Chapter 2: The Message
A few days passed, marked only by the sparse, anodyne ping of WhatsApp messages. Lunch with an old friend tomorrow, Racheal wrote one evening. Nothing unusual. The following afternoon, another notification appeared. Met a ‘Chloe’ today. Friend of a friend. Quirky thing. Invited her to Cherry Trees for afternoon drinks tomorrow. Richard read the message without paying much attention. He could imagine the topic of conversation, knowing Racheal he thought smiling to himself.
The vague amusement lasted until two days later, when another notification buzzed during his drive home. He pulled into his garage, the engine dying into silence, before he looked at the screen.
Remember what we were talking about, Racheal’s message began. Well I think I may have found someone who fits the bill perfectly.
The garage air went still. It wouldn’t be ‘Chloe’ by any chance? he replied, his thumbs feeling clumsy.
How perceptive, she answered immediately. The three dancing dots pulsed for a long moment. She’s a 5’10”, 50-year-old black-haired beauty. intense green eyes. Quirky, with an incredible sleeve tattoo all black and green—apparently she designed it herself.
Richard’s grip tightened on the phone. Oh, and incredibly long legs and huge breasts, the next message flashed. You’d love her.
He stared at the words, a hot, shameful thrill cutting through him. She told him about their afternoon spent together when they both drank and laughed far too much. But we got to know a lot about one another. A final message arrived, followed by a photo. It was a selfie of the two of them in Racheal’s garden, faces close, glasses of white wine in hand. Chloe’s smile was wide and unguarded, her eyes indeed a striking, laughing green. The tattoo sleeve was a complex flow of dark ink and colour. She was, as described, breathtaking.
Richard stared at the glowing screen, Chloe’s laughing face a puncture in his ordered world. Racheal’s next message scrolled up, a clinical dossier of seduction. She’s a friend of a friend, it began, we met for lunch days ago and just clicked.
He read how Chloe owned a converted mill, a gallery-studio for her art, while her husband Ray chased rare books across continents. A marriage of convenience, nothing sexual for years, Racheal typed, each detail a calculated brushstroke. She’d become reclusive, but meeting me…well, she said she’s suddenly realised what missing out. Of course ! I’m going to ‘Rachealize’ her she added
The clinical summary made it sound like a business merger. Richard’s knuckles ached around the phone. Another message arrived. She’s intrigued. A photo followed. It was a closer shot, just Chloe, her head tilted back against a sun-dappled willow. The dark ink of her tattoo disappeared beneath the neckline of her dress. She’s coming here Thursday for lunch. You should ‘drop by.’
“Missing out on what exactly?” Richard asked, his voice a low murmur in the silent garage.
“Well, you know me, once I’ve had a drink or two, we ‘kind of’ discussed my little fantasy,” Racheal’s reply came, the text vivid with her casual tone. “And surprisingly, Chloe seemed intrigued. In fact, I told her about you, well us in fact, and she said she wished something exciting like we have could happen to her.”
“And I said, well if you’re serious……” Racheal’s final message hung there, an open doorway. The three dots pulsed again, then her next words appeared. “She didn’t say no. She finished her wine, looked right at me, and said ‘Tell me more about this friend of yours.’ So I did.”
A cold, thrilling current shot through him. “You described me?”
“I described the fantasy,” she corrected. “The watching. The energy. She listened, Richard. She didn’t flinch. She just traced the rim of her glass and asked what you looked like.”
And…? he replied.
“Well, I showed her a photo of you and it seemed to have the right reaction,” Racheal replied with a smiley face emoji. “She’s bored Richard and I think the idea of a little indiscretion excites her.” The words glowed on his screen, a verdict. He saw his own face, the one from the golf outing photo Racheal kept, being studied by those intense green eyes. A transaction of pure appetite was being negotiated in his absence.
His cock twitched, a blunt, animal response in the silent garage. He typed a single character: ?.
Her answer was immediate. “Her exact words were, ‘Well, he looks like he knows what to do with it.’” Richard closed his eyes, a low groan escaping him. The vulgarity, the sheer directness of it, was a key turning in a lock deep inside him. He imagined Chloe’s voice, smoky and unimpressed, delivering that line.
He imagined Chloe’s voice, smoky and unimpressed, delivering that line.
His phone vibrated again, a sharp buzz against his palm.
Racheal’s next message glowed on the screen: “Try and make Thursday , it’ll be a good opportunity for you two to meet……….. and if you like each other I’ll arrange something. Oh, I won’t tell her you’re coming though”
“OK, as it happens I’ve got a meeting on Thursday morning and will be passing yours early afternoon so I should be able to make something work”I’ll be there,” he replied
Her winking emoji reply seemed to pulse on the screen.
Chloe was awake early on Thursday morning, the sun already bright through her bedroom window. She lay in bed, the memory of Racheal’s proposition playing on a loop behind her eyes. Was she really serious?
She had thought of little else since that afternoon, the idea a live wire in her quiet, curated life. Chloe let her mind wander through the shocking, lurid details, a flush spreading across her chest. But what if she was?
She dismissed the idea with a slow shake of her head and got out of bed. The shower’s warm water cascaded over her naked body, tracing the intricate paths of her black and green tattoo. Her mind wondered again, and soon so did her hands, her fingers finding that spot of intense, focused pleasure beneath the stream.
She fed it, imagining a stranger’s hands—Racheal’s watching eyes—until her knees buckled and she came with a sharp, swallowed cry against the tile. Slaked, she turned off the water. She dried herself slowly, the towel rough on her sensitized skin.
Then she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Her olive complexion glowed, her long black hair cascading in damp waves over her full, firm breasts. The silver hoops through her nipples caught the light, and she gave one a slight tug, a bolt of sweet sensation shooting straight to her core.
Her flat stomach and the jewel in her navel led the eye down to that neat, dark landing strip. She saw a woman who looked capable of anything. A thrill, cold and bright, shot through her.
She dressed with deliberate care, choosing a simple linen dress that she knew would cling in the summer breeze. The clock on her table read 11:07. Her stomach tightened.
She picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. A text to Racheal would be so easy. “Something came up, rain check?”
She put the phone down, unanswered. Instead, she applied a dark red lipstick, blotting it on a tissue. The woman in the mirror looked back, her green eyes no longer laughing but steady and resolved.
She grabbed her keys, the metal cool in her palm. The drive to Cherry Trees would only take twenty minutes. As she drove thorough the countryside she could’t help but let her mind drift to what Racheal had discussed with her. Normally she’d have dismissed the idea out of hand, but the whole idea had excited her. “Fuck Chloe what the hell are you letting yourself get drawn into?” And she drew closer to Cherry trees her heart raced with nervous excitement. “It’s just lunch “ she told herself, she’d spent far too much time as a reclusive workaholic. Today was about her and enjoying good company. She had a few projects that needed her attention and she could have easily cancelled, but Rachel's draw was too powerful. “So are you really serious Racheal and have something dirty planned ……. Fuck, I really do hope so” she said to herself as she pulled onto the gravel drive and switch the engine off.
.Inside, Racheal had just finished preparing a chicken salad when she saw the car through the window. She had prepared everything in the garden, the table set in the dappled shade, gin and tonics ready to be poured with beads of condensation already tracing their descent.
She answered the door and was momentarily speechless. Chloe stood there as she eyed her, the linen dress clinging to her hips, the dark sweep of her hair against her sun-warmed skin. She really did look stunning.
“Well, don’t you look a picture,” Racheal finally managed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, catching the faint, clean scent of her shampoo. “Come through, it’s glorious out back.”
The garden was a bowl of sunlight and birdsong. They settled at the wrought-iron table, the cold glasses passing between them with a soft clink. “So,” Chloe said, taking a long sip, her eyes closing briefly as the cold bit. “Just us girls, then.”
“For now,” Racheal said, her tone light as air. She watched Chloe’s face, the flicker in those green eyes, the way her thumb stroked the glass. “Unless the wind changes.”
They talked of inconsequential things—an exhibition, a troublesome supplier for Chloe’s gallery—but the subtext hummed between them like a power line. The first gin vanished, then a second was poured. Racheal saw the looseness enter Chloe’s shoulders, the sharper glint in her gaze.
“You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about our last conversation,” Chloe said, tracing a pattern in the condensation on the table.
“Which part?” Racheal asked, though she knew.
“You know……..The watching part.” Chloe looked directly at her, no laughter in her eyes now, just a dark, open curiosity. “The logistics of it. The… mechanics.”
Before Racheal could answer, the gate at the side of the garden clicked open. Both women turned. Richard stood there, backlit by the sun, wearing jeans, a tan waist coat and blue shirt. He feigned a polite, surprised smile. “Racheal. Sorry to drop in unannounced. I was just passing.”
A silence hung, thick as the garden’s scent. Racheal watched Chloe’s face, saw the quick intake of breath, the analytical sweep of her eyes taking him in—his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the storm-colored eyes. “Richard, what a lovely surprise,” Racheal said, her voice smooth. “Join us. This is my friend, Chloe.”
Richard offered a hand, his grip firm and warm around Chloe’s cooler fingers. “A pleasure,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the table.
“Likewise,” Chloe replied, her gaze dropping to his mouth for a fraction of a second before meeting his eyes again. The air between them thickened, charged with a silent, mutual appraisal.
“I’ll go and freshen up our drinks and let you two get acquainted,” said Racheal, rising with a fluid grace that felt like a staged exit. She collected the glasses, her fingers brushing Richard’s as she took his, a secret signal.
“So, you have an art studio in a mill,” Richard said, settling into the vacated chair. “Very quaint.”
Chloe told him all about her business, how she had specialized in fantasy art, quite lucrative a few years ago, but now she does designs for tattoo artists, still very good financially. She told him about a few other projects she had going on, her words flowing more easily under his focused attention. He listened, his eyes never leaving her face, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Richard said what an amazing and talented artist she was, adding how much he liked her tattoo. “May I?” he asked, his hand hovering near her bare arm. She nodded, a sharp inhale catching as his fingertips grazed the intricate ink. He traced the sweeping curve of the design, the dragon, the fairies and the elf’s, and she told him about the significance of each character.
She explained how by adding tiny amounts of red and white into the mainly black and green design really made it ‘pop’ as she put it. His finger followed a crimson highlight along the dragon’s spine, a touch so deliberate it felt like a caress. “It’s stunning work,” he murmured, his voice intimate in the shaded quiet. “The artist captured a fierce, beautiful energy.”
Racheal returned with three fresh gin and tonics, the ice cracking softly. She placed them down, her eyes missing nothing—the diminished space between their chairs, the focused intensity of Richard’s touch on Chloe’s skin. “Everything ok, I see,” she said, her tone dry. She did not sit. “You know, I’ve just remembered a call I must make. Terrible timing. Do entertain Richard for a moment, Chloe.”
She turned and walked back toward the house, her departure absolute. The garden silence descended, but it was a different silence now, humming with potential. Richard’s hand remained on her arm, his thumb now making slow, clockwise circles on the inner skin of her wrist. Chloe’s pulse hammered against the pressure. She took a long swallow of her drink, the cold doing nothing to douse the heat uncoiling in her belly.
“She’s not subtle, is she?” Chloe said, a shaky laugh escaping her.
“Subtlety is overrated,” Richard replied, his thumb still circling her wrist. The gin swam in her veins, a warm, blurring courage. He leaned closer, the scent of his skin cutting through the floral air. “So what do you think about Racheal’s little indecent proposal?”
Chloe, feeling light-headed from the strong G&T’s, was off-guard. She didn’t expect the question so baldly put. She recovered, her green eyes locking onto his with a sudden, fierce clarity.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t …. Interested shall I say, especially now we’ve met. But I’m not a pawn in her little game,” she said, her voice low but steady. “ I rather like the idea.actually” She paused, letting the admission hang. “But, If anything was to happen, I’d do it for me.”
She took another deliberate sip, then placed her glass down with a soft click. “And another thing, since we’re on the subject.” She leaned in, her gaze unwavering. “I don’t want to be made love to, Richard. I want to be fucked. And fucked hard. I quite like the idea of being dominated ” The vulgar words hung between them, a challenge. “Is that something you’re prepared to do?”
Richard didn’t flinch. A slow, dark smile spread across his face, the polite mask dissolving completely. He released her wrist, but only to slide his hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her gently but firmly toward him, until their lips were almost touching.
“Absolutely, if you want me to treat you like my little slut” he breathed. “It would be my pleasure.”Then he closed the distance, his mouth claiming hers with a possessiveness that stole the air from her lungs.
The kiss wasn't tender; it was a consuming, open-mouthed clash of gin and want. Her fingers dug into the cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer as his tongue swept against hers. He tasted her sharp intellect and her sharper gin, a combination that made his head spin.
“Well, well,” said Racheal as she came back, seeming you two are getting on just fine she said with a grin.
Chloe broke the kiss, biting Richard’s lip just a little too hard. A coppery tang bloomed between them. “Testing the merchandise,” she panted, her green eyes blazing with a feral light. Richard’s grin was all teeth as he sucked the sting from his lip, his hand sliding from her neck to fist tightly in her long black hair giving it a less than gentle tug, to Chloe’s approval "I generally like to look at the goods," said Richard as he looked her up and down, his voice a rough scrape of desire.
"Oh, you want a look, do you?" Chloe said, the alcohol clearly gone to her head, her chin tilting in defiance. She stood, staring at Richard, and without the slightest embarrassment , stood and slipped her dress off her shoulders, letting it drop to her waist.She stood there, her olive skin almost glowing; both Richard and Racheal stood open-mouthed, staring at her naked body. Her huge breasts were perfect, heavy and full with dark, puckered areolas, and then they noticed her pierced nipples, the silver hoops catching the dappled light. A line of elegant script was tattooed in gracefully written script just below her breasts, the black ink a stark contrast against her skin.
“Well?” Chloe challenged, her breath quickening, her gaze fixed on Richard’s stormy eyes.
A low, appreciative growl escaped him as he drank in the sight, his cock hardening unbearably against his trousers. Racheal didn’t move, didn’t speak, her blue eyes wide and blazing as they traveled over Chloe’s exposed flesh, the fantasy made terrifyingly real before her.
“Satisfied with the merchandise?” Chloe breathed, her fingers twitching at her sides.
“Not even close,” Richard said, and released her hair to reach out, his calloused thumb brushing roughly over one silver-adorned nipple. She gasped, arching into the touch, a jolt of pure need straight to her core.
Racheal finally exhaled, a shaky, audible sound in the quiet garden.
“Enough of all this pretence” said Chloe. “You two have clearly engineered this ‘little gathering. If you really want me Richard, now’s your chance” she said letting her dress fall to the floor leaving her standing there in a pair of panties and Birkenstock sandals on her feet. She reached down and took Richard’s hand as she walked toward the house and said one word “come”.
Richard stood and followed and turned to look at Racheal. For a moment she stood there in the garden watching them both with a look of pure desire on her face. She looked at Richard and mouthed something he didn’t catch, but as they entered the house Racheal picked up her drink and followed at a discrete distance.