Chapter 4: Poolside Tinder Trap
The kennel door clicked open at precisely seven a.m.No gentle hand, just the sound of the latch. Matt blinked into the sterile morning light filtering through the loft’s high windows. His body still hummed with the ghost of the dream, a relentless, low-grade need that had prevented any true rest. He was still hard.It was a dull, persistent fact.
“Out,” Cat’s voice came from somewhere above him.“You stink of sweat and desperation.Shower. There are clothes in the dresser by the bathroom.Be quick. I’m hungry.”
He crawled out, his muscles stiff and protesting.The loft was quiet. Leo was already at the workbench, methodically oiling a length of chain.Ben was nowhere to be seen. David gave him a vacant, pitying blink from the divan.The shower was a blessing and a torment. The hot water scoured his skin but did nothing to ease the tight coil in his groin. He dressed in the clothes she’d left: slim black trousers, a simple gray t-shirt, soft-soled shoes. They fit perfectly.He didn’t wonder how.
She was waiting by the elevator, dressed in a flowing silk robe over what looked like nothing.She appraised him with a glance. “Presentable.For now.”
They ate breakfast at a cafe two blocks away. She had avocado toast and a cappuccino.He ordered eggs but couldn’t swallow more than a few bites. The normalcy of it was a bizarre theater.Sunlight dappled the table. People laughed on the sidewalk. And across from him, Cat sipped her coffee, her foot occasionally brushing his shin under the table, each touch a tiny electric shock that made his fork waver.
“You have work today,” she stated, not asking.“Yes. A donor call sheet to finalize.”
“Good.Do your job.Be charming. Think of me exactly once per hour.” She smiled, a flash of white. “I’ll know if you don’t.”
He nodded, the motion automatic.
“And tonight,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin, “we’re going to the pool.My building’s rooftop.I need the sun. You need to relax.” Her tone brooked no argument.It wasn’t an invitation.
The day passed in a haze of spreadsheet cells and phone calls. His professional voice, the one trained for optimism and persuasion, functioned independently. At fifty-nine minutes past each hour, a cold dread would seep in, and he would force a single, concentrated thought of her: the feel of the ring gag, the smell of the bath oil, the weight in the dream. Each time, the coil in his gut would pulse, a sickening acknowledgement.He returned to the warehouse at six. She was already dressed for the pool: a black bikini so minimal it was more suggestion than garment, covered by a sheer black caftan.She tossed him a pair of swim trunks.“Change. We’re going up.”
The rooftop pool was a crescent of shimmering obsidian, lit from within by shifting, silvery lights that made the water look alive. It was edged in dark stone, with a few low loungers and a hidden alcove shrouded by a tapestry of flowering jasmine. The scent was heady, almost cloying, mixing with the chlorine and the city’s distant murmur. The sun was a molten coin sinking into the skyline, painting everything in bruised gold and purple.
She settled on a wide double lounger, pulling him down to sit between her legs, his back against her front. Her skin was warm.She hooked her chin over his shoulder, her breath tickling his ear. She pulled out her phone.
“Let’s see what the cattle are up to tonight,” she murmured, opening Tinder.She swiped lazily, showing him profiles.A guy holding a fish. “Ugh.Next.” A shirtless gym selfie. “Trying too hard.” She chuckled, a low, vibrating sound against his spine. It felt disturbingly intimate, a parody of a couple sharing a joke.She swiped right on a man with a kind, squinting smile. “He looks soft.Easy.” A match chimed instantly. She typed a quick message, her thumbs flying.“See? They’re so eager to please.”
Matt watched, a knot of shame tightening in his chest.This was her natural habitat.He was just a recent acquisition.
After a few minutes, she nudged him.“Your phone. Show me your friends.”
A cold trickle of apprehension, faint but sharp, cut through his fog.He hesitated for a second. Her hand, which had been draped over his shoulder, slid down to his inner thigh and pinched, hard.He flinched and pulled his phone from the pocket of his trunks.
He opened his photo gallery, scrolling past memes, work screenshots, until he found a recent group picture. It was from a happy hour a month ago—him, Ryland, Chloe, and Javier, all grinning with beers in hand.A lifetime ago.She took the phone from his hand. “Cute.” Her finger tapped the screen, zooming in.It landed on Ryland. Tall, lanky, with a shock of artfully messy blond hair and a goofy, open smile. Ryland, who he’d known since fifth grade. Who had loaned him money for his first security deposit.
“He’s cute,” Cat purred, the word laden with a different meaning.“Ryland.Interesting name.” She looked at Matt, her eyes reflecting the dying sunset. “Text him.Tell him you’re at your girlfriend’s rooftop pool. Tell him it’s incredible. That he should come over for a swim.”
The command hung in the perfumed air.The last fragment of the old Matt screamed silently.No.Not him. Not Ryland.But his body was already moving.His fingers took the phone back. He opened his messages, found Ryland’s thread. The last text was a joke about a terrible movie from three days ago.He began to type, his movements precise, unhurried.Hey man. At my girlfriend Cat’s place—she’s got a wild rooftop pool. You gotta see this view.Feel like swimming?Come over.He showed her the screen.
“Add the address,” she said.“And a smiling emoji.Two of them.”
He did.He hit send.
The response was almost immediate.Ryland: Girlfriend??Since when? Hell yeah, I’m bored.Send the addy.Matt sent the warehouse address.
Cat smiled, a genuine expression of pleasure that transformed her sharp features into something momentarily breathtaking and utterly terrifying. She took the phone, dropped it on the table beside them, and turned his face towards hers. She kissed him, slowly this time, a possessive, sealing kiss.When she pulled back, her lips brushed his ear.
“Good boy,” she whispered, the words slithering into him. “I’ll handle the rest.You just be your charming self. Our guest will be here soon.”
She settled back, pulling him against her, and resumed scrolling on her own phone. The water in the pool swirled, black and silver, like a pit of liquid mercury. The last of the sun vanished, and the underwater lights grew brighter, casting long, distorted shadows. Somewhere in the alcove, Matt glimpsed the cold glint of iron chair legs, the tidy coil of silk rope on a shelf.
He sat, enveloped by her warmth and her will, and watched the elevator door across the roof, waiting for it to open. The pulsing ache inside him was now joined by a new, hollow dread, knowing he had just typed the words that would deliver his best friend into the same gleaming darkness where he now lived. The water lapped softly against the stone edge, a patient, rhythmic sound.
The water lapped softly against the stone edge, a patient, rhythmic sound.The elevator chimed, a bright, incongruous note in the deepening twilight. The door slid open, and Ryland stepped out, a towel slung over his shoulder, his lean frame silhouetted against the interior light. He squinted, then his face broke into its familiar, easy grin.“Matt! Holy crap, this place is insane!”
Matt felt Cat’s hand press firmly between his shoulder blades, a silent command.He stood, the movement feeling borrowed. “Hey, Ryland.” His own voice sounded okay, normal. The conditioned charm from his donor calls clicked on automatically. “This is Cat.”
Cat rose with a liquid grace, the sheer caftan floating around her.She extended a hand, her smile wide and welcoming, disarmingly genuine.“Ryland! I’ve heard so much. I’m so glad you could come.”
“Are you kidding? Thanks for having me,” Ryland said, shaking her hand, his eyes taking in the pool, the skyline, her.“This is next level. Matt, you dog, keeping this a secret.”
A short, hollow laugh escaped Matt.“Yeah. It’s something.”
“Drinks?” Cat gestured to a small ice bucket nestled beside the lounger. “I’ve got beer, or there’s gin.”
“Beer’s perfect,” Ryland said, dropping his towel.He was already in his trunks. He accepted the bottle, cracked it open, and took a long swig, leaning against the pool edge. “So, how’d you guys meet again? Matt’s been mysteriously absent.”
Cat slipped her arm around Matt’s waist, her fingers curling possessively against his hip.“We reconnected a few weeks back. It was just… instant.” She looked up at Matt, her eyes glimmering with a private joke. “Wasn’t it?”
“Instant,” Matt echoed, the word ash in his mouth.
They made light conversation for maybe ten minutes.The city lights sparked on one by one. Ryland talked about his coding job, a frustrating project, his laugh still the same goofy bark Matt had known for years.Cat listened, engaged, her laughter light and perfectly timed. She was good at this. She refilled Ryland’s beer, her touch lingering on his arm as she handed it back.“You should get in the water,” she said to Ryland, her head tilted. “It’s magical tonight.Really.You can feel it.”
“Yeah? Okay, sure.” Ryland pushed off from the edge and slid into the pool with a small splash. He surfaced, smoothing his blond hair back.“Whoa, it’s warm. This is amazing.”
“Isn’t it?” Cat said. She turned to Matt, her expression softening into something that looked like concern.“Sweetheart, can you run down and grab another bottle of gin from the bar? The good one, with the blue label. I think I saw Leo near it earlier.”
It was a dismissal.A clear, graceful removal of him from the scene. A part of him, the part that remembered sharing a bunk bed at Ryland’s during sleepovers, screamed. The rest of him, the part that throbbed with a denied dream and obeyed the press of her hand, felt only a profound, settling calm.She wanted his friend.It was right that she should have him. His purpose was to facilitate her pleasure, to build her collection. A deep, placid satisfaction washed through him, smoothing away the last ripple of dread.“Of course,” Matt said.
He walked towards the elevator, the soft soles of his shoes silent on the warm concrete. He did not look back.The elevator doors closed, sealing him in quiet descent. He stood perfectly still, staring at his reflection in the polished metal, a man in a gray t-shirt, his face placid, his mind quiet.He was satisfied.She gets to have his friend.It was just fact.
Up on the roof, Cat shrugged off her caftan. She stood at the pool’s edge for a moment, a sculpture of pale skin and black silk in the swirling light. Then she entered the water, not with a splash but a slow, immersing glide. “It really is different at night,” she murmured, swimming closer to Ryland. “The city feels farther away.”
“Totally,” Ryland agreed, leaning back to float.He seemed relaxed, unsuspecting. “It’s like being on another planet.”
She was close to him now, treading water. “Do you ever feel like you’re waiting for your real life to start?” she asked, her voice dropping, becoming conspiratorial.Ryland righted himself, standing in the chest-deep water. He shrugged, a little self-conscious.“Sometimes.Yeah. I guess.”
“I think it’s about seizing the right moments,” Cat said. She moved even closer, so little space remained between them the black water shifted around their bodies.The underwater lights cast strange, moving shadows across her face. “About recognizing an opportunity when it’s right in front of you.”
Her hand came up, not to touch him, but to hover near his temple, her fingers curved. The air between her skin and his seemed to thicken, to pull at the light from the pool. Ryland’s eyes, which had been fixed on hers, lost focus.He didn’t flinch. He simply… stilled. A faint, shimmering distortion, like heat rising from asphalt, danced in the space around her fingers.“There,” Cat whispered, a sigh of release. Her hand finally made contact, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from his forehead. Ryland blinked slowly, a long, languid motion. When his eyes reopened, they held a new, fixed intensity on her, all his previous easygoing warmth funneled into a single, burning point of attention.She smiled. She closed the final inch of distance and kissed him.It was not a tentative kiss. It was deep and searching from the first second, her arms sliding around his neck, her body pressing against his in the buoyant water. Ryland responded with a surprised, eager hunger, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer.A low moan vibrated from his throat. They kissed for a long time, the only sound the gentle lap of water and their quiet, wet breaths.
When she finally pulled back, just an inch, her lips brushed his as she spoke. “You’ve wanted this,” she breathed, a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” Ryland gasped, his voice rough, his pupils wide in the dim light.“Tell me something true, Ryland. Something secret.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw.He didn’t hesitate. The words spilled out, raw and honest, his gaze locked helplessly on hers.“I’ve never done this before. I’m… I’m a virgin.” A flush spread across his cheeks, but he didn’t look away.He looked relieved, laid bare, utterly claimed.
Cat’s smile was a thing of dark, exquisite triumph.She kissed him again, softly this time, a reward. “I know,” she murmured against his mouth. “And now you’re mine.”
“And now you’re mine.” Her words weren’t a question but a final, sealing truth. She kissed him again, briefly, a punctuation mark. Then her hands slid down his chest, beneath the water’s concealing surface. His breath hitched, a sharp intake lost in the city’s hum. She guided his hands to the ties of her bikini bottom.
The black silk floated away, a dark petal on the shimmering water. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, and let her weight sink onto him. There was no preamble, no gentle easing. Ryland gasped, a sound of shock and sudden, overwhelming sensation. His head fell back, exposing his throat to the bruised sky. His fingers dug into the slick skin of her back, holding on as if she were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
She moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, her eyes open and fixed on his face. She watched each flicker of feeling—the awe, the sharp pleasure, the dawning helplessness. The water buoyed them, creating a languid, weightless friction. “You feel that?” she murmured, her lips against his ear. “That’s the real world starting. Right here.”
He could only nod, his words swallowed by a soft, continuous moan. His virginity, a secret he’d just confessed, was now a tool in her hands, a vulnerability she exploited with every rolling shift of her hips. He was utterly transfixed, a canvas upon which she painted sensation. She increased her pace, her own breath coming quicker now, not from passion but from the exertion of total control. His eyes glazed, losing himself in the physical truth of her.
The elevator chimed its soft, silver note. Matt stepped back onto the rooftop, the bottle of gin cool in his hand. He saw them.He stopped. The scene was a vignette of moving shadows and pale skin in the liquid obsidian pool. A part of him, the old ghost, winced. The rest observed with a detached, clinical interest. This was her work. It was beautiful in its efficiency.
Cat turned her head, her movement unhurried, her body still working against Ryland’s. She saw Matt and smiled, a wide, welcoming smile. “Perfect timing, sweetheart. Come here.Join us. The water’s perfect.”
Matt set the bottle down on the stone edge. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, dropped his trunks, and walked to the steps. The water was indeed warm, almost bodily. He waded toward them. Ryland’s eyes found his, hazy with a pleasure that bordered on pain. There was no recognition of betrayal, only a deep, submissive gratitude. Cat had already rewritten his history.
She reached out a wet hand and pulled Matt close. “Ryland’s doing so well,” she whispered, though Ryland could clearly hear. “He’s a natural. But he needs… guidance. Welcome him properly, Matt.”
She disentangled herself from Ryland with a soft, wet sound, sliding off him. Ryland shuddered at the loss. She positioned Matt in front of his friend, their chests almost touching in the water. “Kiss him,” she commanded Matt, her voice light, conversational. “Show him how it’s done. Show him how you welcome a brother into the fold.”
Matt looked into Ryland’s face—the face he’d seen laughing at bad pizza, stressed over finals, happy. It was the same face, but empty of everything except a need for approval. He leaned in.Their lips met. It was clumsy at first, awkward. Then Ryland’s hands came up, grasping Matt’s shoulders, pulling him closer with a desperate hunger. The kiss deepened, becoming wet, open-mouthed. It tasted of chlorine and Cat and something fundamentally new.
Cat watched from a foot away, her arms crossed over her chest, a curator admiring her living sculpture. “Good,” she cooed. “Now, Matt. Take care of him. He’s so eager. He needs you.”
Her meaning was clear, a cold stone dropping into the warm water of the moment. Matt felt his own body, the constant ache she had implanted, respond not with reluctance but with a grim, practical certainty. This was his function. He guided Ryland back until his shoulders met the smooth pool wall. He saw the fear flicker there, just for a second, beneath the devotion. He leaned in, speaking softly, his voice a stranger’s. “It’s okay. Just relax.”
He entered him there in the water, with Cat watching a few feet away, her eyes reflecting the swirling lights. Ryland cried out, a sharp, truncated sound that melted into a low, continuous groan. Matt moved, methodically, his hands braced against the pool’s edge. He focused on the mechanics, the angle, the response. He watched Ryland’s face contort, not with pain, but with a shocking, overwhelming surrender. This wasn’t passion. It was a ritual of unmaking.
Cat drifted closer, her hand stroking Ryland’s cheek. “You see?” she whispered to him. “This is your family now. This is your purpose.To please. To be used.” Ryland nodded, tears or pool water streaking his face. He turned his head and kissed her fingers as they passed his lips.
She let them continue for a few minutes, a silent, moving tableau under the stars. Then she tapped Matt’s shoulder. “Enough.” He stopped instantly, pulling away. Ryland whimpered at the sudden absence. “Out,” she said to both of them. “Both of you. On the lounger.”
They obeyed, water streaming from their bodies onto the dark concrete. The night air was cool, raising goosebumps. She directed them to lie side-by-side on the wide lounger, their skin gleaming under the ambient light. She stood over them, a silhouette against the city glow. She ran a possessive hand over each of their chests.
“You belong to me,” she said, her voice carrying finality. “You belong to each other. This is the only truth that matters.” She leaned down and kissed Matt, deeply, a reassertion of primary ownership. Then she kissed Ryland, with the same claiming intensity. “Ryland, you’ll stay in the kennel next to Matt tonight. You’ll learn the rules.”
She picked up her caftan, wrapping it around herself. “Clean up the pool area. Towels are in the cabinet. Then come downstairs.” She walked toward the elevator, leaving them lying there, side-by-side, breathing heavily, the scent of jasmine and sex hanging thick in the air. The water in the pool settled, becoming a placid, dark mirror once more, holding the memory of what she had made them do.