Chapter 25: The Audition
The living room hummed with a strange, golden tension. Sunlight sliced through the blinds, laying hot stripes across Clara’s perched knees and the pale, expensive skin of her thigh. The TV murmured in the corner, a silent, frantic ballet of bodies that no one was watching, but everyone felt.Catriona had orchestrated the afternoon with a general’s precision. Coffee had been served, then abandoned.Wine was poured—a deep, sanguine red. The glasses sat on the table, one smudged with Clara’s lipstick, a perfect half-moon of defiance.Clara swirled her wine, her sharp features softened by the low light. She was talking about Mark, her husband, her words clipped. “…and he just wants to schedule intimacy.Wednesday nights. Like it’s a fucking conference call.”
“Sounds tedious,” Catriona said, stretching like a cat on the opposite end of the sofa. Her foot brushed Aidan’s leg where he sat in the armchair.“It is. It’s… predictable.” Clara’s eyes, a cool hazel, flicked to Aidan, then away. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like.Just once. With someone who doesn’t think a text message is foreplay.”
The air thickened.Aidan took a sip of whiskey, the burn a welcome anchor.
Catriona leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “What would you want?If you could have anything. No rules.”
Clara laughed, a short, brittle sound.She looked at Catriona, a long, assessing look that bypassed Aidan completely. “Honestly? I’ve always wondered what it would be like with a man who… well.Who’s built like yours is. No offense, Aidan.”
“None taken,” he managed, his voice rough.“See?” Catriona said, her smile widening. “No offense.Just curiosity. I get it.” She reached over and took Clara’s hand, their fingers intertwining naturally. “What if you didn’t just have to wonder?”
Clara’s breath hitched.Her gaze darted between them. “Cat, what are you—”
“I want to watch,” Catriona said, plain and simple. The porn channel flickered, casting a blue wash over her intense face.“I want to watch him with you. And I want you to watch me with him. I want to be in the middle of it.”
Silence, save for the soft moans from the television.Clara’s cheeks flushed. She didn’t pull her hand away. “Mark would…”
“Mark doesn’t need to know,” Catriona whispered.“This is for us.For you.For me. For the fantasy you just admitted to.”
Clara’s eyes found Aidan’s again, but this time they held. They weren’t cool anymore. They were hot, searching, filled with a daring he’d never seen in her. “Is this… is this what you did with Siobhan?”
Catriona’s smile was answer enough.“And it was incredible.But this… this is different. This time, I’m not just watching.” She let go of Clara’s hand and stood up, a fluid movement that commanded the room. She walked to Aidan, placed her hands on his shoulders.“Stand up.”
He did, his heart a drum against his ribs.
“Undress,” Catriona said, her voice leaving no room for debate.It wasn’t a request. It was a presentation.His fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans. Clara watched, unblinking, her wine forgotten. He pushed his jeans and boxers down in one motion, the cool air a shock. His cock, already half-aroused from the conversation and the charged atmosphere, sprang free, thickening rapidly under the twin points of their attention.Clara’s lips parted. A quiet, “Oh, fuck,” escaped her, not vulgar, but reverent. Her gaze travelled the length of him, widening at the sight she’d only imagined.“Jesus, Cat. You didn’t exaggerate.”
“I never do,” Catriona murmured, her own pride evident. She turned to Clara, her expression softening into an invitation. “Would you like to touch him?”
Clara stood, a little unsteady.She walked over, stopping just before him. The scent of her perfume, something citrus and sharp, mixed with the whiskey and Catriona’s softer, vanilla scent.She reached out, her fingertips surprisingly cool as they brushed his shaft, then curled around him. Her grasp was tentative at first, then firmer, exploring his weight and girth. A shiver ran through her. “My God.”
“Kneel,” Catriona commanded softly, standing beside them, a witness and a director.
Clara hesitated for only a second before sinking gracefully to her knees on the rug.The afternoon sun caught the auburn highlights in her dark hair. She looked up at Aidan, her practiced cynicism gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated want.Then she looked at Catriona, seeking permission, confirmation.
Catriona nodded, her hand coming to rest possessively on Aidan’s hip.“Take him in your mouth. Show me how you’d do it if no one was watching.”
Clara’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. Then she leaned forward, and the first hot, wet touch of her mouth on the head of his cock drew a ragged groan from deep in his chest. It was different from Siobhan’s eager enthusiasm.This was slow, deliberate, almost analytical. She licked and swirled, learning his shape, before parting her lips wider and taking him in.
The sensation was overwhelming. The tight, slick heat of her mouth, the visual of Clara—composed, sharp-tongued Clara—on her knees before him, and above it all, Catriona’s rapt, gleaming gaze.“Good,” Catriona whispered, her fingers tightening on his hip. “See how she takes you?Look at her, Aidan. Look at my friend worshiping you.” Her other hand reached down and stroked Clara’s hair, not gently, but with ownership.“That’s it, Clara.Relax your throat. Take more.”
Clara moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight to his core. Her hands came up to grip his thighs, her nails biting slightly into his skin. She began to move, finding a rhythm, her head bobbing, her eyes closed in concentration.“Open your eyes,” Catriona said. “Look at him while you do it.”
Clara’s eyes fluttered open, hazy with lust. She held Aidan’s gaze as she took him deeper, her own need reflected back at him, raw and undeniable.Catriona watched, her breath coming faster. “You look so good like this,” she purred, her words for both of them.“Both of you. My handsome husband. My beautiful, hungry friend.” She bent slightly, her voice dropping to a filthy, intimate whisper directly in Clara’s ear, yet loud enough for Aidan to hear. “Do you feel how big he is?Do you finally know?I want you to make him lose control. I want to watch him come in that pretty mouth.”
The words, the image, the sheer depravity of it tipped Aidan over an edge. His control, bolstered by years of discipline, began to fracture. A deep, guttural sound escaped him as his hips gave a small, involuntary thrust.Clara took it, her eyes watering but never leaving his. She increased her pace, her moans growing more urgent, one of her hands sliding between her own legs, pressed against the rug.
Catriona saw it.She smiled, a victorious, radiant thing. “That’s it,” she breathed. “Now you’re both mine.”