Between Reel and Reality (Lesbian Romance)

Chapter Thirteen: The Return of Stunna

CIERRE

Laid bare by the game of strip poker, all that remains on my frame is my lingerie set. With meticulous attention, I handpicked each delicate thread of lace to create the ensemble, intending to gauge any lingering attraction from my ex.

Throughout the night, I've been discreetly observing her every move and gesture, starting with friendly touches like the gentle squeeze of a muscle or the soft trail of a finger. As we began gambling, I skillfully transformed my losses into strategic advantages. When I surrendered my top, I leaned against Amel with laughter, allowing her greedy gaze to savor the jiggle of my cleavage. Taking it a step further, as I removed my pants, I provocatively positioned my ass close to her face. She licked her lips at the moisturized buns as if she could taste their flavor. Earlier, she claimed she wouldn't travel down Cierre Boulevard again, but if I permitted her a license, she seemed ready for a joy ride.

"So, what's the move, Cici?" Sporting a mischievous look, Yeli flutters her eyelashes and tweaks her mouth, coated in red lipstick.

Yet again, I'm presented with the dilemma of stripping or accepting a dare. I nip my cheek as I ponder my choice. The fear of a wild request lingers—perhaps something like sucking on Amel's breasts. My peripheral vision captures Amel, their natural, alluring gaze resting under their baseball cap. Along with the hat, only boxer briefs adorn her body. She's displaying those "cool" screw-designed nipple rings she has been yapping about. I admit they're a delectable addition to her dark nipples.

The allure of tequila entices me, tempting me to partake in a risky challenge with Amel. However, I'm still sober enough to recognize the potential consequences. Engaging in a sexual favor for my ex, even if it's just a playful dare, could lead to a multitude of explicit possibilities. While that may be true, I can't ignore the fact that I'm only wearing my underwear. If I were to remove my bra, the excellent draft permeating the house would playfully tease my nipples and ignite extinguished desires. Removing my thong is also off the table. Ms. QuiQui has left me sitting in a puddle. Shedding my panties would unleash a torrential flood, putting my friends in the dangerous path of Hurricane Cierre.

As Yeli awaits my answer, Kerani whispers into her ear, covering her mouth as if divulging a diabolical plan. When the model retreats, an elvish giggle emits from the architect. Insidious smirks take form on their faces. No matter my choice, I'm fucked—and probably getting fucked. I let go and let God. The responsible version of me will handle the aftermath.

"Dare," I answer.

Under her kinky afro, Yeli's face forms an adorable pout. "Aw, I kind of wanted to see your titties."

"Maybe later," I tease. Von halts his beard stroking and casts a steely glance between me and his wife. He's in the rare echelon of straight men who don't fantasize about their partners messing with other women. The couple has a strong sense of ownership over one another, matching their devoted faithfulness. Before I get Yeli into trouble, I add, "Just kidding, Voni." My cute nickname saves me from getting cursed out.

"Cool it, grizzly bear." Yeli soothes her husband, running her nails through his bushy beard. Once she regards me again, she begins stating her dare but laughs like an undisciplined child before going into specifics. She peeks at Kerani, questioning whether she should proceed. Her conspirator nods firmly, tucking her lips. With a slow and challenging tone, Yeli prompts, "I dare you... to give Meli a lap dance."

Jaws drops, followed by a symphony of amused shouts. I figured Rani and Yeli were plotting against me, instigating a flirty interaction between me and Amel. But a lap dance? I could pop my booty in my sleep! Amidst the ruckus, I turn towards Amel, who's squinting as she observes everyone's entertained reactions. "Mane, y'all are weirdos," she says.