Finding Eve
Book One of The Other Side of Eden
 
 
Dear Readers,

I start this story with a lie. I hope you take no offence.

This is not a prologue. These are two epilogues to a story you have yet to read. A tale of love, as I have for you. A tale of choice, as you will have at the end of each release. And a tale of surrender, as I will, to your decisions.

At the start or end of each release, you will find two choices.

Now, to be clear: this is not a 'Build Your Own Adventure' type story. I have already committed myself to an ending that will include both epilogues below. The destination is set in stone.

However, you get to choose the route we take.

Your choice will determine the narrative flavour, the style, and the emotional texture of the next release.

Here are your paths for tonight. Pick your poison in the comments.

YOUR COMMENTS DETERMINE THE COMING CHAPTERS

Your choices tonight are:

Epilogue 1: Finally Home

Who doesn't love a great sissy? Is she your choice?
 
Epilogue 2: Cut the Feed

Perhaps you prefer the view from the Master Suite? Do you want to end the night with the Anchors?

---

 
 
Epilogue 1: Finally home.
 

 
I stood before the glass.

The Void was gone. The velvet floor was gone, too. There was only the mirror, stretching up into the dark like a monolith.

I saw 'Him'.

A man made of hard lines and cold logic. Shoulders that carried too much weight. Eyes that were tired of looking at problems and sad things. A man who frowned because thinking was his only defence.

"Happy?" a voice growled from behind me.

I spun around.

He owned that chair. He had thrown away his jacket, and his tie was loose. He looked so powerful and was looking at me with eyes that wanted to burn me alive.

"Look at yourself," he growled. His anger in his voice and the strength of his stare felt like they were choking me. "Look at yourself, you fucking sissy."

He pointed a finger at the mirror.

"Your hair."

I turned back and watched in shock as it sprouted. The strands lengthened and spilt over my shoulders like living vines. Thicker. Shinier. Heavier.

"It's... It's so much," I whimpered, as my brain tried to process the new length.

No, I told myself. I wasn't 'him' anymore, was I? Sissies don't 'process' unless really needed.

"It's so pretty," I breathed, touching the silk. "So soft and shiny for Daddy to pull."

"Your hips," he commanded. "Look at them."

I looked down. The rigid frame dissolved and liquefied. It was expanding, curving out into a lush hourglass. The hard muscle melted into my soft new form.

"Impractical," the old voice in my head whispered as my centre of gravity shifted.

'Shut up,' I told the voice. Curves aren't for utility. Curves are for grabbing.

"So wide," I whimpered, my hands tracing the new curve of my own flesh. "Big soft handles for Daddy."

"Your lips," he sneered. "Look at that mouth."

I watched them bloom. My lips reacted to his voice, swelling, reddening, and turning into that plush, wet pout that looked permanently welcoming.

"A bimbo's lips," he spat. "A cocksucker's lips."

"And your fucking nose," he hissed.

Ping.

The piercing reflected back at me. It wasn't just jewellery. It was a brand burned into my face.

"And that," he pointed below. "Show me the failure that you are."

I hiked up my nightie.

Ohhh... it was transforming. It was shrinking and softening until it was nothing but a cute little button. The colour shifted from flesh to that hot, blushing rose I loved.

"Pink," I giggled. "My sissy clitty is pink."

"You look pathetic," he said, he nearly screamed at me. "You are just a stupid and useless slut."

The words hit me like a slap just as he intended. 'Stupid'. 'Useless'.

I flinched. Tears pricked my new, pretty lashes. The Man in the mirror wanted to argue. He wanted to prove his intelligence, his competence, his worth...

But I wasn't. I was me.

Stop it, I ordered my brain. Arguing hurts. Thinking like 'him' hurts. Be empty. Think like the pretty little sissy you are.

I took a deep breath. I let the thoughts drain out of my ears like dirty water.

Daddy didn't mean stupid like a mistake. He clearly meant 'silly'.

Did Daddy forget that sissies are meant to be silly? We didn't want to think about the world or the noise. We just wanted to be useful and giggle.

And useless? No.

I closed my eyes and let the whispers float by like little dandelions. I heard the voices that loved me.

"The most useful thing in the house." "So, so wanted." "My perfect, helpful baby." "Holding our world together."

Yes, it was their voices, and they loved me. Not because I served but because I made them happy. I wasn't useless. I was... wanted and precious. I was the big, warm hug that would never, ever let them go.

I made a choice right then. A big, important choice for a little girl.

I didn't want to be smart anymore. Smart was heavy. Smart was sad.

I closed the door on the thinking room. Click.

I opened the door to the pink room.

I'm just a sissy, I told myself, feeling my brain go soft and fuzzy. Mmmm... it was so nice. Sissies didn't have to worry. Sissies just had to jiggle, smile, and say yes.

It felt so good to let go. It felt like taking off a tight shoe.

I'm helpful, I thought, looking at my boobies. I'm pretty.

If I'm empty, I realised, my clitty giving a happy little twitch, then Daddy can fill me up.

I looked at the reflection. Big tits. Wide hips. Empty head.

Bimbo.

The word floated through my mind, like cotton candy in the wind.

'Daddy's little bimbo.'

I forced my mind to let go completely. I relaxed, breathed in deep, and emptied it of all 'his' thoughts.

I wasn't broken. I was a helpful sissy ready to show her daddy how much she loved him.

"I'm silly," I whispered to the mirror, testing the word. It tasted like sugar. "I'm a silly, helpful bimbo."

I turned around.

I faced him. The throne. The suit. The power.

Daddy’s eyes bored into me. He looked angry. He looked like he wanted to tear the chiffon off my body. But beneath the rage... There was heat. There was Lust.

He wanted the bimbo.

I smiled. It wasn't a clever smile. It was vacant. Happy.

"I can handle Daddy," I thought. "I just have to be a good girl."

I dropped to my knees. looked him in the eyes, and I crawled.

The floor was so soft, like the inside of a jewellery box where a pretty ring sleeps.

Daddy didn't call me. He didn't have to. A Sissy always knew when it was time to come home.

I scurried towards him. My hips were wiggling, and my big boobies were bouncing all over the place. I felt so small crawling to my Daddy, but it felt right. I was where I was supposed to be.

As I got closer to him, the air got all sparkly, and my lavender nightie simply went poof!

I was so... so naked!

"Look at you," Daddy sneered, his eyes eating me up like I was candy. "You dirty little whore."

He raised a finger. It glowed red hot, and he pointed at my lower back.

Ahh... it burnt.

But sissies like it when it stings a little. He was marking me. He slashed big, dark lines on my skin. He tried to write CUMSLUT. He was trying so hard to be mean!

But my skin drank the ink like strawberry syrup. The letters curled. They got soft... and bubbly... and pink. Just like me

'Daddy’s Girl.'

Daddy froze. His eyes got so huge! He poked his finger at my thigh, hard. The word TRASH burnt itself into me. Ouch.

But it twisted. It turned into 'Sissy loves Daddy'. Oooh, and it glittered.

"You..." he gasped as he backed up against the leather seat. "How?"

"So pretty!" I giggled, shaking my booty so the fresh ink stretched over my soft, squishy curves. "Name tags for your Sissy! You like, Daddy? I made them pink just for you!"

He looked scared. "Don't come any closer," he nearly yelled.

"But I need you, Daddy," I cooed worriedly. I crawled faster to get to him. "I need you so much!"

I reached his feet and nuzzled his big, shiny shoe.

He lunged, and his big, heavy hand grabbed a bunch of my hair. He yanked me up!

"Eep!" I squealed as my toes scrambled to find the floor.

He stood up. He was so big! He looked like a big, mean giant, and he looked down at me like I was a tiny little bug.

His hand dove between my legs.

He grabbed my little clitty.

"Mmm!" I moaned, the sound slipping out before I could catch it.

He didn't find what he was looking for. He saw what I loved. It was soft and happily asleep against my thigh, refusing to wake up.

He squeezed the nub. He pinched it... hard!

"Ah!" I gasped, tears pricking my eyes. It hurt! But... ooh, it felt electric too, like a lightning bolt made of sugar.

"Where is it?" he shouted, his voice shaking. "Where is the man?"

He dug his fingers in, pulling at my soft skin, but I just whimpered and melted against him. It felt so nice to be handled by Daddy's big, strong hands.

"Useless," he snarled as he spun me around like a rag doll!

He bent me forward, smashing my boobies onto the seat of the throne. My big, wiggly bum—stamped with his name—stuck way up in the air.

"If you don't have a real cock," he growled as his hand angrily slid into my crack, "then you're just a hole."

He reached for my sissy pussy. His finger tried to push in. He tried to take the one thing I wasn't ready to give yet.

"Please," I whimpered, my hips locking up tight. "No, Daddy."

He pushed harder. "Open up bitch."

"Please, Daddy, no!" I cried. "I'm not ready!"

He didn't stop. He needed to break something, but I wasn't going to play this nasty game.

I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I just used my big girl voice.
 

 
"Stop."

He froze.

His hand stopped inches from my precious little treasure. His body went rigid, locked in place by my command. He tried to push, but poor Daddy was a statue now.

"I'm not ready for that, Daddy," I whispered, looking over my shoulder. "Not yet."

I stood up slowly. I turned around.

I looked at him. He was frozen, his eyes wide with scary, big terror. He realised he wasn't holding the remote control.

He realised he hadn't conquered me. He realised he only owned me because I let him.

Daddy looked so scared, so I softened. I let that mean, scary voice go away. I hated using it! It felt heavy and scratchy in my throat. Brrr. I wanted the warm, fuzzy thoughts back. I wanted just to be pretty and soft.

"Daddy," I murmured, seeing how scared he was. "It's okay."

I stepped into him. I snuggled my arms around his big, yummy neck. I nuzzled his jaw. I kissed his scratchy cheek. I kissed his manly throat.

"I love you," I cooed, rubbing my soft boobies against his hard chest. "Don't be scared. Your baby is yours."

I kissed his lips, soft and sweet like candy.

"You don't have to break me," I whispered against his mouth. "I'm already broken for you. See?"

I sank to my knees, and the velvet felt nice again.

I looked up at him with my big, adoring eyes.

"Look at your sissy," I pleaded, tapping my nose ring. "Just a doll. Just a toy."

His paralysis broke. He slumped back onto the throne, exhausted, staring at me.

"Play with your baby, Daddy," I whispered. "She exists only for you."

"Fine," he grunted, spreading his legs. "Prove it."

He unzipped.

"It wasn't like my teeny little nub! It was the real thing! It was Daddy's big, scary monster! It was so huge and angry... and covered in big ropey veins. It looked like it wanted to split this little sissy right in half!"

"Suck it, sissy," he ordered. "Make yourself useful."

I didn't hesitate. I opened my eager mouth and kissed the tip. I licked it, slow and gentle, and then I swallowed him.

It was so big. It filled me up, pushing all the thoughts out of my head until there was nothing left but my Daddy.

He smelled nice. Like spice, hard work, and me.

I sucked slowly at first, but then I got so hungry! I wanted to drain him. I wanted to take all his worries away.

My brain went all fuzzy and sloppy! I bobbed up and down, drooling everywhere. Gack-kkh! I choked because my little throat was too small for his big ol' cock. It hurt, but I couldn't stop! I was so happy being so hungry for Daddy!"

Daddy leaned back on his throne. His eyes fluttered shut. The tension in his jaw unspooled.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Just like that... slut."

His expression softened; his anger was now our pleasure.

"Don't stop..." he whispered. "...Eve."

I didn't stop sucking, but I looked up.

"Eve?" he repeated, his voice hollow.

His eyes went wide, staring past me, like he was staring at a ghost. He looked Terrified. Like he was trying to grab onto a memory that had slipped through him.

"Who is she?" he asked, panic rising in his voice. "Where is she?"

I felt a spike of danger. The "Red Light".

Daddy missed this 'Eve' person, and it broke his heart.

I didn't know who she was, but I wanted to help. So I went against my rules and thought hard.

"Shhh," I whispered to him as I crawled up his lap. "Don't think, Daddy. When thinking hurts, please leave it to me. Your sissy is made of magic and fluff. Fluff just squishes. I can take it. I can take everything."

I pressed my hands against his chest, pushing him back.

"We can find her," I whispered, my voice light and empty. "We can find Eve together. I will help you look."

I saw the pain in his eyes. It was deep. It was scary. He needed something big. He needed a place to hide.

I knew what I had to do. I was scared, but I was Daddy's sissy.

I turned around.

I climbed onto his lap, facing away from him. I bent forward, grabbing the arms of the throne, presenting myself.

I arched my back, sticking my big, soft bum into the air.

"Look," I purred, wiggling my hips. "Daddy's favourite view."

I reached back and pulled the cheeks apart.

There it was. The only thing that mattered now! My sissy pussy! I wouldn't let him touch it before, but now it was saying, 'Please wreck me, Daddy! It was a sissy's most valued treasure, and I was offering it to Daddy.

And oh my gosh, and my bum knew it too! Arrows tattooed themselves on my cheeks! Left and Right, pointing straight to the bullseye for Daddy's aim! Put it here, Daddy!"

Sissy's -> <-Pussy

"It's just for you, Daddy," I whispered over my shoulder, flashing him my biggest smile. Even though I'm scared... It's yours."

Daddy blinked, and his confusion cleared. The scary ghosts faded away, leaving only the hunger.

His eyes locked onto my gift to him. My hungry little sissy pussy.

"Mine," he growled even as he grabbed my hips rightfully like they were made just for him.

"Yes," I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and sticking my bum out further, waiting to be stuffed.

I felt it. The head. It felt so big. So right.

I didn't care if it was going to hurt anymore. I didn't care about anything except that Daddy was safe. He was safe because he had me, and I had him.

"Fuck Eve," he barked.

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned back, shivering with happiness. "Fuck me."

I was so… so happy to finally be home.

"End of Book One."
 
 

 
Epilogue 2: Cut the Feed

I took my time with the zipper, ensuring my dear husband had ample opportunity to appreciate the reveal.

The black dress pooled at my ankles as I stepped out of it. The cool air of the "Grounded Nest" bit pleasantly at my skin. I didn't reach for a robe...not yet. I simply stood there in the barely there silk underwear, letting it serve its intended purpose. I let myself feel the weight of Arthur’s gaze settle on my back, along with the warmth that came with it.

I could feel him. His attention was such a tactile thing. Heavier than the air around me and even warmer than the heating vents.

I turned slowly, pivoting on the ball of my foot. I took a long, deliberate breath, letting my chest expand and stretch the lingerie against my skin. I held myself there for a moment, letting the silence stretch, giving him the full, unedited tour of the gift-wrapped woman he married.

"Hallelujah," Artie breathed. "Proof of the divine right there in my bedroom."

I smiled as I reached back. 'Snap.'

The bra's clasp gave way, and I let the straps slide down my arms. I didn't rush. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slid them down. I was stepping out of the last barrier with the exact intent of snagging my drooling prey.

"Christ, Ali," Artie groaned appreciatively. "If I'd known the view was this good, I would have paid admission at the door."

"You are incorrigible," I huffed, though a smile tugged at my mouth. He had built up quite the vocabulary to complement me, and in return, I would make sure that his effort was well rewarded.

I heard the 'click-whir' followed by the familiar, rhythmic shuffle of him getting to the bed.

I didn't climb into bed immediately, though. I moved to the dresser first. My fingers trailed over the wood until I found the drawer. I pulled out a scrap of sheer black lace. That little 'nothing' I usually reserve for anniversaries or apologies. Tonight felt like both, and so I slipped it on, knowing fully well that it would certainly come off in the next few minutes.

Then, of course, the vanity. I felt for the tube of lipstick my dear maid had set aside for me. The rest of the warpaint from the gala was gone now, but I wanted this one thing back on. I knew the effect my painted lips had on him in the shadows. It was a target.

I turned and walked toward the sound of his breathing.

"You were such an idiot for missing the Gala," I said as I climbed onto the mattress. "I was swarmed, Arthur. Men around me all the damn time."

"The geriatric brigade?" he asked.

"Not just the usual suspects or the pacemakers," I added, sliding under the duvet. "There were thirty-somethings. Forty-somethings. There was even a swimmer. Barely twenty-five but clearly very edible. Even my lovely escort appreciated the meat on that one, though she practically took his arm off when he tried to buy me a drink."

Apparently, I possess a 'magnificent cleavage' and 'real milf energy.' According to my dear bodyguard, the dress combined with the bronzer she insisted I be covered in, turned me into a 'certified cock magnet.' Her words, not mine."

"I've been telling you that for three decades now," Artie grumbled. "But of course, like every wife in the known universe, the husband's opinion holds significantly less equity than that of a woman she has known for less than a week."

"It is a universal law, Arthur. Won't kill you to live with the fact."

He let out a begrudging grunt of agreement.

A giggle, very unlike me, bubbled up as he lost this little battle.

I navigated the final few feet and climbed onto the mattress. I slid under the duvet, and my arm found its rightful place draped over his chest. I leaned into him, letting the night settle around us like a heavy velvet curtain.

"He wasn't looking at her, Arthur. He was looking at me."

"The lad has good taste," Artie noted.

"Relentless," I sighed. "Thank goodness I had an Amazon in gold lamé literally growling at anyone who came within a yard of me. I would have been drowning in unsolicited business cards otherwise. She was quite the capable bodyguard."

Artie let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Well," he chuckled. "I'd say I played a blinder. I skipped the boring speeches, avoided the bad wine, and I still get to unwrap the main prize. Minimum effort, maximum reward."

"You are an insufferable opportunist, Arthur Sterling," I scolded. The bite was entirely performative, though.

I reached out and delivered a slap to his bicep.

"Ouch," he complained, but the protest was entirely unconvincing.

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in until there was no air left between us, just warmth.

We didn't speak. We just lay there, letting the weight of the last two days melt away from us.

The Master Suite was quiet. Finally.

It was a heavy, rich quiet, enveloped by the darkness.

Tonight the darkness felt different, though. It felt shared, and Goddess help me... it felt deserved. The sheets felt especially cool against my skin, a luxury that I usually overlook. But tonight, they felt like a fresh bandage to a wound I didn't know I carried. My head felt perfectly rested on Arthur’s chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"The velocity," I murmured, my hand tracing the jagged map of the shrapnel scar on his shoulder. "It was stunning, love. Two days. We usually spend weeks just chipping at the mortar. We took down the whole compound."

He chuckled. I felt the vibration rumble against my cheek before I heard the sound.

"We didn't just have blueprints, Ali," he muttered as his hand stroked my hair. "We were working with a walking miracle. We just didn't realise it until she started floating."

"If that other idiot hadn't been sitting on the facts like a dragon on gold," I sighed. My fingers drifted to find the pulse in his neck, beating strong and steady, "We could have skipped the theatrics."

"He told us the moment he realised, love," Arthur said, his hand covering mine, defending the lad. "It was you ladies who rushed the stage."

I stayed silent for a moment, listening to the house settle around us. I thought of the creature downstairs—the silicone, the lace, the absolute, terrifying beauty of that surrender.

"She makes a stunning woman, Arthur," I whispered.

"She does," he agreed.

"Whatever her role," I mused, closing my eyes. "...once this week is done? She isn't going to fade away."

"Perhaps," Arthur grunted, his chest shifting beneath my cheek as he settled deeper into the mattress. "But you needn't have rushed it, Ali. From zero to... that... in under a day?"

He shuddered with fatherly concern.

"If 'she' hadn't taken it so well when she woke up this afternoon... if she had cracked when she saw what welcomed her in the mirror? We would be having a very different conversation right now. You rolled the dice on his sanity."

"His clock was ticking. He had months at best, weeks at worst. A heart attack or a complete mental breakdown was imminent. We did not have time for a prelude. 'She' was... is required to slow him down and bear his burdens."

I traced the line of his neck

"Besides, I was not gambling blindly. The games I heard last night..."

"Your scary super hearing again," Artie mumbled in annoyance.

I ignored him, tracing the line of his collarbone now.

"...the way they gave in to the moment, the way they embraced their new roles and found a way to save each other... it told me everything I needed to know. I bet on the fact that 'she' was already waiting behind the door. I simply kicked it open."

I paused, a little frown creasing my forehead against his warm skin.

"Though the sexing... There was too much of it. It was exhausting to listen to the hydraulics of it all."

I felt a flush heat my own neck, the memory of the vintage silk and the oxblood lipstick I had applied in the dark pricking at my conscience.

"And I suppose," I murmured, "I am guilty of sexing myself up a little as well. The atmosphere in this house is... contagious."

Arthur shifted beneath me. I felt his neck crane, his voice projecting upwards.

"Oi! You!" he barked. He seemed to be addressing the crown moulding with a distinct personal grievance. "I blame you. You seem to think 'pacing' is just something you do while waiting for the next plot twist. Two days to fix eighteen years of trauma? That is not therapy, genius. That is a word count limit."

I stiffened on his chest. "Arthur? Are you soliciting a higher power, or have you finally suffered a stroke?"

"Never mind," he said, his hand coming up to pat my arm soothingly. "Just heckling the typist, love. Impatient hack."

I let it slide. He often spoke to the air when the pain in his back flared, or the lack of rest settled in too deep.

"The root is still buried, you know," I whispered, turning my thoughts back to the patient in the basement. "He has accepted 'her'. But the history? The trauma? That is still deep under the ice. This version of her is just a coping mechanism, Arthur. The one he actually lost... she was the real deal. It will take time and cause much pain to resurface and treat."

I paused, feeling the shift in Artie’s breathing as he listened.

"But," I added, "now that they are talking... now that the partition is down... when the past does come back? It will not break him. He will not be alone in the room when the demons drop by."

"He will have her," Arthur agreed. "And she will have us."

"Aunt Jane," I said out loud. "I should have known her handiwork. The discipline, our pretty little thing's specific syntax reeked of her curriculum."

I pictured the formidable woman I had only heard of in conferences. The unmatched queen of correcting delinquent behaviour.

"The Seasons of Change," I said softly. "That is what they call her little universe, right? She runs that school like a monastery for the broken. She cares for those boys with a ferocity that scares me. I hope... I hope I get to meet her one day."

"You will," Arthur said. "Joel and Tigger laid a hell of a foundation."

"Joel? Tigger?" I asked, confused. "Are they code names?"

"Inside references, hon," he squeezed my shoulder, dismissing it. "They play in the same sandbox as Cherysse, Armond, Fakeminsk, Vickie... Do not worry your pretty head about the lore."

"Pretty head?" I snapped. I drove my fist into his bicep—hard.

"Ouch!" he yelped. "Abuse of the elderly."

I propped myself up on an elbow, reaching out to cup his face. My fingers traced that beard and the lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

"Thank you, my love," I whispered. "For tonight. For making the hard decision to push me."

"I didn't push you, Ali, and it wasn't a hard decision. Not one bit. I just opened the door for you to do what you do best."

"You made me touch him," I told him. "You made me cross the line I drew when I fell in love with you nearly thirty years ago, yet I don't feel like I crossed a line at all. As always, you are right, he is not a threat. Despite his magnificent..."

"Oi," Arthur interrupted, though his tone was light. "First off, it is her. And secondly, let's not get carried away with adjectives like 'magnificent'. 'Adequate', or perhaps. 'Structural', sure."

I paused and smiled as my hand slid down his chest, past the navel, finding the waistband of his boxers.

"Oh, hush. Nowhere close to yours, old man," I lied with a smile.

Ahhhh, found it! And as intended... he began to stiffen the moment my fingers brushed the cotton.

"I am surprised, though," I murmured, feeling the heat of him. "We did something that fundamentally changes the rules of our own marriage, and yet here we are. Barely affected."

"It happened so fast I barely had time to check my watch," Arthur chuckled, lying through his teeth. "I blinked, and I missed the drama."

"Exactly, lover," I added, turning my face to kiss his palm.

"You do realise what is happening, don't you?" he rumbled as his thumb stroked my cheek. "Just over a day and we've already given up being their consultants, Ali. At this rate, we'll be filing adoption papers by Christmas. Two fully grown, high-maintenance adults. Just what we need to complete the set."

I paused and let the words sink in.

Shit.

As always, my dear man was right. He preferred to play the part of the gatekeeper, but we both knew that he was the true master of my universe. We had grown to love them both already, and he could see the tangles before the knots were even tied.

"And it's only going to get more complicated, love," he sighed. "The lad... he showed me pictures in the lab while he was pretending to care about capacitors. Turns out, his youngest sister is in the same city as our older one. Single and the same age.

I stiffened. "Arthur, tell me you didn't."

"Of course, we... did," he chuckled. "Introductions were made via text. Apparently, they've spent the last half hour planning a dinner date."

He reached for his phone on the nightstand and tapped the screen.

"Listen to this text from our homegrown and smitten idiot: 'Dad, she's unreal. She actually understands actuarial risk tables, and she is gorgeous. I think it's love at first sight.'"

Artie snorted, tossing the phone back.

"And Ali? If we think the 'girls' upstairs are pretty? If we think the girls upstairs are pretty, the sister puts every lady in this house to shame. Even you, my old lady."

I smacked my forehead against his chest. "Men!" I complained even as he laughed.

But the mood shifted quickly.

The laughter died, replaced by something heavier. I felt it pool in my belly. Mmmm... the heat was persistent now. Beneath my hand, through the cotton of his boxers, I felt him. Fully hard and ready to go.

I shifted, sliding my leg over his hip. I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

"You know," I purred, leaning down, my hair brushing his chest. "Between draining that sweet little thing downstairs... and being stalked in that ballroom?" I paused for effect. "The low-frequency filth men mutter when they think no one is listening. The heat of a body brushing up against me in the crowd. Mmmm... the filth they whispered, love. I could smell the desperate need on them." I took a deep breath, just for that dramatic pause. "Especially that boy. He smelled like raw meat, Arthur; he reeked like fresh kill waiting for the butcher. I'm afraid it's all made me very, very hungry, and I am going to need something substantial to chew on and fill me up."

I reached for the waistband of his boxers.

"I think it is time my Master got served," I whispered into his ear.

His breath hitched exactly as intended. A ragged sound tore out of his throat. I felt his muscles twitch, the absolute, undeniable proof that he was desperate for me.

But then, he caught my hand. He stopped me cold.

I felt him looking past my shoulder, staring into the darkness of the bedroom corner with laser focus.

"Whoa there," he barked at the empty room. "Cut the feed, you pervert. The readers have been edging since the start. They've milked themselves dry reading your smut. Have some mercy."

I frowned, pulling back.

"Arthur? Who are you talking to?"

"The audience, love," he murmured, pulling me down for a kiss. His hand was firm on the nape of my neck, grounding me as he continued. "And the hack typing this out."

"Arthur," I whispered against his lips, my concern escalating. "There is nothing there. Do I need to check your pupils?"

"Not nothing," he rumbled, his voice thick with a joke I did not understand, but somehow put my concerns to rest. I heard his hand fumble for the lamp switch. "I see the credits rolling, Ali. I see something you don't. Excuse the pun."

I felt him cast one last look into the dark. A look directed at a crowd that only he could perceive.

"Go to bed, you lot. The show's over."

"End of Book One."