring at me, and Amara was still puzzling over us, sure that something had happened that she didn't know about.

Swallowing, it takes considerable effort to force a smile.

"Is the shop front decorated yet?" I ask, grasping for Amara's attention, "I know you've been struggling to find some local painters."

She nods, refocusing on me.

"The painters pulled out. That's partly why I came over. I think we'll have to do it ourselves," she informs us.

Aerie frowns, leaning forward earnestly.

"I can hire a good team of painters at short notice," Aerie prompts, her gaze stern, "Just say the word and I'll cover it."

I reel at her ease to be able to splash money, surprised.

"But you're already covering the stock for the first two months. I can cover a few tins of paint and paintbrushes," Amara fusses, picking up her mug of tea, "Besides, a little painting together all three of us might be fun!"

I grimace, not liking the fact that all I can offer is hard work and dependability. I can't chip in and buy what the store needs, and with the opening next week, I felt like a stranger to the process.

"I'll paint the store front," I state firmly, desperate to be of use, "I can bring the tea and coffee for our breaks too."

Amara claps her hands together, dark eyes sparkling, before looking at Aerie.

"It's decided then. I'll make us a packed lunch tomorrow, and we can all paint."

Aerie smiles warmly, surprising me out of my musings. When she's not looking at me, and holds herself candidly and freely, she's even more beautiful. The length of her dark hair demands to be touched, and her lips, smiling, demand to be kissed.

Frowning at my thoughts, I return my focus to Amara, wondering over my use as a friend to her.

The thoughts haunt me after they leave, and continue to haunt me well into the night, and as I wake, the thoughts haunt me still. I dress sluggishly in old dungarees, a rainbow shirt and my trusty doc Martins which were begging to be repaired. I sling my hair up in a lazy bun, and make my way out the house whilst stuffing my face with a breakfast bar. It's still early, so the winding streets are still quiet. Birds screech on the wind like tiny morning omens, announcing the long day to follow, and I drag myself onwards.

The store is in a well trafficked area with plenty of footfall on the main street. At peak times it's packed with locals, tourists and excitable children. Currently, however, that main street is stock still, save for the elderly man walking his elderly dog. They shuffle past as I dig the key out for the front door, and I puzzle when the door opens, and Aerie stands there, a smirk in place.

"I wondered what time you'd get here," she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "Amara isn't here yet, she's picking up the tins."

I stare, still half-asleep and in dire need of coffee. She looks too good in casual clothing. Her crop top shows off the toned flat planes of her stomach, and her joggers hang loose on her hips. Her long dark hair has been scraped back into a sleek ponytail, and I find myself wanting to pull the bobble out to run my hands through her hair. She gives me a knowing look when I meet her gaze.

"Would you like a wake-up call?" She asks, dragging me through the door slowly, "An orgasm makes an excellent alarm clock."

I felt myself follow her through the door as though in a trance, my mind scrambled like overly beaten eggs. All I know is I want her fingers inside me and her tongue circling my clit.

"I think I'm inclined to agree," I breathed, closing the door behind me, "Beg though."

She laughs, surprised, not expecting me to ask for her to beg, but the thought of her on her knees and begging made me delirious with desire. This posh, expensive, money-splashing woman...the thought of her begging to touch me was enough to set my passion aflame. She sees the determination in my face, and her surprise turns to intrigue.

"And how must I beg you, as your personal sex alarm clock?" She asks cockily, pulling me through towards the back room, "I could get on my knees for the honor of eating you."

Once we're in the back room she locks the door, and whilst maintaining eye contact, backs me onto the door, before sinking to her knees.

"Do I get the pleasure to eat her royal highness?" She asks, sounding entertained.

I cross my arms primly, lifting my chin in defiance. Her eyes are smouldering, looking over my body with lust. It's amusing, but seeing her on her knees really was sexy. Her eyes, though she's smiling, hold a pleading edge to them.

"You're not begging," I retort, lifting my leg and laying my boot on her shoulder, "You have to beg."

Aerie's breath comes out as a shudder, surprising me with how our exchange was affecting her more than I thought. Slowly and deliberately, her hands travel up my boot to my leg, cupping behind the knee.

"If it suits," she says quietly, her gaze never leaving mine, "Can I please eat your delicious pussy? I beg of you."

Despite getting what I wanted, I flush hard, not having expected it to be this easy. Trying to appear in control and unaffected, I slip the straps of my dungarees down, and slip them down my legs. Aerie waits, her chest moving with her deep breaths, watching as I slide my knickers down. She doesn't move, waiting for my go ahead, her eyes on mine.

"You may," I tell her, lifting my leg to her shoulder again, "And do make it good."

She grasps my leg, and dips her head dutifully between my legs, her tongue taking a long swipe through my folds. I tremble, knowing her talented tongue was about to work wonders on me.

"You know," Aerie's voice muffles from below me, "If you didn't hate me so much we'd be compatible."

I tense, my relaxed body coiling in on itself in defence, something Aerie didn't miss. She glances up at me enquiringly.

"That would require you to stop being a posh twat," I say darkly, not liking this new direction, "And for you to actually like me, which you don't. You just like fucking me."

Aerie opens her mouth to say something but I look away, done with the conversation.

"You can either continue eating me, or I'm going to start working," I tell her, staring at the wall opposite.

She pauses, deliberating, before sighing, her hands on my hips. I was beginning to feel ridiculously exposed, but before I could change my mind and back out, she licks me again, pulling me into a different head space once more. I didn't come, possibly because of what she said earlier making me too stressed to climax, but I still felt relaxed afterwards. I thanked her, got dressed, and went about my business. It occurred to me that maybe I should have been gentler in my leaving her there in the back room, but since this was a contractual agreement only, I was going to treat it as such.

She didn't come out of the back room for a while, and still hadn't reappeared by the time Amara came bustling in, tins and paintbrushes jostling in her arms. I rush to help her, aware of the sour mood emanating from the back room.

"Is Aerie here?" Amara asks hopefully, smiling broadly, "I can't wait for us all to work together."

Before I can answer Aerie finally walks in, and it doesn't take a genius to see that something is very, very wrong. Her eyes are slightly pink and puffy, and the smile she forces is incredibly fake. She takes a tin silently with a paintbrush, and then exits the shop with a slam of the door. I gaped at the sight of her outside, and then blanch when I see Amara's face.

"What did you do?" She demands, setting things on the counter with a loud thud, "Am I going to have to babysit the two of you at all times, is that it?"

I shake my head, confused still, watching Aerie paint with a dark look on her face. Amara is pissed with me, and it strikes me, white-hot, that I've royally fucked up.

"I'll go apologise," I tell her, hurrying to the door, "Give me ten minutes."

Amara's glare follows me out the door, and I hesitate behind Aerie, unsure what to say.

"You can either apologise or fuck off," she says sharply, ice prickling through her words, "I've not had a dehumanising experience like that in a very long time."

Swallowing thickly, I open my mouth, but my shame closes it. She has every right to be angry. Our agreement is contractual, yes, but not devoid of humanity and emotion. I kneel next to her, stilling her hand with the paintbrush. She glares at my touch, and I move away, acknowledging her need for space.

"I wasn't thinking," I finally said lamely, "I'm sorry I treated you..."

My words trailed off, and Aerie's eye twitches.

"Like shit," she finishes for me, venom pulling through her words.

I grimace hard, cringing.

"Yeah," I agree, "I was in a bad mood and took it out on you."

"Because you're a bitch," she says firmly, as if it was a clarification.

Faltering, I just find myself nodding, unable to defend myself. I'm sure most one-night stands have more manners than what I had displayed earlier.

"I may have agreed to this arrangement Cora, but I never agreed to feel disrespected and made to feel cheap."

Her words were glaciers, sharp and brutal, but I nodded in agreement.

"You didn't, you're right. I'm very sorry," I answered, my voice sounding like an echo.

She takes in a huge intake of air, almost like she was trying to source some sense of calm through breathing, and then she returns to painting, her gaze determined.

"The arrangement is ongoing. I'll behave because you apologised, but I'll behave mostly because I don't want to upset Amara," she tells me in a clipped tone, "Consider this your last and only warning: never treat me like that again."

Chills run through me, but I agree obediently, and she dismisses me with a glare.

We work as a three in mostly silence all day, even during our break eating the sandwiches Amara had made. I can tell she's disappointed and upset. It wasn't the result she had expected, but due to the silence we worked quickly and efficiently. We wrapped up near three in the afternoon, and after Amara briefly tries to end the day on a high note, we depart sullenly, tired and all bitter about the experience. I'm the worst kind of friend. I take and I take, but don't give back, and that same issue is reflected in how I treated Aerie earlier.

I slink back to my house brewing with shame, and with the grand opening next week, I wondered if we'd even last until then.

Checking my phone I see a text message from an unknown number, and puzzle at it upon entering my house.

It simply read:

Beg for my forgiveness, regards, Aerie

Sheepish I turn to close the door, and jump when I see Aerie standing there, still as the dead. She watches as I drop my phone, a thoughtful purse to her lips. I fumble under her apathetic gaze.

"I came with the intention to make you feel worse," she said simply, but then looked at me closely, "But I'm not that kind of person. Instead, you can make it up to me another way."

Frowning, I had visions of awful things she could make me do. My brain conjures up images of high school, and the bullies who would demand I eat dirt or lick the floor of the girls toilets. Aerie sees my trepidation, and smirks.

"It's nothing horrendous. Maybe. Depends who you ask," she tells me, her eyes glinting.

I wait for her to make the demand, feeling anxious.

"Pretend to be my girlfriend for a month."