Strange Bonds
Copyright© 2026 by Bad Decisions Kat
Chapter 19: Dan’s Friend
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 19: 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
The Gala
Friday arrived with the kind of urgency usually reserved for medical appointments and tax deadlines.
I showered in the morning, washed my hair, kept conditioner away from the roots like Leah had instructed, and spent the next several hours trying not to accidentally ruin myself.
By four, the apartment looked completely normal, which felt wrong considering I was apparently about to be assembled into a person who attended museum galas.
Lin sat cross-legged on the couch with a book open in her lap, watching me check my phone for the sixth time.
“You know she said four-thirty.”
“I know.”
“It’s four-twelve.”
“I also know how clocks work.”
“You’ve been standing by the window for ten minutes.”
“I was looking outside.”
“At the same parked cars?”
“It could have moved.”
Lin lowered the book.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You cleaned the bathroom.”
“That needed doing.”
“You cleaned it when she was here last Saturday.”
“She’s doing my makeup in there, she’s gonna notice something.”
“So you cleaned it because you’re nervous?”
“I cleaned it because apparently lighting matters now.”
My hair had dried the way Leah asked. No product. No oil. No conditioner near the roots. I had followed every instruction precisely and still felt like I had probably missed a step or two.
I had also moisturised.
Possibly too much.
I touched my cheek, then remembered Leah had told me not to touch my face and dropped my hand.
Lin noticed.
“Did she tell you not to do that?”
“No.”
“She did.”
“Shut up.”
The buzzer sounded.
I looked at the clock.
Four-twenty.
Lin smiled.
“She’s early.”
“That is Leah for you.”
I pressed the intercom.
“Come up.”
A minute later there was a knock.
I opened the door.
Leah stood in the hallway carrying my dress in its garment bag, the shoe box tucked under one arm, a large black makeup case in the other hand, and her own garment bag draped over her shoulder.
She looked at my face and smiled.
“Ah, good. You followed my instructions.”
I stepped aside.
“Hello to you too.”
Leah hung the dresses in the hallway and carried the rest into the bathroom and set the makeup case on the counter.
“Makeup first,” she said. “Then hair. Dress last.”
“So I don’t smear half my face onto several thousand dollars of satin.”
“Exactly.”
She looked me over again.
“Put on something that doesn’t need to go over your head.”
I looked down at my T-shirt.
“This needs to go over my head.”
“Indeed it does.”
“What am I supposed to wear?”
“Button-up shirt. Robe. Zip hoodie. Anything that opens at the front.”
“I own a hoodie.”
“Does it zip?”
“No.”
“I guess just bra will work”
Lin had followed us into the hallway and was now leaning against the bathroom doorframe.
“I have a robe,” she said.
Leah nodded. “That would be perfect.”
Lin disappeared into her room and returned with a soft grey robe, holding it out to me.
I took it.
“This is becoming a group project.”
“You invited us into your life,” Lin said.
“And I am happy to have you.”
Leah opened the makeup case.
Inside were rows of brushes, palettes, bottles, compacts and several small pouches arranged with the kind of precision usually reserved for surgical instruments.
Then she pulled out a folded white panel.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Light.”
“It looks like a placemat.”
She unfolded it into a small rectangular frame with a soft fabric diffuser across the front, attached it to a collapsible stand, then reached behind the mirror for the shaver outlet.
“You brought your own sun.”
“The lighting in here is yellow.”
“I fucking knew it. I’ve been blaming my face for years.”
“Your face wasn’t the problem.”
She plugged it in.
The panel came to life with a clean white glow that filled the bathroom without turning it into an interrogation room.
Lin stepped closer.
“Oh, that’s clever.”
Leah adjusted the angle.
“It’s soft light. Better colour accuracy, fewer hard shadows.”
I looked at my reflection.
The bathroom suddenly revealed several things about my skin I had been happier not knowing.
“I take it back. The cheap bulbs were protecting me.”
“Let’s see what you prefer when we are done.”
Leah pointed at the toilet.
“Sit.”
I looked at it.
“The toilet?”
“Lid down.”
“This is very glamorous.”
“Most backstage dressing rooms are less glamorous than this.”
Lin folded her arms.
“I’m staying.”
Leah glanced at her.
“That was always allowed.”
I lowered the lid and sat.
Leah moved the light closer, tilted my chin up with two fingers and studied my face.
Lin’s book had been abandoned somewhere in the living room.
Her interest was officially piqued.
Leah clipped my hair away from my face and started laying things out across the counter.
Lin moved closer.
Not close enough to interfere. Close enough to inspect.
Leah worked quickly. Moisturiser first, then primer, then small amounts of foundation placed exactly where she wanted them instead of smeared over my entire face like wall paint.
I watched her work.
She looked focused. Calm. Completely unsurprised by my face.
Lin watched differently.
“You’re colour-correcting first,” she said.
Leah glanced at her in the mirror.
“Only where she needs it.”
“And you’re mixing the foundation.”
“The undertone is wrong straight from the bottle.”
Lin nodded slowly.
I looked between them.
“What language is this?”
“Your skin has more than one colour in it,” Lin said.
“That can’t be right, all the ads say to pick the color of my face, that means it has one color, right?”
Leah ignored me and worked a brush along my jaw.
Lin leaned against the sink now, fully invested.
“You do this professionally?”
“No.”
“You could.”
Leah gave a small shrug.
“No. Too stressful. Doesn’t pay well. I’ve done makeup for shoots, conventions, friends, events.”
“That is professionally adjacent.”
“I could do photography professionally, makeup is photography adjacent.”
She moved to concealer, then powder, setting each part in thin layers.
Lin watched every step.
“She’s barely using any,” she said.
“Because she doesn’t need much.”
I looked at Leah.
“That sounded almost nice.”
“You have a good face Mia, we just need a bit to make people see it.”
I smiled.
Leah stopped applying makeup and looked at me, “No smiling. Wait until we’re done.”
She then turned my face toward the light and started on my eyes.
She used warm browns, a muted bronze and something darker near the lashes. Lin noticed every choice before I did.
“You’re lifting the outer corner.”
“Yes.”
“And keeping the lower line soft.”
“She has strong eyes already. Too much underneath would drag them down.”
I looked up.
“My eyes drag?”
“Not anymore,” Leah said.
Lin laughed.
Then came liner.
Leah rested one hand against my cheek and drew the line in one controlled movement.
Lin made a small impressed sound.
“What?” I asked.
“She didn’t hesitate.”
Leah did the other eye.
Exactly the same.
Lin moved even closer.
“That’s annoyingly good.”
Leah smiled slightly.
“Thank you.”
I looked at the two of them.
Lin was impressed.
Leah accepted this as normal.
I was still sitting on a toilet lid while someone painted my face under a portable sun.
The lashes came next. Not dramatic ones. Leah trimmed them, adjusted the curve, and placed them so precisely I barely felt them.
Lin shook her head, “I would have glued those to her eyelid.”
“Still might,” I said.
“I won’t,” Leah replied.
There was no reassurance in it. Just fact.
By the time Leah moved to my lips, Lin had stopped pretending she was casually watching.
She was studying.
Leah tested two shades on the back of her hand, chose the deeper red, then used a brush instead of applying it straight from the tube.
“Why the brush?” Lin asked.
“Control. Better edge. Easier to build.”
“And it lasts longer?”
“If you layer it properly.”
Lin nodded again.
I caught her expression.
A respectful look, like she had met a master of a craft she was already proficient in, and saw how far she could still go.
That felt new.
When Leah finished, she stepped back and adjusted the light.
Lin looked at me first.
Then she looked at Leah.
“Oh, wow.”
I turned toward the mirror.
My face still looked like mine, just better.
My eyes looked sharper. My cheekbones had arrived. My skin looked even without looking artificial. The red on my lips made the rest just click together.
Leah had not made me into someone else.
She had apparently found the expensive version hiding underneath.
Lin came closer.
“You look incredible.”
I smiled.
Leah immediately pointed at me.
“Don’t move your mouth too much yet.”
“There she is.”
Lin laughed, but she was still looking at my face.
Then Leah removed the clips from my hair.
“Hair next.”
She plugged in the dryer, took out a round brush and started rebuilding the shape from the salon.
Lin stayed.
Of course she stayed.
Leah lifted sections, directed the heat, turned the ends, pinned pieces to cool and moved through the whole process without stopping to think.
Lin watched with the same expression she had worn during the eyeliner.
“She really does know what she’s doing,” she said.
“I know,” I replied.
To me, Leah was not suddenly impressive.
She was just Leah.
This was what she did.
She looked at a person, found the weak points, and started fixing them before anyone had agreed there was a problem.
Leah stepped back and looked me over one last time.
“Okay. I’ll do myself next. Go wait in the living room. I’ll try to be quick.”
Lin and I obeyed.
We sat down on the couch, me carefully upright, Lin angled toward me like she was still trying to work out exactly what Leah had done.
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.
Then Lin leaned closer.
“Was she like this on Wednesday?”
“Like what?”
“This.”
She gestured vaguely toward my face, the bathroom, the entire day Leah had apparently spent reorganising me.
“Efficient?”
“Bossy. Prepared. Weirdly good at everything.”
From the bathroom, Leah shouted:
“Don’t touch your face!”
My hand stopped halfway to my cheek.
Lin looked at me.
I lowered it slowly.
“Yes,” I said. “Exactly like this.”
Lin smiled.
“And you just let her?”
“I argued constantly.”
“That isn’t the same as stopping her.”
“No. No, it is not.”
Lin studied me for another moment.
“You liked it.”
I looked toward the bathroom.
“I liked the shoes.”
“The shoes.”
“And the haircut.”
“Right.”
“And the dress.”
Lin’s smile widened.
“Sounds awful.”
“Oh, it was the worst.”
“Mm.”
“She made a stranger rip out my pubic hair with dessert.”
Lin blinked.
“With what?”
“Some sticky sugar substance.”
“Oh.”
“Hurt like you would not believe.”
“I have had a wax job, its an experience in womanhood, I know the pain”
From the bathroom came a “Ha!” then the soft clatter of brushes and something snapping shut.
Lin lowered her voice.
“She really paid for the dress?”
“Yeah.”
“And the shoes?”
“Yeah.”
“And all the rest?”
“Mostly.”
Lin looked toward the bathroom now.
“That’s a lot.”
“I know.”
The words came out quieter than I intended.
Lin looked back at me.
“You feel bad.”
“I was kind of an asshole all day.”
“Only kind of?”
“Thank you for your support.”
She smiled.
“But she still wanted you there.”
I looked down at my hands, then immediately remembered the makeup and kept them in my lap.
“Yeah.”
That was the part I had not quite figured out.
Leah could have brought someone easier. Someone who already owned the right underwear and knew conditioner had borders.
Instead, she had spent an entire day turning me into the person she wanted beside her.
From the bathroom, Leah called:
“And stop talking about me like I can’t hear you.”
Lin and I looked at each other.
“You heard nothing,” I shouted back.
“I heard enough.”
Lin laughed.
I tried not to smile too widely in case Leah see me as well as hear me.
By the time Leah finished her own makeup, we had used nearly an hour.
She checked the time.
“Good. Halfway.”
“Halfway?”
“We booked two hours.”
“I thought that was an estimate.”
“We have a deadline, that makes it a schedule.”
She closed the makeup case and stood.
“Right. Mia first. Bedroom or living room?”
I looked toward my room, then at the open space in front of the couch.
“Living room. More space.”
“Good.”
Leah brought the garment bag over and laid it carefully across the floor.
“Undress.”
I untied Lin’s robe and let it fall.
This time I did not ask what had to come off. I already knew.
I stripped completely, then immediately folded one arm across my chest.
Lin looked me over.
“Wow. That wax-job makes your pussy look amazing.”
“I know, right?” I swung my hips back and forth, showing it off from every angle.
Leah glanced up from the dress.
“Both of you, focus.”
She opened the fastenings and gathered the skirt.
“Step in.”
I did.
Leah worked the dress up over my legs and hips, correcting the lining when it caught, smoothing the satin flat, tugging one seam into place, then another.
“Don’t pull.”
“Sorry, I know, I was trying to help.”
“It’s OK, I got this”
I stopped helping.
She pulled the bodice into place, fastened the back, adjusted the neckline and checked the slit.
Then she stepped away.
For a second, nobody said anything.
The dress fit even better than it had in the shop.
The alterations had tightened the waist, cleaned the line over my hips and made the slit fall exactly where Leah wanted it. The red looked darker under the apartment light. Richer.
I turned toward Lin.
Her mouth was slightly open.
That felt good.
“What drawer is the underwear in?” Leah asked.
“Top one.”
I kept looking at Lin.
She was still staring.
I smiled.
Proud was probably the wrong word.
I felt fucking magnificent.
Leah disappeared into my bedroom and I heard a drawer open.
Then:
“Mia.”
I closed my eyes.
“I asked if you had underwear. All I see here are ten-dollar value-pack panties.”
“Hey. Those are good value.”
“Yes, but we need a seamless low-rise thong. Preferably laser-cut. None of these are usable.”
“They have successfully been used many times.”
“Not under fitted satin with a slit at the hip.”
Another drawer opened.
“Lin,” Leah called, “do you have a red or nude seamless thong?”
Lin looked toward the hallway.
“Sorry. Fresh out.”
Leah came back into the living room.
She looked at me, then at the dress, then down at herself.
“You are lucky my dress doesn’t require one.”
She unbuckled her trousers.
I watched her push them down and step out of them with the same practical expression she had used while adjusting the hem.
Underneath, she wore a red thong with thin, smooth edges.
Leah hooked her thumbs into the waistband, pulled it down and stepped out of it.
No hesitation. No little turn away. No attempt to make the moment mean anything.
She held it out to me.
“Put these on.”
I stared at the thong.
Then at Leah, now standing naked from the waist down in our living room.
Lin stared too.
Leah looked between us.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Have you two never seen Asian pussy or something? Stop being weird.”
“You just removed your underwear in the living room.”
“Because you need them, I do not.”
She held it out again.
“Put them on. Make sure they sit tight, should not be able to see them.”
I took the thong.
Apparently even Leah’s nakedness did not stop her from being instructive.
I carefully stepped into the thong and pulled it up.
The fabric barely felt like fabric.
No thick waistband. No cheap elastic cutting into my hips. No seam digging into the place between my legs like it had a personal grudge. It settled against my skin without bunching, smooth enough that I almost could not feel where it ended.
After the sugaring, the difference was even stranger. Everything felt closer. Softer. The material slid over newly smooth skin instead of catching against it.
I adjusted the waistband once.
“Oh.”
Leah stepped back and put both hands on her bare hips.
“Yes,” she said. “That will do nicely.”
“I hate that you were right.”
“Well, I would not want you flashing any rich donors today. Just be glad it worked out.”
She turned toward one of the bags on the floor, then bent over to reach inside.
Lin and I both looked, I looked over at Lin for confirmation that this was strange, but she was biting her lower lip and looking more intently than I was.
There was no point pretending otherwise. Leah’s dress might not require underwear, but apparently our living room did not require modesty either.
She rummaged through the bag for a moment, completely unconcerned about the view, then straightened with a small jewellery case in her hand.
“I realised this would work with the dress.”
She opened it.
Inside was a necklace that looked expensive in the quiet, dangerous way the dress had looked expensive. Fine metal, pale stones, nothing oversized, but clearly not something bought beside a cash register.
Leah lifted it out carefully.
“It’s a family heirloom.”
I looked at her.
“And you’re lending it to me?”
“Yes.”
“That seems unwise.”
“It probably is.”
She stepped behind me and fastened it around my neck.
The necklace sat just above the neckline, filling the empty space without competing with the dress. It made the whole thing look finished.
More finished than I had ever looked in my life.
Leah adjusted the clasp, then met my eyes in the mirror.
“Do not misplace it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not take it off and put it in your bag.”
“I wasn’t planning to do that either.”
“Do not hand it to anyone.”
“I understand how necklaces work.”
“I have seen your underwear drawer. I’m managing expectations.”
Lin laughed.
I touched the necklace lightly.
Leah caught my hand.
“And don’t keep doing that.”
“Right.”
She stepped away and started unbuttoning her shirt.
No announcement. No pause.
The shirt came off first, then her bra. She placed both over the back of a chair with more care than I gave most of my possessions.
Then she pulled her own dress from the garment bag.
Dark blue. Almost black until the light caught it.
High-necked, sleeveless, fitted close through the waist and hips, then falling in one clean line toward the floor. A narrow slit opened along one leg, controlled rather than dramatic.
It covered more than mine.
It still looked more dangerous.
Leah stepped into it and drew it up over her body with none of the wrestling mine had required. The fabric settled into place as though it had been waiting for her.
She reached behind herself for the fastening.
Lin moved instinctively.
“Need help?”
Leah glanced at her.
“Zip.”
Lin stepped behind her and pulled it up carefully.
When Leah turned back around, the effect was immediate.
The dress did not transform her.
It confirmed her.
Everything about it looked deliberate. The high neck. The clean shoulders. The dark blue against her skin. Even the slit seemed to open only as far as she allowed it.
I looked her over again.
“You made that.”
“Mostly. It was an existing pattern.”
“So you did not make it.”
“I changed the neckline, opened the shoulders, narrowed the armholes, corrected the inseam and side seams, rebuilt the cups, added light padding through the hips and adjusted the slit.”
I stared at her.
“So, just some minor tweaks then. Hardly any work?” I joked.
Without catching my joke she answered, “Yeah. I have a purple one still in early design. That’s a much more complex rebuild.”
Leah checked her watch.
“Twenty-five minutes to spare. Shoes, then final review.”
I brightened immediately.
“My shoes.”
Lin looked at me.
“You sound like a child being told she can wear her costume outside.”
“They make my ass look incredible.”
“That explains it.”
I took them from the box and sat down to fasten the ankle straps. The red platforms looked even better with the dress than they had in the shop. Once I stood, everything shifted back into place: posture, hips, legs, all of it.
I walked slowly across the living room, then turned so Lin could appreciate the engineering.
“Well?”
She looked me up and down.
“The shoes are doing excellent work.”
“I know.”
I turned again, letting the slit open over my thigh.
Leah watched with folded arms.
“Shorter steps.”
“I’m showing Lin.”
“Long steps will show off my underwear.”
“I am not shy.”
Lin smiled.
“You really love those shoes.”
“They fixed my ass.”
“Your ass did not need fixing, now it’s just easier to see how good it looks” Leah commented.
“Yeah ... It now has professional support!”
Leah shook her head and reached for her own shoe box.
Then she opened it.
Lin and I went quiet.
Inside were dark-blue pointed stilettos with narrow heels that looked less like shoes and more like a threat designed by an orthopedic surgeon.
I stared.
“I can’t afford an ambulance if you break your ankle. Are you sure about those, Leah?”
Leah sat down and slipped one on.
The heel was impossibly thin. There was no platform, no ankle strap, no visible concession to human balance.
Lin leaned forward.
“How do you walk in those?”
“Normally.”
Leah put on the second shoe, stood and crossed the room without wobbling once.
I watched her feet.
“No.”
She stopped.
“No what?”
“That should not be possible.”
“They’re just heels.”
“They’re weapons.”
Lin nodded. “I think Mia’s right.”
Leah turned neatly and walked back toward us, the slit in her dress opening exactly as far as she intended. “I can teach you, but it’s a difficult lesson. I started learning when I was ten”
Not one uncertain step. Not one ankle twitch.
I looked down at my thick heels and supportive straps.
Training wheels.
Then back at Leah’s tiny blue murder spikes.
“I hate you.” I said mockingly.
She smiled at me, “No, you don’t.”
She stopped beside me and looked us both over in the mirror.
“OK. Final review.”
Her eyes moved over my hair, makeup, necklace, dress and shoes.
Then stopped.
“Your bag.”
I looked around.
“My what?”
“Your evening bag.”
“I have a purse.”
“You have a shoulder bag.”
“It carries things.”
“It does not go with the dress.”
There it was.
A tiny crack.
Leah looked toward the garment bags, then the shoe boxes, mentally retracing the entire shopping trip.
“We forgot a clutch.”
Not you forgot.
We forgot.
I had never heard her include herself in a mistake before.
She checked the time again.
“We don’t have time to go back. I should have thought of it when we bought the shoes.”
“It’s fine.”
“It isn’t. You need your phone, card, keys, lipstick—”
“I travel light.”
Leah looked at me.
“I’ll keep my phone and card in your bag. That’s it. You already have yours.”
She hesitated.
“My bag is small.”
“My phone isn’t.”
Lin laughed.
I held out my hand.
“Nothing to worry about. We’ll share.”
Leah looked at the clock, then at me, then finally nodded.
“Fine.”
The fracture closed almost immediately.
“Phone and card only,” she said. “No keys. Lin can let us back in.”
Lin raised her mug.
“Apparently I’m now coat check.”
Leah ignored her and handed me the bag.
Still, for once, I had fixed something before she did.
Leah checked the time again.
The crack had vanished.
“Our ride is here in five minutes.” She looked at me. “Anything else you need, or are you ready to head out?”
I looked down at the dress, the shoes, the necklace, then at the small bag now carrying both our essentials.
For once, there was nothing missing.
“I’m ready.”
Leah nodded.
“Good.”
Back in control. Like the purse problem had never happened.
The car waiting outside was not a normal Uber.
It was black, polished and large enough that the rear seats seemed to have opinions about people who carried backpacks.
I stopped beside it.
“This is an Uber?”
“Uber Black,” Leah said.
“My luxury option is usually not sharing with strangers.”
“That is called UberX.”
“I thought the X meant exclusive.”
“It does not.”
The driver opened the door for us.
Leah gathered her skirt and slid inside with one clean movement. I followed more carefully, holding the slit closed with one hand and trying not to crush the dress under me.
The leather seat was softer than my bed.
I sat straight-backed, knees angled together, terrified that one wrong movement would wrinkle something Leah had spent two days controlling.
Beside me, Leah leaned back like the car belonged to her.
Her legs were crossed. One dark-blue heel swung slowly from her foot, sharp and narrow, like a snake waiting to strike.
“You can relax,” she said.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re sitting like the seat is electrified.”
“I’m protecting the dress.”
“The dress can survive sitting.”
“Better safe than sorry”
Leah looked out the window.
I tried leaning back.
The satin shifted under me.
I sat up again.
She did not comment, which was somehow worse.
We reached the museum at seven-ten.
The entrance had been dressed for the event with ropes, lights and several people in black standing around with tablets. Cars pulled up in a steady line, releasing people who looked as though they had arrived already knowing where to stand.
The driver opened our door.
Leah stepped out first.
I followed, remembering shorter steps, smooth the dress, knees together, do not expose myself before reaching the entrance.
A man in a dark suit greeted us beneath the lights.
“Good evening. Names, please?”
“Leah Takahashi with Miriam Williams.”
He found Leah first, then glanced at me before locating my name beneath hers.
Something was checked off on the digital pad.
Then something else.
He smiled and stepped aside.
“Perfect. Please follow me.”
Leah moved immediately, and I followed her into the museum.
The man led us through a side corridor and into the museum proper.
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