Strange Bonds
Copyright© 2026 by Bad Decisions Kat
Chapter 15: Dan’s Friend
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 15: Dan’s Friend - Mia has a good thing going: a no-strings arrangement with her ex Dan, a close friendship with Lin, and a sex life that doesn't require promises. But when Dan and Lin grow closer, jealousy isn't what she expected, and neither is her attraction to her best friend. Then she meets Leah, confident, perceptive, and impossible to read. Caught between the people she loves and possibilities she's only beginning to discover, Mia has to ask: what does she actually want?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Slow Illustrated AI Generated
My phone buzzed before I had finished my first coffee.
Not the apartment chat.
A new one.
Girl Talk
Leah:
Hello.
Leah:
Dan gave me your numbers.
Leah:
I wanted to thank you both for yesterday.
I stared at the screen.
Across the room, Lin’s phone buzzed too.
Lin:
For shouting at him?
Leah:
For making him understand that photographing someone and sharing the photograph are two separate permissions.
Leah:
He genuinely did not understand that.
You:
Yeah. He has some gaps.
Leah:
Several.
Leah:
But he listened once it was explained, which is better than most men manage.
Lin looked over at me.
“Do we have a girls’ chat now?”
I looked back at the screen.
“Apparently.”
Another message appeared.
Leah:
Also, he describes both of you terribly.
You:
Excuse me?
Leah:
Not negatively. Just clumsily.
Leah:
Like he is carefully describing around something.
You:
That sounds like Dan.
Lin:
Very much so.
Leah:
Before this progresses, should I know anything important?
Leah:
Secret wife? Unusual collection of human teeth?
You:
No teeth that I know of.
Lin:
He is mostly harmless.
Leah:
“Mostly”?
You:
He has poor judgment and excellent stamina.
Lin:
🤦
Leah:
Noted.
Leah:
Any particular fetish responsible for the complicated relationship history, or is this simply his personality?
You:
Why do you assume his relationships are complicated?
Leah:
Because uncomplicated men do not describe two women this carefully.
Lin:
Did he say anything?
Leah:
Nope. Perfect gentleman.
Leah:
But I got the impression the three of you have been involved with each other at some point.
Leah:
Very strange signals whenever he talked about you two.
You:
“Weird Signals” Dan. That’s what we call him.
Lin:
Yeah, it’s complicated. Not something to unpack over text.
Leah:
But you are both okay with me having sex with him?
Lin:
He is a free man. He isn’t tied to either of us.
You:
Yeah. We don’t own him.
Leah:
Okay, good.
Leah:
We used protection and avoided exchanging fluids, in case you have some kind of open relationship or polycule arrangement.
You:
A what now?
Lin:
Er ... no. We definitely do not have one of those.
Lin:
But thanks for telling us.
I logged into work and found a meeting invitation I had been expecting somewhere in the back of my mind for a while.
Performance Discussion
Invitees: Miriam Williams, Johanna Eriksson, Martin Cole
No agenda.
No message.
Just thirty minutes blocked out in the middle of my morning.
“I’m gonna get fired.”
Lin looked over from the couch.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The meeting was in an hour, so I found the most formal shirt I owned that did not require buttons all the way down. It had not been ironed, but it was better than my hoodie. I also put on pants, even though nobody on the call would see them.
It felt important to be fully dressed while being professionally executed.
I spent the next forty minutes going through everything that might be used against me.
Outstanding tasks. Slack messages. Emails I had marked unread and then forgotten about. Meeting notes that should probably have been uploaded somewhere. I checked every project channel for my name and searched for words like late, blocked and waiting.
There was nothing catastrophic.
Just a collection of small things.
A reply sent the following morning instead of that afternoon. A report that had needed two reminders. A meeting I had missed because I had forgotten to put it in my calendar. Nothing that should get somebody fired on its own.
Together, though, they started to look like a pattern.
At exactly ten, I clicked the meeting link.
The empty call opened with my own face staring back at me. I adjusted the laptop so the camera was not looking up my nose and waited.
At one minute past, HR joined.
Johanna was a round-faced woman with large glasses and a carefully neutral smile. She introduced herself and said it was a pleasure to meet me.
It was not a pleasure to meet her.
Martin joined a minute later without apologising.
He was somewhere in his forties and managed twenty-five people, which meant I saw him for fifteen minutes twice a month when neither of us cancelled. Most of those meetings consisted of him asking whether I needed anything and me saying no because there was never enough time to explain what I actually needed.
I was properly managed.
Johanna said she would kick things off.
She explained that concerns had been raised about my recent performance. Several commitments had slipped, responses had sometimes been delayed, and members of the project team felt I was no longer keeping production moving as effectively as expected.
Someone had apparently described me as burnt out.
That felt oddly personal coming from an unnamed colleague.
Johanna was careful to say the project being behind schedule was not being blamed entirely on me. There were several contributing factors.
Then she explained that some people believed production had become a bottleneck.
That part was apparently mine.
Martin nodded while she spoke. He did not add anything.
For the next four weeks, another producer would be assigned to support the project. I would be placed on a Performance Improvement Plan with weekly goals, closer follow-up and clearly defined expectations for the quality and timeliness of my work.
Support.
Meaning somebody else would start doing part of my job while they decided whether I was still needed.
Johanna said they had high confidence that I could return to the expected level of performance.
Martin nodded again.
I wondered if he had read the document before the meeting.
I would receive it by email and needed to sign to confirm that I had received and understood it. Johanna asked if I had any questions.
I had several.
Who had complained?
How long had they been discussing this without me?
Why had Martin never mentioned any of it during our fifteen-minute management festivals?
What happened after four weeks if they decided I had not improved enough?
Instead, I said, “No. I understand.”
Johanna thanked me for being professional.
Martin said we would talk during our next one-to-one.
Then the meeting ended.
My face returned to the centre of the screen.
I sat there for a moment, staring at myself in my wrinkled shirt.
“Okay,” I said. “Not fired yet.”
I closed the laptop and leaned back on the couch.
I wasn’t sure whether that counted as good news.
My phone was lying face down beside the table. I turned it over, almost without thinking.
No notifications.
No missed messages.
Just the same lock screen staring back at me.
I frowned, locked it again, and set it down.
A few seconds later, I realised what I’d been expecting.
I smiled despite myself.
Around lunch, the girls’ chat lit up again.
Leah sent an image.
Dan sat beside her at a long table, holding up a divided tray of pale chicken, rice and vegetables that looked as though they had spent the afternoon under a heat lamp as punishment.
Leah:
Corporate catering.
Leah:
Feeding a thousand people was always going to create quality problems.
I looked down at my bagel.
Cream cheese. Slightly burnt edge. One bite missing.
I took a picture.
You sent an image.
You:
Living high over here.
You:
Please try not to be jealous.
Leah:
Difficult. A bagel might actually be better than what we got here.
Herb cream cheese.
A girl has good taste.
A few seconds passed.
Leah:
One sec. Dan is going to send you something.
The apartment chat lit up.
Dan sent an image.
The photo showed Leah sitting sideways on the window ledge in the same hotel room as the picture from the night before.
She was naked, but that was not the first thing I noticed.
The dawn light behind her outlined her body in gold. She sat folded over her legs, her back turned toward the camera, long dark hair draped over one shoulder. Most of the image was her back, the curve of her waist and the light gathering along the edge of her skin.
Her ass was visible. So was the side of one breast.
But it did not look like Dan had caught her naked.
It looked like someone had planned the entire morning around that window.
The girls’ chat buzzed again.
Leah:
There.
Leah:
I had a longer discussion with Dan about photographs and sharing.
Leah:
He is allowed to keep that one and share it with you two, but nobody else.
Leah:
The same applies to both of you, obviously.
Leah:
If Dan and I stop seeing each other, he deletes it.
Lin looked over at me from the couch.
I was still staring at the picture.
You:
I thought you were hot in last night’s photo, but damn, woman.
Lin:
I agree with Mia’s statement.
Leah:
I was aiming for “hot damn, woman,” but I guess I can do better.
Lin:
Please do not take that as a challenge.
You:
Absolutely take it as a challenge.
I went back to work.
About twenty minutes later, my phone pinged again.
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