A Former Friend

James's faces contorted in disbelief as he spluttered out "R-Richard is th-that you?"

"About time you figured it out, though you can call me Richie" the redhead teased in a sultry tone, her, glossed lips curling into that familiar smirk James had seen a thousand times in locker rooms and late-night poker games. James' stomach lurched as his gaze traced the delicate latex choker that now adorned Richie's throat, the way it drew attention to an Adam's apple that had somehow been softened by hormones or clever contouring.

The latex minidress clung to curves that shouldn't exist, riding up muscled thighs that had once powered through rugby tackles as Danni's painted nails, Christ, were those acrylics?, dug into them now.

James' fingers dug into the peeling wallpaper as Richies's words slithered into his ears. The redhead, no, Richie arched a perfectly plucked brow, their glossy lips glistening under the pink neon glow. Danni remained on her knees between Richie's latex-sheathed thighs, making soft, wet sounds that filled the hallway.

"How?" James choked out, his throat dry.