So my feet crept soundlessly down the carpeted hallway. There was the blue bedroom on the right, and stopping for a moment, I looked in that direction. But no, it was perfectly soundless, door tightly shut. So I kept moving, quiet as a mouse.
And finally, at the end of the hallway, I paused. Passing by countless doors, my ears had prickled, listening for the sound again. But there’d been nothing. Had it been my imagination? Was I so wired from the day’s events that even the slightest boo made me jump? Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm down. Thorn would be back any second, and I had to keep it together. I had to appear calm and composed, even if I was a mess inside.
But then it happened. The thunk came again, impossible to miss, and I whirled to look. What in the world? Staring at the door to the red bedroom, another thunk sounded out once more, relentless and loud. What was going on in there? The door was tightly shut and I bit my lip, unsure what to do.
But then the blood ran cold in my veins, turning to ice. Because a long moan sounded through the door, an “Ahhhh” that meant only one thing. There was a woman in there. There was a woman having the time of her life, and it had to be with Thorn. It had to be with my man, he was fucking another woman right here, right now.
A dagger lanced through my heart and I literally bent over in two, unable to breathe. Oh my god, how could this be happening? My head lowered automatically, trying to find oxygen but it was impossible. My lungs just wouldn’t inflate and I fell to the floor then, collapsing in a messy heap.
Oh god, oh god, what was going on? Scrabbling at the carpet, I tried to come to terms with the situation. But even as my mind spun dizzily, it happened again. Another long, low, breathy “Ahhhhh,” sounded out, this time with the accompanying sound of rhythmic wet slaps. Oh god. They were fucking for sure, that was the sound of dick going in cunt.
And as if on cue, a male grunt sounded out then, followed by a long and low, “Yeah baby.”
With that, I was gone. All my resolve about behaving professionally, about confronting Thorn in a calm and balanced manner went out the door and I fled down the hallway, breath coming in gasps, brown curls flying. Oh my god, oh my god. I couldn’t believe it because this was worse than my worst nightmare. I’d thought that Thorn would fess up about some girls he’d banged in the past, he’d say that the bedrooms were just left over from his past life. I thought he’d have excuses and it’d be up to me to decide whether I wanted to believe them.
But no, it was a thousand times worse and my stomach heaved. I bent over, insides churning painfully, a couple dry coughs sounding out as I got to the living room. Because it was a Twilight Zone scenario, Hell come to life. Even now, I could still hear the frantic gasps and the rhythmic pounds, hard dick shoved into juicy wet cunt again and again. And with that, my survival mechanism took over. I had to get away. I had to get myself away from this sordid mess, the disgusting cesspool my life had become.
Sprinting to the elevator, my finger frantically pushed the button in the wall, desperate to escape. No luck. Like a madwoman, my hands scrabbled at the fire escape door instead, and down I clattered, half-sobbing and half-panting, for thirty-five stories. I was winded, hair flying, almost tripping a couple times, but adrenaline propelled my feet forward so that I didn’t feel the physical pain.
Because it was the emotional pain that had me doubled over. Knowing that Thorn was fucking another woman ripped my heart apart. I’d seen the proof with my very own eyes. Here, in his apartment, in the red bedroom that was never used, Mr. Channing was banging another chick. I’d heard her gasps myself, heard the thumping sound, the unmistakable wet sucking noises of dick owning pussy, again and again, their cries rising to the heavens.
And the worst part was that Thorn had just tasted me this morning. I’d woken in his bed, that fat cock in my mouth and given him a sloppy blow job, moaning with pleasure the entire time. And then I’d let him use my pussy, let him push it in, twisting and writhing, crying out his name the whole time. “Thorn, Thorn!” the words had burst from my lips like a prayer. “Mr. Channing, yes!”
But it was all over now. Because no way could I look him in the eye again, no way could I see that big body and keep a straight face. If anything, I’d dissolve into a mess of tears, shoulders crumpling, dropping into a heap on the ground.