This is the first chapter of my first attempt at storywriting. If you like slow buildups, extreme and dark situations (basically, I will only hold back by what the rules don't allow me to do here), and seeing characters messed with mentally and emotionally -as well as violence, torture, gore, and suffering; If you like well developed plots, complex characters with their own agendas, intercrossing plotlines and interests; then this story is for you.
Jennifer took the champagne glass from the waitress’s tray with trembling hands. And with trembling hands, she brought it to her lips to take a sip. She had been taught, since little, never to drink too much in social events. Alcohol took away control, and without being in control, she couldn’t read others. Without reading others, she couldn’t be properly charming.
“Charm is the most powerful tool we women have, Jenn,” her mother had always told her. She had been tutored, schooled, drilled, and made to practice countless hours of that ever since she was a child.
“Control yourself,” she thought. “This is your night.”
The champagne felt good as it ran smoothly down her throat. And it did help her calm down. She promised, for the third time tonight, this would be the last glass. This time, she did intend to keep it that way. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself on her wedding night.
The wedding proper had already happened earlier in the afternoon. It had been an expensive, but relatively small event. Now they were at the party. She was sitting in the bride’s chair, surrounded by a few female cousins and family. She took another sip of her champagne and felt her cheeks flush.
“I can’t believe that the Oza deal fell through!” exclaimed one of her aunts, “It ruined both our families fortunes. I’ve had to..” she stopped talking when Jennifer flashed her a pointed look.
“What?” she asked.
“We aren’t supposed to talk about that… at all!” snapped Jennifer in reprimand, her tone stern and serious, but not yelling. She brought her glass up as if to take another sip to hide the sternness on her face. Her aunt’s tongue always rolled too much when she drank. She would have to see to it that she be quietly retired from the evening.
“Don’t worry about it, my father will figure it out. He will get money again..” said Ivy, her cousin, cutting in. Jennifer knew Ivy well, they had grown up together, almost like sisters. She knew the woman was smarter than this, she was only trying to give her aunt hope. There was little chance to get the money back. Jennifer caressed her arm. Ivy had always been slim and thin. She was a professional dancer, and took great care of that. Yet, she seemed to have lost even more weight since last she saw her.
Jennifer couldn’t believe she was getting married. She had been told only three weeks ago about this arrangement. A part of her was excited. Marriage at last. Getting away from home, getting to run her own household at last. But another part of her was filled with dread. She had to go into her marriage lying and keeping secrets. A few months ago, she received the news that a large investment her father and her uncle had made fell through. They had most of their personal assets and money tied into it and it had left the company ruptured and leaning on loans. In simple terms, they were broke. Her sister had already been married off to the man who controlled the media in the city, so the scandal had been kept secret. Now it was Jennifer’s turn.
She was riddled with guilt. She hadn’t seen her sister since the wedding and now, she was getting married. She felt like she got the better part of the deal. Anne had just turned 18, and was married to an old man, old enough to be her grandfather. She had never even had the opportunity to enjoy life as an adult. Jennifer, on the other hand, had had a few years of that, she was in her mid twenties and was getting married to someone her age. Someone good looking and, from the brief time they had met, who seemed pleasant enough. They had met twice only. Once in another event, where he had been nice and polite to her. He hadn’t tried to get into her pants, like most men she met. No, he had been sophisticated and a gentleman. She could, at least, hope they had a chance to grow to love each other. The second time had been about a month ago, in a formal dinner where he had proposed to her. It had been a planned event. She had smiled and feigned surprise because it’s what was expected, but it had all gone along to a predefined plan someone had made. But now she was worried. Not about getting caught, she was a good liar, her mother had trained her well. One couldn’t survive in this world without lying, she had always told her. But she didn’t know how long she would have to keep this secret, and she dreaded the possibility of failing in her mission. She needed her husband’s money to save her family. That was her duty. She needed to win him over. She needed to be perfect.
She might as well go and find her husband and spend some time with him. Because it’s what was proper and expected, she told herself. Not because these women were stressing her out. Jennifer excused herself and stood up to leave the group. She was still wearing her wedding dress: A simple but elegant white lace dress that had a corset for the bodice and sleeves that hung off her shoulders. Her black hair was loosely curled. It had been combed before, during the ceremony. But now that they were at the party it was loose. Her skirt, as well, had been shortened for the party, so it didn’t trail behind. She looked like a princess and, as she placed a smile on her face, the look was even better. She walked around, greeting those she knew, those she recognized and knew she should know, and those she had never seen before, introducing herself to them.
As she moved about she saw Molly walking around here and there, her pearl sparkling dress fitting her perfectly, crowned by a lustrous golden blonde hair. She smiled and chatted with men and women both. Making a spectacular display of social grace, but no doubt gossiping about, or extracting information that would be useful to her -or to Jennifer’s new husband- in the future. Jennifer saw an old man approach Molly. He looked quite old, easily in his seventies. Fat, and slimy. The man’s forehead was even glistening with sweat, for fuck’s sake. Jennifer left her still filled glass on a nearby table and approached a waitress who happened to be closer to them. She took a glass from her and pretended to take a sip as she took another couple steps, until she was within earshot.
“Molly, hi,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Molly smiled back, seemingly welcoming the touch and turned towards him. She hated the old pig. “I wanted to talk to you about that thing we had discussed before? Do you think you could get me an appointment with Marcus?” He kept his hand on Molly’s shoulder. He was a disgusting worm of a man, ever horny and lustful. Even now, so openly staring at Molly, almost salivating, even while asking for a favor. Pathetic. With some money, though, Jennifer knew, although his fortune was fast fading. She couldn’t know it, but he’d been pestering Molly for a meeting for quite a while now, hoping to present a deal and that Molly’s influence with Marcus would help him. Molly fought the urge to shove his hand aside and smiled at him.
“I will talk to him once he returns from his honeymoon. He is far too busy right now to bother and they leave on Monday. Upon his return, I’ll talk to him,” she replied. Though that was not a promise of a meeting.
The old man smiled at Molly, but Jennifer had to move around and switch places. She was the bride, she drew attention. She couldn’t read their body languages as she shifted spots, and lost some time giving some smiles and greetings.
“...glad I can count on you, hehe…” she heard the pig man say, and she saw his hand had slid down Molly’s arm to hold her hand. “I still remember fondly how you used to serve me before.” That last part had been harder to hear, the man had lowered his voice. Jennifer dared to take a couple steps closer. Molly smiled at him, letting him run his hand down her arm and not making a scene. Even if he was a creepy old man, he had helped her get to where she was now. Although it had been years since she had had to fuck him, thankfully she hadn’t had to lower herself to that again.
“I remember as well,” she said sweetly. Her hypocrisy was clearly lost in the man, who was too focused both on Molly’s body and her capacity to ensure the meeting. It was not lost to Jennifer, though, who could see through her lies. The man’s smile widened in a perturbing way.
“Maybe we could have a dance?” he asked.
“Actually, I am going to get some champagne and I have some matters to tend to about the party,” she said, excusing herself. “I’m sorry. But I will be in touch,” she offered, careful not to give any dates. She slid her hand off the pig man’s and, like a guided missile, went straight for a waitress. Jennifer didn’t fail to notice Molly aimed for the waitress who was furthest away, fully passing three others who were closer. Far in the distance, Jennifer saw Molly grab a glass of champagne and drink it all down in one gulp. Then she lost sight of her as a group of people approached her. Jennifer smiled as she turned to them and engaged in polite conversation, hoping to find a window to leave them soon.
—-----
It was about half an hour later when Jennifer finally got to find her husband. She found him just off the party, by the gardens. Close enough that the party area was just around the corner, and some music could be heard, but far enough that one could talk easily and with some modicum of privacy. They weren’t alone. A few couples, or groups of people, talked or walked around, each group clearly in their own bubble of conversation.
Marcus was talking with Molly, each one having a glass of champagne in their hands. Jennifer was annoyed by now. Annoyed at being alone in the party, annoyed at having to smile and play politics all night, annoyed at marrying someone she barely knew, alone at having to lie to him. This wasn’t even her party. This was not the type of wedding she had wanted. She was annoyed at everything. As she approached them, she couldn’t help but notice the sharp contrast between the two people. And the similarities too, she was forced to admit to herself with even more annoyance. Marcus was well built. Not a mountain of a man, but fit above average. He was twentyfour, just like her. Everything was well put in him. Posture, suit, attitude. His short, black hair nicely trimmed, his grey eyes focused. Molly, on the other hand, was close to forty. Perfectly preserved, she even looked a bit younger than her age. But she was much older than the man she served. Like him, though, she had everything well put in place. The both of them seemed to fit perfectly with one another. She could see them talking naturally as she approached them. Molly’s smile, unlike with the pig from earlier, seemed genuine here. That only annoyed Jennifer more. She saw Molly noticing her approach and saying something quick to Marcus, the conversation they had been having clearly shifting. Marucs half turned to her as she approached, forming a circle for the three of them.
“Marcus, where have you been all night?” she asked exasperated as she approached them.
“Jenn, my love,” he said with a friendly tone, with the subtle warning to remind her yo keep her tone appropriate behind it. He left it clear he was consciously letting this behavior pass… this time. “Is something wrong?” he asked. He needed her to act properly. He swallowed his annoyance at her not being smiling and perfect, knowing one had to be patient with wives. Molly was just a mask of a smile aimed at Jennifer. She could swear the blonde even raised an eyebrow slightly at her.
Jennifer breathed in hard and willed herself to control. She knew she had stepped out of line and needed to keep her own tone light. These events were a constant battle of appearances, and anything could spark a rumor. Rumors were as dangerous as blades in this world. She wanted to ask so many questions, and didn’t know where to start. Finally, seeing Molly standing there, she chose the one that had annoyed her the most.
“Why didn’t you let me help pick out the rings… or.. do anything for the wedding?” She asked. That had bothered her greatly, when the preparations for the wedding happened and she hadn’t been included at all.
“Well, Molly arranged the wedding because no one stepped up to do it,” replied Marcus, looking at Jennifer pointedly. Jennifer did her best not to stare open-mouthed at him. She had asked, of course. Casually at first, thinking the groom and bride would plan it together. Then, when she had received no reply, she had tried in a formal way, thinking maybe Marcus was approaching this purely in a business-like manner. All requests had gone unanswered. The last ones had even said the planning and hiring had already been taken care of, and no help was required. Molly, seeking to hide a triumphant smile, took a sip of her champagne. Jennifer could see the smile through the woman’s eyes though.
“I did ask…” she began, then composed herself to make it look, from afar, that the three of them were just talking. It dawned on her that she had been intentionally ignored and overlooked. “I did ask. I sent messages. They returned with dismissive replies. That it was not necessary, that it was already being taken care of…”
“Jenn, you’re not a stupid woman. You know how things in our world works. If you want something, you go and take it. If you don’t, someone else will. The best woman arranged the wedding. It was Molly and not you because you didn’t want to be the best. What stopped you from stepping up and asserting your authority as my bride to oversee the planning? Nothing… just you.”
Jennifer eyed Molly with cold anger. The blonde woman seemed entertained and triumphant eyeing her back. She had never liked Molly, not from the start. But she never thought the bitch would go so far as to decide rejecting her participation. How dare she? Molly was nothing but a slave. Jennifer was a free woman, and a wife now. She had always thought the rejections had come from Marcus himself, not from this whore. Her anger mixed with indignation. But inside her, she knew Marcus was right. Jennifer had taken her position and authority for granted. She had expected to be taken and obeyed by Molly and the other slaves of Marcus’ household. Because that’s how it worked with the slaves and her mother back home. Clearly she had been wrong. This was not a good start and it worried her that this Molly person thought herself the best woman for planning this wedding. Worse, it meant Molly had won their first battle, and Jennifer hadn’t even known it had happened. What would the other slaves think of her now? She was starting with the wrong foot.
“Of course, Marcus,” replied Jennifer meekly and didn’t continue to argue back. The annoyance had been replaced by shame, by a hurt pride, and by the knowledge she had failed even before she knew she had begun. “I’m sorry for the outburst,” she said. She was, indeed, sorry for that. It was not proper for a wife to act like that in public, nor for the bride to do so in her wedding. She was not, however, sorry for what she felt. She had expected Marcus to show more interest, to ask for her. He hadn’t. She reached for his hand and turned him ,so they were facing one another, leaving Molly out of the group.
“Molly, you can go now. My husband and I have things to talk about…” her hand led his to her waist, while the other ran a finger down his chest, “...and marital things to do…” she finished in a suggestive way. Molly made to reply, but when she saw Marcus attention was fully on the young bitch, she knew better.
“Of course, Jennifer” she said deferentially. “Goodnight Marcus, have fun,” she said, pointedly not wishing it to her.
“Should we go somewhere more private?” she heard Jennifer ask as she walked away. Molly knew Marcus would spend the night with his new wife. Of course he would, even if he didn’t want her. And she knew Marcus enough to know he found Jennifer attractive. And from their conversations she knew he had gotten a good impression of her. Still, Molly had dared to hope nothing would happen. She didn’t like Jennifer. She didn’t want any more competition in the house. She had enough of that. And Jennifer was the worst. Smart, charming, pretty, and young. Molly hid her anger and put on a smile as she walked back to the party, leaving the two newlyweds alone. She needed a drink. And probably some girl to beat and fuck tonight.
—----------
A few minutes later Molly was by the bar, taking a glass of whisky. It wasn’t prudent to mix drinks, and she was already feeling tipsy, but the woman needed something stronger than champagne.
“Excuse me?” asked a female voice from behind. “Molly, right?” She asked. Molly saw a woman standing next to her. She was almost as tall as her, clearly younger, but not a young woman. In her early thirties, it seemed. She had pale white skin and brown hair, cut to shoulder length. Dressed in a pale green dress that hung to her thin body. And it was thin. Marcus would have loved it. Small tits, slim waist, almost no ass and long legs that seemed to stretch forever. With the alcohol running through her veins, Molly wanted to eat her out. She controlled herself.
“Yes,” she said politely, turning and putting on a -not hard to do- smile. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, miss..?”
“Ivy,” replied the woman with a smile. “Ivy Hart.”
Hart. She was a fucking Hart, like Jennifer.
“So, how are you finding the party, Ivy?” asked Molly, sensing Ivy had approached her for something in particular, and purposefully going around it.
“Oh, it’s nice,” said Ivy, with ill-disguise disinterest for the topic. “I was hoping… maybe you could help me with something, actually,” she asked, with a shy tone that made her even more cute.
“Oh I can help you with anything, honey,” thought Molly hungrily.
“And what would that be?” she asked back, curious.
Having drunk so much, the woman’s defenses were slipping, and Ivy could catch a glimpse of Molly’s hunger. She hid her smile. She knew how to get her way in. Ivy took a step closer to Molly. Imperceptible to anyone around, but Molly was keenly aware of it. So close, she could take in the woman’s scent. Molly felt a tingling in her crotch.
“I hear you’re the woman to talk to if one needs something with Mr. Bezer, Molly,” she said, a light tone of innocence and unsurety coloring her tone. Molly’s breath was getting shallower. Ivy’s delicate, long fingers reached forward and brushed the woman’s forearm.
“My husband died a short while ago. I have possessions of his savings. I wish to invest them in your master’s company.”
Molly raised an eyebrow, surprised. A woman widowed from a rich husband, with no children. That was the dream.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” replied Molly, but it was clear Ivy wasn’t so sorry. She shrugged.
“Yes, terrible,” she said, not sounding like it was terrible at all. “So… maybe you could… put in a word for me with your master?” she said, her other arm brushing Molly’s crotch and belly over the dress. Molly gasped. The alcohol was making her lose control. And in public. But, arousal aside, this was a perfect opportunity. Those two leaving on a honeymoon was the last thing Molly wanted. Who knew what ideas that Jennifer bitch would plant in him while away, alone the two of them. If she could convince Marcus this meeting was important, was urgent… then there would be a reason to cancel the trip. Marcus would never put some mere pleasure trip over business. Even less with more funding for the NX project still unsecured. This was perfect. Molly’s eyes hardened and a new type of smile appeared on her face.
“We could see about that,” she said, “in a more private place.”
A minute later they were barging inside a bathroom, closing and locking the door behind them. Molly grabbed Ivy by the hair, her fingers slipping between the strands and taking a good hold. She raised Ivy’s face upwards and planted a deep kiss, sinking her tongue into the woman’s mouth. It took an instant for her to feel Ivy’s tongue replying, wrestling and playing back. She pulled away and, still holding her by the hair, guided Ivy’s mouth all over her face. Ivy obediently complied, kissing and licking wherever Molly moved her about. She let her go and, while Ivy still kissed, her, sent her hands to explore the girl’s body. She felt the slim waist, the tiny tits. Her hands crept up, towards the neck, and undid Ivy’s dress, letting the top fall down exposing the bare flesh. Ivy wiggled and pushed it down, until the dress fell to the floor and she stepped over it. Ivy knew the price she would have to pay if she wanted to secure this meeting. She didn’t mind. Ivy was a lesbian, a secret she kept well hidden, and Molly was hot. She knelt on the cold floor, placed her hands on Molly’s hips, and looked up, submissive and smiling.
“You want this meeting to happen, bitch?” asked Molly, looking down on her. Ivy nodded “Yes”
*SMACK*
The slap came sudden and hard, landing loudly on Ivy’s cheek and leaving a red mark. Ivy felt the pain like a jolt exploding in her face. Her right eye watered a bit, and the pain gave way to a burning sensation.
“Fucking piece of shit…” continued Molly. The anger she had felt at Jennifer, at how the bitch had sent her away in front of Marcus… like if she was nothing. She thought she could come and undo all she had worked for? Fucking Jennifer… Fucking Harts…
“Fucking whore…” she continued. She brought her leg back and then kicked forward, sinking her heeled shoe in Ivy’s stomach. The girl was sent back and landed sideways on the floor, curled and holding her belly. Molly could feel her crotch getting wet. She would stain her dress if she didn’t do something quick. She took it off, slowly and dramatically as the Hart cunt on the floor recovered.
“You Harts think you can come in and do whatever the fuck you want…” she said as she carefully hang the dress on a hook, not caring for the green one of Ivy lying on the floor, “You can marry whoever you want, demand meetings whenever you want…” She approached Ivy slowly, taking slow steps as she let her pent up anger out. Ivy stayed in place, knowing she would have to take this. She liked women, but hated the pain. She didn’t know what to do, and just remained still.
Molly reached her, and pulled her by the hair forcefully. With a yelp, she began to raise, only to be punched once in the shoulder, the next blow came and landed squarely on her tit, sending even more waves of pain and making her cry out. She wiggled in pain, forcing Molly to release her. That only made her angrier.
“You piece of shit!” exclaimed Molly even angrier. She moved on top of Ivy, “You… fucking… piece… of… shit!” she exclaimed as she slapped Ivy over and over all over her body. She calmed down a bit and she recovered her breath. “You want your meeting. Fine, then be a good little bitch,” she said as she pushed some hair out of her face. She grabbed her once more from the hair, opened her legs, and led her there. This time, Ivy didn’t skip a bit. She knelt, sank her face against Molly’s pussy, and began eating her out. She began by kissing and biting at the inner thighs, then teasing around the labia, but not going in. That seemed to have an effect. Molly was less angry, breathing softly as one of her hands caressed Ivy’s face. Ivy’s hands crept up, feeling the blonde woman’s legs, stroking her thighs and going behind to explore her ass. She bit Molly’s labia, and rubbed her nose against her clit. She could feel the woman was wet, and smearing it all over her face. She smiled at the feeling of pussy juices on her face. Her tongue began tasting her, and Molly let out a pleased moan. Ivy kept at it, sucking, licking and biting. Her finger began playing with Molly’s pussy as well, and slid inside her while with her other hand Ivy began to masturbate herself. Molly let out another moan as first one finger, then two, slid inside her. Her aching pussy sucked them in, eager to be fucked. Ivy obliged, moving them up and down, up and down, wriggling them inside her. Molly got wetter, and Ivy slurped it all in, enjoying the intoxicating, deliciously rich taste.
“Yes, whore…” exhaled Molly as Ivy kept going. Ivy moaned, in agreement and gratitude. She began to finger fuck Molly harder. Reluctantly, she brought her other hand up and out of her own pussy, to get a better hold of Molly by the hips as the fucking became more furious. Molly was lost in pleasure. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, legs opened wide, with Ivy between them. Her face was shot upwards, to the ceiling, her mouth hanging open as she breathed out loudly. Every now and then a moan would escape, her body would spasm with some wave of pleasure shooting through her like electricity. Her hand was clenched firmly around Ivy’s, as she fucked her more and more. Ivy could feel her arm beginning to hurt, then feel it burn, as the continuous motion took it to the limit. But she pushed through the pain, sensing Molly was getting closer and closer to an orgasm. Molly’s legs were beginning to shake, and her pussy was drenched in fluids, as was Ivy’s face. Her makeup was ran and ruined, but she didn’t care. Ivy’s cunt and thighs were also wet and aching ,but the woman couldn’t pleasure herself right now. Nor did she want to. It had been a while since she had tasted another woman. Molly could feel the orgasm building up inside her. Her body tensed up and, sensing what was to come, Ivy made one last effort through the burning muscles of her arms, to keep the rhythm going. Suddenly, Molly exploded. Squirt gushed out of her pussy like a fountain, showering Ivy’s face and hair, and spraying all over the floor and one of the cubicle doors, making a pool where the woman sat. Ivy didn’t care. She opened her mouth and received what she could, swallowing it happily. Molly moaned as the orgasm ravaged through her. Her whole body trembled. She tried her best to lock her legs in place, but her body was overwhelmed. She fell down, Ivy deftly receiving her and using her own face to cushion down the fall. Ivy came crashing down to the floor, hitting her back and head on the marble floor with a loud back and a wet splash from the squirt underneath. Her vision blurred as the pain from the head hit sent waves all over her, but she had no time to react. An instant later, Molly crashed on top of her. Part of Molly’s knees took the blow as she fell, but most of her weight came onto Ivy’s face through Molly’s crotch. Molly screamed in pain, the pain mixing with her still going orgasm and enhancing the sensation. To Ivy, the pain became divine. She enjoyed every microsecond of Molly’s pussy pressed against her face and had enough presence of mind to hold the woman so that she was kneeling on top of her.
Finally, the orgasm passed. Molly was left kneeling on top of Ivy, weak and still recovering. Every now and then, a spasm made her body jump weakly, aftermaths of the shock. Ivy kept dutifully eating her out as she recovered herself, her hands wrapped around Molly’s thighs, groping them. Molly’s breath recovered, and finally she was able to speak. “I need to pee,” she muttered through ragged breaths. Ivy made no move to “release” her hold on Molly, and the blonde woman smiled approvingly. She incorporated herself, accommodating her kneeling posture on top of Ivy’s face. A moment later, warm piss burst out. Molly hadn’t drunk too much water. The piss came out yellow and rancid. Ivy loved it. She opened her mouth and lapped as much as she could of it, while the rest showered her face and pooled on the floor around her hair. Molly’s thighs held a firm grip around Ivy’s face, making the piss pool on her face a bit before trickling down. She didn’t care that her own legs were being stained. She exhaled in relaxation as the pressure from her bladder disappeared. Once done, she stood up, piss and squirt dripping from her pussy, and smearing her legs and heels. But she was pleased. She was relaxed. For now, at least. She smiled as she looked down. Lying on the floor, Ivy’s naked body squirmed in soft delight, her legs and arms moving about in a pool of squirt and piss. Her hair was a wet mess, as if she had just come out of the shower. Her face was ruined as well. One cheek red where she had slapped her, and her make up completely ruined and smeared all over. Bruises on her shoulder and tit began to appear. She smiled and nodded, pleased. Ivy was still squirming on the floor, enjoying the moment. She began rubbing her own pussy as she turned around to lie facedown, and began sucking in the liquid. Molly walked towards Ivy’s dress and grabbed it, using it as a towel to dry her legs and crotch.
“I will talk to Marcus about this meeting you want,” she said. “He has a project right now that is in need of investors. Due to the nature of your capital, and the urgency, I think it would be prudent to have the meeting on monday.” She didn’t like having to tell Ivy the project needed the money. that was giving her more information and power than she liked. But it was necessary to plant in Ivy -and in as many as possible- the idea that the deal had to be closed with urgency. She finished cleaning herself off and threw the dress back to the floor without a care. Then walked to hers and put it on. Ivy was still on the floor, her legs were wide open and she was fingering herself as her other hand played with her nipples.
“You’re pathetic,” she snapped at her as she finished dressing up. That only seemed to spurr the woman on. She smiled and fucked herself even more furiously.
“Yes mistres…” she muttered, “I’m a pathetic toilet whore…” she said, more to herself than to Molly. Molly just rolled her eyes impatiently. She took out a paper, wrote down something, and left it by the sinks.
“My number. Call me tomorrow for the details of the meeting.” she said, before she stormed off the bathroom. The only consideration she granted Ivy was leaving the door locked as she left. Let the whore suffer through the humiliation of leaving this place ruined.