Moonlight silvered a crescent of Cassie’s thigh, where it emerged from the sheets, and tangled itself in the downy hairs that lay along her arm.
The house around them was still. Miranda sat, listening to the soft intermittent rasp of the sleeping girl’s breath. Cassie’s phone rested on the bed beside her, its dead screen a rectangle of deeper dark in the dark of the room. Half-consciously Miranda let her own breathing slow to match the rhythm of her unaware partner.
Such a pretty thing. Absolutely Renate would have poached her, Miranda told herself.
Cassie muttered something in her sleep and shifted the covers. Her hip fell into moonlight and was cool where Miranda touched it, no more heavily than the light. A scent of the girl’s sex came to her. That’s what you were getting up to when you should have been charging your phone, Miranda thought. She felt a glow of possessive pride. Little minx.
Sometimes a cigar was just a cigar. Sometimes an unacknowledged text was just a girl too horny to think about battery life.
She’d been in such a sweat about it though. Cursing herself for letting the girl out of her sight, and then for letting her show up to the dance because she felt like she needed to keep watch of her. Which of course Reen had also showed up to. There was always that witchy, sort of spidery thing about Reen: Cassie at the dance seemed like a fly landed on the outskirts of a web. So easy for any light vibration, any tickle, to send the message: prey. Not the sort of invitation Renate would turn down.
It doesn’t do to give Reen more power than she has, she reminded herself. Miranda breathed, and felt the fever of the day break. She drew the covers away from Cassie’s breasts, down her belly and off her thighs. Nothing but skin. Somehow the girl’s nakedness moved her, as it often did. So she was sleeping nude now? And without any instruction. She thought how deftly she’d had to maneuver to bring Beedee to that point.
Good thing the parents were tame. She’d have to have another chat with them, though, if Cassie was going to start shedding clothes around the house. So few naturists in this part of the country.
Miranda dipped her fingers into the pool of shadow at Cassie’s cleft. From her sleep the girl sent up a light, responsive moan. I’m not bored, she told herself. It wasn’t getting boring. Beedee was a sex kitten. If she wasn’t doing it so much for her now, it was probably because she’d got used to treating the girl more as a technical challenge. You try replacing a girl’s mother so she barely notices, see how easy you think it is, Miranda thought fiercely at nobody. A stubborn, spoiled rich girl at that.
Renate never waited on a score, it was against her religion. Take the money and run, always. But Miranda was tired of all that. She had a place in mind: somewhere cozy and overlooked, somewhere you could be rich and deferred to and misbehave how you liked and no one would ever bat an eye, or trouble themselves to remember. Like a country squire. Your own private little bubble of absolute power.
This was that place. She hadn’t been sure of it at first, or that she could pull it off here, but she was now. She was doing it. And once she came into Beedee’s considerable inheritance, the sky was the limit.
Cassie, though. She’d scouted her working the coffeeshop a few weeks back. One of those Christian girls, with their complicated virginities. The thwarted middle-class mom who bullies her into mistrusting her own beauty. The sort of girl that gave you ideas, made you want to cut it up with them a bit. Nothing technical about it, not in the least. The first time Miranda saw her she thought, this one’s aching to fall.
Well, it was a blessing in disguise, Renate showing up. Even if she’d felt all day like the girl in the stall trying to flush her smokes before the principal came in. Truth was, she had herself a new little slut dolly and she was impatient to play with it. That’s what it boiled down to. Put the two of them together just to see which way the sparks fly. Get a little inspiration, maybe. And no, it was bad timing. Eyes on the prize, unironically. In a couple months she could have all the shenanigans with Cassie she felt like.
Renate showed up today because that’s what Renate did, she showed up. Out of the blue was Renate’s mode. She came, she went, on her own schedule, she manifested every year or two, and it was never convenient, but there was never any intention behind it. It was only Reen’s wanderlust. She wasn’t some sort of mystical nemesis, just a slightly trying woman who had never figured out how to stay put.
She would've poached though. An unacknowledged side piece? She’d have felt obligated, if only for the sport.
An hour all told, there and back. Miranda moved her hand again to Cassie’s moonlit flank. Not even that. You kept a safe house for a reason, after all. She began rocking the girl by the hip, gently but insistently. You couldn’t call it paranoia. Why leave temptation lying around? Renate’d be bored and on her way inside a week. Stash slutbunny here in the cabin, give her a full plate of programming, let her edge till she turned to jello. She’d forget what clothes even were.
Rolling her head on the pillow, Cassie grouched herself out of sleep. Her eyes fluttered, and awareness flickered in them. She pushed herself up by the elbows, her face flushing with surprise or alarm, and was about to speak when Miranda tapped her peremptorily between the eyes and said “Obedient.”
Cassie floated up out of the tangle of covers and sat, collapsed forward on herself. Even in trance she looked like a girl roused too early from sleep. Miranda stood up from the bed and tousled her plaything’s nest of hair. “Alright, darlin, rise and shine now. Sorry about the hour.
“Put something on and get your shoes, we’re gonna go someplace.” Cassie half fell, half crawled toward the foot of the bed. Miranda fished at the lamp on the end table for the pull. She caught it, and the room turned livid.
Red lightbulbs yet, she thought, shaking her head. More of the girl’s freelance horniness. It was cute, but not really to the purpose. Miranda crouched to inspect around the outlet. The cabin had all the necessaries, at least in the short term, but there wasn't a landline out there. The slut’s damn phone was going to need its damn charger.
When she rose again and turned around, she had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh. Cassie’d put the pink dress on. Half on; she’d barely managed to catch the zipper before losing track of herself. It was endearingly pathetic. Something about the light combined with the dress combined with the blondness and the pale skin made her look like a towel gone through the wash wrong. The heels dangled one from each hand. She stood barefoot, slumped, unminding, an obedience unit idling between commands.
“Get means put on, dummy,” Miranda clucked. She came over to take the shoes, and at the first tug Cassie fell forward into her. Charmed, she pulled the stupefied girl’s hands forward and around her and let the fall turn into an embrace. The warm bed-scent of Cassie's hair filled her sense. Cassie's lips were hot on her skin and the girl moaned and started kissing her way up Miranda's neck.
Miranda was going to shut it down any minute now but she didn’t at all object to Cassie teasing at her ear like that. Then it dawned on her Cassie was saying something. It was something particular, and Miranda made herself go still, so she could really hear. The shoes clattered on the floor behind her but that wasn’t part of anything. Cassie’s voice, borne on whatever words she was speaking, was a rapture. It was distilled sex. Under the breathy heat at her ear Miranda’s pussy melted, and the world melted around it.
Then somehow the bed had her. She was too tired for standing. Too tired for running around too. Anyway she was done with the old plan now. Superseded. She wasn’t sure what the new one was but she knew she had Cassie safe, was the important thing. Miranda heard herself sigh, contented, the sigh of a sleeper, of a woman past worry. They were staying here. The rest of it she would remember when she woke up.