Chapter 13: Cindy’s House

Two weeks went like a blur, Purdey rang the doorbell twice before trying the handle. The door swung open, revealing Cindy’s pristine foyer. Marble tiles gleamed under recessed lighting, their polished surface reflecting the soft glow like a still pond at dusk. A display of fresh lilies scented the air from an ornate side table with gilded edges, their perfume mingling with the subtle scent of expensive furniture polish and luxury.

“Cindy?” Purdey called, stepping inside in her Cassandra Slip red mini dress. The vibrant crimson fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, its silky material catching the light with every movement. The delicate spaghetti straps showcased her shoulders, while the hem barely covered the tops of her thighs in a daring display of confidence. The plunging neckline dipped low between her breasts, showcasing her cleavage in a way that was both elegant and provocatively bold. Six-inch stilettos clicked against the floor as she ventured further inside, each step echoing in the silent house. “Anyone home?”

A curious thrill ran through her as she realized she was truly alone in the sprawling residence, exactly as Cindy had promised. There was something deliciously forbidden about having free reign of such an opulent space, making her heart beat just a little faster as she stood in the empty entrance hall, anticipation tingling across her skin like electricity.

No answer. She closed the door behind her, scanning the open-concept living area. Everything was immaculate—cushions perfectly arranged on the sectional sofa, coffee table magazines fanned in an artful display. A spread of appetizers waited on the kitchen island alongside an ice bucket containing a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

Purdey checked her phone: 7:45 PM. The guys weren’t due until 8:30. Looked like Cindy had already prepped everything and left for the night. She gave Cindy a call, no answer. She received a text shortly after, Purdey smiled as she read the message. “Sorry, I can’t talk right now. I have my mouthful. I’ve set everything up. Have fun! wink emoji”.

The house remained silent except for the gentle hum of the air conditioning. Purdey wandered to the kitchen, her six inch stilettos made clicking sounds against the marble floor. She ran her fingers over the cool granite countertop, feeling its smooth, polished surface beneath her fingertips. The champagne bottle sat in a silver bucket of ice, condensation beading on its dark green surface, beckoning like a forbidden promise. Why not? A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt.

She popped the cork with practiced ease, the satisfying sound echoing through the empty kitchen. The effervescent hiss of bubbles rising filled her ears as she poured, watching the pale gold liquid cascade into a crystal flute from the set arranged beside the bucket. The first sip bubbled down her throat, sharp and crisp with notes of green apple and toast, leaving a tangy aftertaste on her tongue. She took another, longer this time, letting the alcohol warm her from within, spreading like honey through her veins.

By her third glass, Purdey had kicked off her heels with a soft thud against the hardwood floor and sprawled on the plush velvet sofa, the fabric cool against her bare arms. The tension in her shoulders began to dissolve, melting away like ice in summer heat. She poured another glass, spilling a few drops on her dress that left dark stains on the silky fabric. The champagne bottle was already half gone, the light from the chandelier catching the depleting golden liquid as her mind drifted to what awaited her tonight. Uzer’s lessons echoed in her thoughts—how to maintain control even when surrounded, the techniques to maximize pleasure for everyone involved, the subtle power dynamics she could manipulate. A smile played across her lips as she imagined the men in the next room, waiting, unaware that she had orchestrated everything according to Uzer’s teachings. This would be her first time with multiple partners simultaneously—a thrilling prospect that sent electricity through her veins more potent than the champagne. She rehearsed the signals and commands in her head, knowing exactly how she would direct them if they proved willing to take her all at once, just as she had fantasized.

“Screw it,” she muttered, her voice sounding oddly loud in the empty space, before taking the bottle directly to her lips. The cold glass pressed against her mouth as bubbles fizzed against her palate. No one was watching anyway.

Time blurred as Purdey finished the champagne, the empty bottle making a hollow sound as she set it on the coffee table. She found another bottle in Cindy’s wine fridge—a crisp Sauvignon Blanc with a label depicting rolling vineyards—and uncorked it with a satisfying pop. The scent of citrus and cut grass wafted up from the bottle. The house grew warmer, or maybe it was her body responding to the alcohol. Sweat beaded at her hairline as she undid her spaghetti straps, releasing her breasts with a sigh as cool air hit her flushed skin, raising goosebumps across her chest.

The doorbell’s sharp ring jolted her upright. She fumbled for her phone—8:40 PM. They were here.

Purdey smoothed her dress and readjusted her spaghetti straps, attempting to gather her composure as she made her way to the door on unsteady legs. With a deep breath to steady herself, she pulled it open.