Definetly something ...

As you enter the living room, your eyes istantly search for Tom and Miranda there where you left them.
The back of the douche's head is still there.
His nape sticking out of the couch which you steadily circumvent alongside with the column that ideally separates the living room in two zones, couch & tv zone, with its small downstep on one side, and dining & open bar area, with its window wall facing the garden on the other.

A feeble rustling locates Miranda somewhere behind the couch, hidden to your sight, which is not a surprise, still you hurry your steps preceeding the others.

You almost stumble in the carpet when you finally see her.
Instead of where you left her and where you did expect her to still be, kneeled in front of him, she now laying on the couch next to him, or to be more accurate onto him.
And she's shirtless.
For a split second you can't belive your own eyes, and you stop right where you are out, of the spotlight.

You follow the curve of her naked belly up to her black bra.
Tom's cock, towers a few inches from her face, thick and veiny more than you remember, both her shapely, and awfully tiny in comparison, hands wrapped around it.

Her eyes meet yours and suddenly a wave of colour fills her cheeks.
Your incredulity quickly turns into anger when you notice Tom's hand nochalatly cupping one her breasts.

"Hand's off, asshole!" You growl taking a step in their direction, but Miranda's suddend change of expression disorients you.

Tom's shakes himself form his seeming numbness and is now staring at you interrogatively.

"What's happening here?" Inquires Sarah from behind you.

"He's taking liberties ..." You turn back to reply bitterly, glancing over to Miranda.

"He's not ... I mean, I'm ok with it..."

Her reply cuts your breath.

"Why are you shirtless?" Chimes in Nicole dumbfounded.

"I was hot ..."

No, she's not fooling you. The douche must have **** her in some way.
You look at him and you would really like to have some kind of telekinesis super-power just for once, so that you could pop his head off like a balloon.

"Hey, don't stare at me like that, dude. It was her own idea ..." Shrugs Tom before giving a good squeeze at Miranda that causes her to flich and sigh involutarily.

"Hmpf, bullshit!" You mutter meeting again Miranda's eyes, openly hostile this time.

"It's true, ok? Can we please go on with the game?"

Again her words hit you like a jab, right in your face.

"H-Hey, I don't give a damn, really, just don't expect me to take this crap, ok? Why would she want to take off her top? What did you tell her?" You manage to babble addressing him instead of her.

"God, John ... it really was my idea!"

"I suppose she thought she could get me off faster like that, which is quite true..." Replies Tom in a groan that shift your focus back on Miranda's steadfast hands.

Apparently she's just changed her pace and put a bit more spit on her hand, casusing Tom to tilt his head back and close his eyes.
Talking with him like that, while she jerks his cock shamelessly, is more embarassing than you would like (and you must admit kind of humiliating too ...), so that ends up inhibiting your reply.
You can't help but wonder if this was exactly her purpose ...

"Hey dude, here's your beer." Chimes in Matt.

"Shall we resume the game then?" Asks Sarah.