Chapter 6: Caught snooping

Author’s vanity note: thank you for all your comments!

Oh fuck, oh fuck ... She’d been caught. Alice had fallen face-down on Tristan’s desk, and she was still frantically trying to stand up on a shifting pile of boxes. All she achieved with her futile effort was to wiggle her butt in the air as if in invitation. On top of which she was wearing a decorative chainmail bikini and nothing else, like some slut. Perfect, she thought sarcastically. Her face blazed with embarrassment. This kind of stuff always happened to her. Well, not exactly this, she hadn’t ever been caught ass-up scantily clad in someone else’s room. Not ever. She wasn’t the type. But skating on the edge of disaster - and occasionally falling off? Alice experienced that humilation every month. Week. Day.

As she heard his footsteps stop behind her, Alice tried to get her feet back under her. She waded through the remaining boxes on his desk, inadvertently scattering them too, eventually spinning herself around to her back. She tried to stand but slipped on a fallen box. Insult, meet injury - defeated, she lay draped on his desk, propping herself up on her elbows, watching him approach.

It might just be her imagination but his body looked like it was steaming. She didn’t look at his face, as it that would make it real. If she didn’t see his face that meant he wouldn’t see her either, right? Besides, looking down had the added bonus of allowing her to admire his calves, his thighs, his stomach, his chest...

Um ... Was she forgetting something? Surely not. Oh alright. Fine, she was looking. To be honest her eyes were fixated on it. Tristan was hugely, gloriously erect. It hung down threateningly, pointing directly at her. It was long, rampant, demanding. It looked like it was as thick around as her wrist, it’d never fit. But that could just be her shock talking. Big and bulbous and thick with two dangling ... She swallowed, her mouth opening slightly. She closed it. It opened slightly again. His thing was still so hard. Why was it so hard? It looked painful. Purple. It was looking her way, drooling a little. Her heart beat faster. That was just nerves, right?

Why couldn’t she resist licking her lips?

“A-a-a-Alice?!” he stuttered, incredulous, pointing at her with both his finger and his cock.

That was two on one! Unfair! Alice imagined stretching her mouth around his penis or it sliding slowly into ... Er - better think about something else.

“Hey Boss.” she said weakly, trying her best to sound normal. “I ... er ... I brought your phone back.”

Tristan tried to speak but looked like he had trouble forming words. That’s okay. Alice could just enjoy the view.

She blushed, feeling like her face would burst into flame at any moment. She finally looked at his face. He was blushing too, from his chin to the tip of his ears, like a clear teapot filled with scalding red water. So he could get embarrassed too ... maybe he was a little shyer than she gave him credit for. Shy, but with his cock out. It was still looking at her. Hungrily. Or was that her? She felt a mad urge to touch it.

In many respects, it’s safe to say Tristan was unusual. In this one, though, he was a typical virgin. In this moment, he didn’t give a damn how Alice had gotten into his room, or why she’d slipped into his skimpy slave girl costume. No, the important thing was that his friend - girlfriend? - was here, had caught him masturbating, and had decided her logical next step was to wiggle her ass at him in that outfit.

Alice looked incredible. He’d bought the cosplay kit ages ago, figuring it was the closest he’d ever get to Ababha from his favorite series Beaphix 5; the sci-fi fantasy woman he’d decorated - er, who’d decorated his walls during puberty. This was better. Alice looked just like her, perfectly cast with her dark skin glowing in the sun’s final golden rays. But it was still Alice, and that made it even better. Her strength and spirit in her eyes, even in this position. Embarrassment too. And something else, something he didn’t understand. The copper rings curved around her torso and over her breasts, holding two tiny squares of leather over her nipples. Below, the sheer red silk loincloth covered everything private but kept none of Alice’s secrets. Not to mention the long, ebony landscape of her bare stomach, drawing his eyes, his hands, his tongue - stop, Tristan! Look at her! Reassure her first.

He was still feeling barely-contained panic over being caught with his dick in his hand - literally. What saved him was that the whole situation didn’t feel quite real to him. And there were more important things to consider. Like Alice, sprawled over his desk, defenseless. He couldn’t decide whether to help her up, run away, or punish her. The latter, years of fantasies cried out. Impossible. Well what else should he do? He didn’t know. Didn’t he have this fantasy like three times in the last week? Run with it. No, he wasn’t brave enough. He ... She was sprawled over his desk uncomfortably, watching him vacillate.

Pull yourself together. Look at the worry in her eyes, no, the desire. Whatever - just help her, okay? Okay. Tristan breathed in, deeply. Then let it out. When he spoke next, his tone was different. Changed.

“I believe you’ve scored a point, Alice.” he said evenly. “All the blood in my head has gone elsewhere.”

He gestured to his lower half, keeping his hands far away. To give her an unobstructed view. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. He couldn’t resist swinging it subtly, watching her eyes follow its oscillations as if he’d used it to hypnotize her. Stop being childish, idiot!

“Is that for me ... or Stacy?” Alice whispered.

From her expression, Tristan didn’t think she’d intended to ask the question.

“Both.” he said, honestly.

She looked up at him, frowning. Tristan realized with horror how she’d taken it. He’d been talking about this one time - you know, the porn, the threesome he’d been vicariously experiencing. He hadn’t meant forever. He’d just told the truth! Now Alice thought he was an asshole. He wasn’t some playboy, he was a virgin! And we was likely to remain that way forever at this rate. He didn’t know how to handle this. Should he explain it to her? Sure, you definitely have the social skills for that, he lambasted himself sarcastically. She’d never believe him anyway.

He didn’t have to follow up - Alice was staring at his dick again.

Even if he did want to - his erection bounced - date them both, Stacy had gotten what she’d wanted, moved on. And even if she hadn’t, it’s not like he’d end up with her. But Alice ... who knew. He was rolling the dice in the first place. Fuck. At least he’d gotten to see her in this sexy costume. Better change the subject. Keep it light, Tristan.

“Are you just going to lie there forever? When I said I was going to tie you to a desk...” he began, walking toward her. “I didn’t think you’d take it literally.”

She smiled, taking the hand he offered, and Tristan felt relieved. Alice wasn’t scarred for life by the view. He hated the way he looked; everything seemed the wrong size. He kept his shameful naked body as far away from her as possible as he helped her to her feet.

“Two women? Pig.” she stuck out her tongue. “So now I know your weakness. It’s important to know these things if I’m going to be working under you.”

Tristan said nothing, feeling ashamed.

“Maybe I did come here to be tied to your desk. Maybe I love it.” she said cockily, gaining steam. “But it’s so sad, you said with rope, and it doesn’t look like you have any...”

Alice ended that sentence with a strangled squeak as she saw just what lay under her right foot. Rope. He saw the moment of fear on her face. He winced. He released her hand and took several quick steps back, so she could run away if she wanted to. Fuck, why had he bought that? Now she knew everything. Now this would probably be the last time he’d ever see her.

“Alice, you’re free to leave my ... office at any time.” Tristan sighed. “Thanks for returning my phone.”

Clearly she’d been expecting him to say something else. It took her a moment to work through it.

“Just like that?” Alice asked, disbelief in her tone.

She probably thought he was some kind of kidnapper, abducting women and tying them up for his pleasure.

“Sure. If you want to you can change out of that outfit in the bathroom. Just ignore my ... movie if it’s still on. Either way, see you tomorrow.” he said, easily. “I need to ... finish.”

Even now it throbbed, bobbing slightly in her vague direction. He could cover himself, but he wouldn’t. She’d come here, peeped on him. There was no point in showing any further weakness.

There was what felt like an hour of awkward silence as he waited for her to leave.

“What ... what if I don’t want to go yet?” she said hesitantly.

What? Tristan’s knees lost strength as his cock surged back to full hardness. He couldn’t have heard her correctly. Wasn’t she terrified; didn’t she see him as some demon now? Had he ever been this hard? Not likely. He felt his skin stretch, taut, almost painful. Alice was half-naked in front of him in a uniform straight out of fiction! She knew his fetish! And she wanted to stay!

He still made no move to cover himself as it swung lewdly in the air. She made no move toward the door, still baring herself to him in her tiny costume, just a few steps away. She was staring at his ... He shunted the thought aside or else he’d lose his nerve.

“If you stay here you will need to help.” Tristan said calmly.

“Ye...” she croaked, then cleared her throat “Yeah?”

“Either you go or ... I’m gonna ask you to pose, and we’ll ... work something out.” he tried hard to keep a straight face at his cheesy words.

Alice snorted at his silly innuendo. Just as he’d intended.

“You idiot.” she laughed, probably relieved. “That’s terrible. That one’s so obvious it’s a single entendre.”

“Right. So bye. See you tomorrow.” he sighed again, waving at her.

He turned back to the bathroom.

“Jerk. You don’t think I’ll do it.” She stood up, a determined expression on her face. “We’ll call that a bet. And me? I really hate to lose.”

She walked up to him and put the short heavy metal chain of the collar in his hands. Her fingers worked rapidly, fastening the collar around her neck.

What had she done? Had she just handed her leash to Tristan? Why did she even have a leash? It was so degrading. In the moment she had wanted to prove him wrong, nothing else. End of story. Period. Okay, maybe secretly she wanted to try it - briefly - after seeing those actresses. She’d never live this down. Her curiosity was going to get her in real trouble soon. If this was trouble, she wanted more. No she didn’t.

The moment she’d finished fastening her collar, she felt the tug of the chain around her neck. Pulling her to his bed. She didn’t ... wasn’t quite ready for anything more than some heavy petting yet. Did he know that? Could he control himself? Alice guessed she knew the answer to that already. If he hinted she could leave one more time she’d scream in frustration.

He yanked her lead suddenly, harshly. The collar constricted her, became a force on her neck. He pulled her forward like an animal, or an object, against her will. It was against her will, right? Even if he’d stop whenever she asked? Alice tried not to think about that. She followed quickly, had to jog to keep up with the unforgiving tug of the decorative necklace. She was at the bed already but he wasn’t stopping. Her momentum forced her to leap onto his mattress like she’d been thrown onto it. Almost like she was eager. She braced herself. Any minute now he’d jump on too and they’d...

She felt a gentle hand on her chin draw her upward. Wasn’t he going to jump on? She followed the soft pressure obediently, rising to her knees on his bed. Her arm accidentally brushed against his rampant hardness. She shivered from head to toe. It burned her, like a branding iron. She felt an answering pulse of heat from her womb, embers flaring to life. Could she touch it again? Accidentally?

Meekly Alice followed his insistent hands as they positioned her arms on the bed behind her. She indulged him as he pushed her lower back upward - what? Oh - she realized he wanted her to lean backward and stick out her chest. Were her little boobs really that great? She smiled at him shyly. She savored the swell of excitement as he put his hands between her legs ... and felt slightly disappointed as he just parted her thighs. Finally, agonizingly, he withdrew. Leaving her posed, like a doll. Leaving her body humming. Wasn’t he going to take advantage of her?

Alice sat with her legs folded behind her, her hands propping her up, her breasts reaching for the roof, for his viewing pleasure. The room was pleasantly warm but her flushed skin was increasing in temperature. A little drop of sweat rolled down her back. This was far lewder than just posing naked. It felt more revealing somehow, more exposed. Freer too, like she was playing the part of someone else. She wouldn’t do this, but that girl she’d seen in the mirror? Yeah, she totally would pose nearly bare naked on his bed.

Alice watched him, looked at his eyes as he drank in the spectacle she was making of herself. Following his gaze, she felt somewhat titillated by her own body now he was so obviously admiring it. Smooth, uninterrupted curves framed in metal. Nuder than simply being nude. Some girls wore this to geek conventions? This was so embarrassing. Thank fuck she’d shaved her legs yesterday.

“Don’t move.” he ordered her.

“Yes boss!” she chirped.

Was he going to touch her now? It was too soon. It couldn’t come soon enough. As one part of her debated what she wanted, another obediently memorized the position of her limbs. Yet another rebelled at his assumed authority, urging her to show him that she was under no-one’s control. Not even one second later she moved again, out of position. Before he could say anything, she forced herself back. Taunting him. She stuck her tongue out at him as he frowned. She was just kind-of defiant. Poking the boundaries rather than pushing. He couldn’t possibly punish that. She couldn’t keep herself still even if she wanted to, so he...

“You can’t help being naughty, can you? So now I’m not going to touch you. Not while you’re posing.” he said firmly.

Shocked, Alice opened her mouth to protest. To beg. She’d be a good girl. How dare he, hadn’t she made all this effort? She deserved to cum too! Wait, no, get it together. She wasn’t going to cum, no-one was going to cum. She snuck another look at his ... stick. She wasn’t even sure if they were dating. What had getting caught in his room done to their relationship? What was he to her? Or she to him?

He stood in front of her, less than one step away, almost close enough to touch. Gripping his erection. He was touching himself while looking at her! She should have felt horrified but only felt jealous. She felt slightly embarrassed - for her character, the one who was posing. It wasn’t her. Of course it was her. Her mind whirled. He was so close. He was too far away. This was too much, too fast. It wasn’t enough, he needed to touch her now. Or she needed to touch him. No, she was trying to tempt him. Actually, she’d put herself on display at his request. How could he want her if he had Stacy? Just let Stacy come here, Alice would show her who was boss, just like that porno.

“Let’s change our little bet. I don’t think you can stay completely still.” he leaned closer to her. “If you manage it, you’ve got my permission to sneak back in here sometime.”

She winced at the reminder, but held her pose shyly. His penis was in arm’s reach, should she choose to move. She felt the urge to change position, to break his rules - but that would mean losing the bet. Did she even want to win? Her fingers gripped his sheets in a fist. Yeah, she wanted to win. Not just because she was competitive. She wanted to touch it, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t move unless he gave her permission. She struggled with herself, but a stubborn part of her wouldn’t give in. This was Tristan’s time. He was the boss. She’d prove him wrong.

“Good girl.” he said, and she smiled widely.

She tried to move again but it was like invisible arcs of electricity bound her. She bound herself. Sweat beaded on her arms, on her stomach.

Was he really going to masturbate right in front of her, using her as material? Would just anyone do? His eyes met hers, and he smiled.

“You look awesome Alice. You’re normally so spirited. Seeing you so obedient is shocking. We should do this more often.”

So Tristan was here with Alice, wanted it to be her, not some fantasy woman. She felt relieved. Confident, even proud.

“Shocking is my middle name.” she said, huskily.

Her voice was so thick she could barely recognize it. That didn’t count as moving, right?

He took his manhood in his hand. She thrust her chest out farther and wiggled her shoulders. Wait, don’t move, Alice! Did Tristan see that?

The thought disappeared as he started stroking himself, up and down his length. Slowly gaining speed like some locomotive piston. That looked like it felt wonderful. That was the firm hand which should have been on her body. Stroking, exploring. She should touch herself, too. Could she? No, she wouldn’t. She’d show him that she could do a little thing like remain motionless. She’d win their little bet. While he jerked off to the sight of her. She stared at his penis, imagining tasting it, sucking it, licking it. Her mouth opened. She could make that real by moving just two feet. Fuck. That didn’t count as moving either, right? He smiled at her, like he knew what she was thinking. His eyes flicked to hers before returning to her body. Looking at her with such intensity. Little sparks kindled inside her.

As she held still she could process every feeling in her body. The ache of her ankles, the strain on her forearms. The arousal building within. The weight of the iron chain as it dragged at her neck, like an invisible hand pressing gently against her airway. She could feel it shift a little every time she breathed, but it never let up. The slight constraint on her throat, the hint of danger was driving her wild. Her chest heaved. He was watching her as she watched him, his lean body silhouetted by the last few rays of the sun. The room grew hotter.

She saw his desire for her in his eyes, in his movements, in the way they grew more rapid. In the way his eyes jumped rapidly over her with no rhyme or reason. From her neck to her legs. From her breasts to her arms. From her shoulders to her barely-covered pussy. Still, she held herself in place. She’d win this.

Lust ran through her veins, wild and unrestrained. Hastened by his inspection. Her pussy had soaked through the thin gossamer panties long ago, her honey lubricating her thighs. He was inspecting her everywhere, he’d definitely noted the slick wetness there.

Her heart hammered in her chest; her blood pounded in her ears. His fist made obscene sounds as it stroked incessantly back and forth along his length. His eyes looked deep into hers. Trying to send her a message. This was for her, she did this to him. He wanted her.

She saw his glans emerging and disappearing, so rapidly it blurred, each glimpse of it both alarming and delicious.

She could smell her excitement, smell Tristan’s scent filling her sinuses, her mind.

With each panting breath her body throbbed.

She heard his voice catch.

He groaned, deep and animalistic. Her eyes were riveted to his fist. Suddenly he froze. The bulbous head of his cock protruded over his fingers. It grew, changed color. She saw it pulse once, twice. She felt something in her pussy squeeze sympathetically as his member jerked.

An arc of liquid shot from the tip, splashing her breasts an instant later with a line of pearly white liquid. Marking her with his passion. A long ribbon of burning white snow on her charcoal skin. The hot liquid made her skin tingle. It was his heat. It was his desire for her. The warmth soaked into her skin, into her memory, adding to the furnace inside her. Dangerously building it up, making her unstable. Alice shook as a scorching wave of sensation rushed through her. Somehow she resisted moving - he hadn’t given her permission.

Tristan’s second blast of cum daubed her stomach. Again she felt that shock, his fire adding to hers. She moaned, as she burned from within. An inferno, itching for sensation. No, she wouldn’t move. She’d show him that she could win this. The pressure built inside. She’d keep it together.

Another long line sprayed her legs. Was he that backed up? Was he that attracted to her? She dimly noted Tristan frantically trying to point it away from her, covering the tip. He was saying something, apologizing probably. She couldn’t hear him.

Alice felt she was being sucked into the vortex of a molten whirlpool. She swayed from side to side. A rushing feeling filled her world, the heat inside her flowing into a single point. Fracturing her, growing beyond her control. Alice gasped, her body shaking. She struggled to hold her pose, to obey, sweat making her palms slip on his bed. She had to cum. She couldn’t. She had to, now!

“Can I...” she heard herself saying. “Boss ... Can I - can I please...”

She groaned, her mouth closed, almost slumping over. No, she had to stay in position. She rose back up, trembling, almost vibrating with a desperate need to cum, her whole being focused on restraining it.

She was dirty. Marked with the evidence of his lust. Proof he liked her. She felt the drops flow down her skin. It burned. It fanned the flames inside, making the effort of holding herself in one piece unbearable. She watched his essence turn translucent as it dripped. She needed to move; didn’t he get it? To touch it, touch herself, to do something, anything. She needed to cum, she was almost there! She couldn’t find the words to ask him. She couldn’t move to do anything about it. She could only endure, teetering on the edge.

“B-bo-boss...” she moaned, her body shaking, her hips making little involuntary thrusts.

Luckily Tristan understood her.

“You can move now.” Tristan said, his words cutting her bonds.

She collapsed onto her side on the bed. Her hand was instantly between her legs, flying over her clitoris. Giving herself the pressure she needed. Stimulating herself that little bit further. Just a bit more. She touched the cooling liquid over her breast with the fingers of her free hand, bringing it to her face. She liked it, liked its texture, even its strong smell. She might be that kind of girl - a naughty girl. She smeared it over herself. She grabbed her flesh beneath and squeezed it, hard. The filthy act and slight pain together pushed her over.

She tensed as she came, her knees wobbling in the air, her thighs spread wide. Alice shattered, breaking into pieces, bursting like a firework. Each piece exploded again, little stars behind her eyes, like a billion stars twinking. Her traitorous hand alternately grasped the places he’d marked and spread his cum further, all over her body. Tarnishing her, corrupting her.

“Oh yesss!” she hissed intensely, rolling her hips.

Finally, she fell back to the bed, her lust cooling a little.

She met his eyes. She searched them for judgement or satisfaction but found none, only warmth and care. Fuck, he was making it difficult to be a nice girl. She wanted more - she had to escape or else she’d launch herself at him.

“I ... er ... I...” Alice said, panting, holding herself back. “Thanks, Boss.”

He looked surprised.

“Er ... you’re welcome.” he said.

Tristan walked toward the clothes she’d discarded earlier. He found her phone and put it on top.

Guilt flowed into her as her lust evaporated away. She covered her eyes, gestured to the mess all over her body, the sweat and cum, the darker marks left by her own fingers.

“Oh no,” she wailed, “My mom would kill me. I’m ... such a naughty girl.”

Hearing nothing, she peeked at him and saw Tristan’s grin, which stretched from ear to ear.

“Well, Ms Naughty. I do believe you have a long future in my company.”

His levity had a point - who cared? It didn’t matter. Laughing, she leapt at him, intending to cover him with as much of his own stuff as possible. He wrestled her to the bed, laid her down, and explained he was about to make absolutely certain she had cum. He explained he’d enjoy far more than his own orgasm. Ridiculous. She laughed so much at this nonsense she almost didn’t notice his mouth approaching her now uncovered pussy.

Alice tried to remember how she’d gotten into this position. Everything before now was a blur, bliss clouding her mind. Earlier this afternoon she’d stolen Tristan’s phone. And Stacy had ... kissed her? That seemed unlikely. And then somehow she’d decided to come here, to Tristan’s room. And then ... explosions, waterfalls. Nice. She just needed a moment, then she’d be able to recall everything in more detail. She was safe, she was utterly relaxed.

She was sprawled out on Tristan’s bed, her mind still spinning from her orgasm, barely aware of her surroundings. Alice lay on his cheap grey cotton sheets, her heaving chest kissed by the warmth of the sunset streaming through his window. With each gasp, the cosplay bikini subtly restricted her, reminding her of its presence. The chain of burnished copper hoops that had been so shockingly cold earlier were now a similar temperature to her body. The tiny soft leather triangles which protected her modesty struggling to do even that as her erect nipples pushed them away. As if they wanted Tristan to see them. At this point, maybe she did want him to see them. Being naked would be less embarrassing than this fantasy slave princess getup - though after that wonderful release she felt a lot more comfortable in it.

Her dusky skin had a lustrous glow, shining with droplets of sweat and ... something else. Her body shivered as remembered what the substance was, and she tried to push the thought aside. She needed to keep that thought away or risk losing herself completely. Again. She focused on the feeling of the metal of the unlikely outfit, feeling how it marched in a flowing ribbon of glimmering metal rings across her upper body, catching and reflecting the little light there was. Holding and constraining her. Bottling and concentrating her. The light quietened as Tristan approached, as if it also felt her eager anticipation. Her black skin contrasted with his sheets, her clothes and his face ... his face was just a couple of feet away from her molten center now.

Wordlessly, automatically, her knees fell wide open to admit his face. Like they were arms about to embrace him. The traitors. Mentally any feeling of control she’d had fell away as she bared herself to him. She felt herself stir as Tristan’s grinning face approached her pussy slowly, casting an advancing shadow. Alice mentally kicked herself - she should have at least pretended to offer a shred of reluctance. He’d think she was easy now! Though surely that ship had sailed fifteen minutes earlier, after she’d posed for him in this tiny fetish ensemble, exposing acres of skin while he’d stroked his own ... She felt the heat within her rise.

Before she could protect herself, she felt a gentle hand on her wrist. Tristan was pushing her arm underneath her leg, close to her knee. Understanding what he wanted, Alice obediently lifted her leg slightly so her hand could firmly grip her thigh from below. The same insistent pressure on her other wrist, the same result. Now she was holding herself open for him, spread out for him like a feast. She could let go at any time. She should want to. She knew she wouldn’t. Not intentionally anyway, and she’d won the last round in more ways than one. She felt her lower lips parting like a flower, offering every bit of herself to him.

She looked down at herself, blushing as she saw her legs wide apart on the bed, lewdly exposing her most private part. She felt uncovered, exhibited, uncomfortable. It felt strange. From this angle she looked like a pornographic version of herself, a mockup done on a computer, her mind in a pornstar’s perfect body. She’d had boyfriends before; they’d gone down on her before - so why did this time feel so much more unprotected? Like her heart, not just her body, was open to him.

“If you’d like me to stop just say the word.” Tristan interrupted, his quivering voice betraying his desire.

With a last surge of brilliance, the dying sun illuminated the room with little glints of light. As if it was giving them its blessing. The fading light cast the world in shades of monochrome, like a black and white movie, or one of the artistic shoots she’d helped with at work. This one starred Alice, as if she could ever be one of the models. She wasn’t like them; she wasn’t pretty like they were. She frowned. No, she couldn’t let her insecurities ruin this moment. She scrutinized Tristan’s face, trying to understand him.

Did he even like her? Was he just toying with her? If it felt like this did she even care? Of course she did. She wasn’t that kind of girl, she reminded herself. This was a bet, a challenge. It wasn’t her. No need for that usual guilt. She wouldn’t move, she’d show him. Instead, her eyes roved his body. She could see his broad shoulders and slim chest, but everything beneath it was hidden by the edge of the bed. Pity, she still hadn’t seen his ass and judging by those legs it would be a sight worth seeing. She could barely make out the pile of battered boxes which lay over the floor between the bed and his desk like the aftermath of an avalanche, making the floor treacherous. Tristan knelt quickly, uncaring, probably crushing something to the floor in his pursuit of her pleasure. Those lucky boxes.