Lean into it to control the narrative

I let go of Aaron's hand immediately, but it's too late. My friends, and their cameraphones, have seen enough, and likely already heard more than enough.

Aaron receives pats on the back, playful punches on the arm, and general goodwill from his male peers. On the other hand, the girls just look at me, hands over their mouths, or with condescending sneers, whispering to each other and snickering.

As I tried to tell Aaron, it's different for girls.

I wish I knew just how bad the situation is. From the general vibe in the air it's clear they heard enough to know we were having sex in there, but how much did they hear exactly? How long have they been gathered here, silently listening to our wanton and shameless coitus? Since the start?

This is a landmark moment, I know. My reputation has been irrevocably altered from a prim-and-proper lady to a casual hook-up. Photos and video snippets of me and Aaron leaving my room, my hair disheveled and our skin sweaty, are being uploaded to Snapchat at this very instant.

There's no keeping secrets any more for us Zoomers, in the age of social media.

How the hell do I mitigate the damage from this?!

Roll with it. A small voice inside my head suggests to me. You can't deny it, so you have to control the narrative by leaning into it.

Is that my genuine thought, or is that the magic of the gem ladies app implanting suggestions in my mind? It doesn't sound like me, but it also makes a whole lot of sense. What else can I do?

I flip a playful middle finger to the cameraphones and **** a wry smile, hoping it doesn't look too fake.

Wait... Something I should have checked first... Are my family up here?!

I scan the throng of people squashed into our upper landing. Mum and dad definitely aren't here - they must be outside in the garden. Phew. Oh... But over there by the door to his room... Is Steven.

Our eyes connect for a heartbeat, and then he lowers his gaze. He opens the door to his room and slips inside.

Okay, yep, that's my next destination. I need to convince him not to tell my parents, or I'll be grounded for life.

Trying to keep a pleasant expression on my face, I squeeze through the crowd towards my brother's bedroom.

"Piss off and enjoy the party!" I yell to them playfully. There's another cheer, and the somewhat disarmed voyeurs begin to disperse. They are fuelled by scandal, and if I don't appear ashamed, there's less of a show to stay and watch. They must be a bit bemused that the Goodie-Two-Shoes Christian girl has suddenly turned out to be just another slut, but it's also not the first time two 18 year olds have had sex at a party.

I slide into Steven's room and shut the door behind me, glad to be out of the public eye. He is sitting on his bed scrolling down some feed or another on his phone, but I can tell he's not really properly reading anything.

"Please don't tell mum and dad." I say plainly. Perhaps I should have been more coy about the reason I came here, but what other reasons could there be?

"Oh. That's what you want." He says glumly.

"I... What else would I want?"

"Never mind. Are you okay, sis?" He sounds genuinely concerned, and a bit like he already knows the answer is no.

I gulp. Should I... Should I try and communicate my situation to him? What will the app let me get away with? I've got to try.

"No." I begin. "I'm-" being controlled. Being manipulated. Being changed. The magic won't let me say any of those things. I'm going to have to be more clever.

"I'm changing. I'm changing fast. And I-" don't want to. "I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" He asks.

"My reputation. My-" sanity. "My self-control."

"Dawn, we all have feelings we struggle to control. I'm not saying you shouldn't be who you want to be, but of course there's consequences to every action."

"I know that. That's why I'm try to-" stop "hold back. But it's-" impossible "hard."

"There's places you can go to, you know, if you're struggling with certain types of... Addiction." He offers.

"No, that won't work for me! I'm asking for your help! I need you to understand what I'm really trying to tell you, that there's something I want you to know but, I'm-" not allowed!

The app once again prevents me from completing my sentence, but this time, from Steven's perspective, it looks like something else has stopped me. All of a sudden, my pussy lets out a nasty queef as some air escapes, and along with it, a huge of semen splatters down to the floorboards.

Luckily for both of us, his bedroom isn't carpeted, otherwise that would not be nice to clean up. Still, it's mortifying. You can't blame me for not realising it might come out like this - this is the first time I've ever had sex, never mind let someone cum inside me. But did I really not even think to stop and put a pair of knickers on before leaving my room? What is wrong with me?! Imagine if this had happened in the hallway outside with all those people watching, and all those cameras on me. I'd have had to just run away and become a nun, and never speak to my friends or family again.

Steven is turning just as bright red as I am. I don't blame him, this is a lot for him to process.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry." I whimper, and drop to my knee, intending to wipe it up. Of course it would probably be useful if I had something to use to mop it up, wouldn't it.

Big bro has hastily gotten to his feet and grabbed the box of tissues from his desk. He wordlessly brings them over to me, and looking away, hands them down to me. He wants this awkward moment to be over just as much as I do.

Unfortunately, with him standing over me, holding the tissue box at his waist height, when I go to take a tissue, I can't help but notice the bump at the front of his trousers.