Mr. Sinclair wants some alone time

"Next time, Maurice," Mr. Sinclair says. Nicole's relief was complicated. If she were on a desert island and had to choose between Mr. Sinclair and Maurice based on looks alone, she'd likely choose Maurice. However, her desire to be tag teamed by two men older than her grandfather was even lower than being with Mr. Sinclair. At least, she was pretty sure, because she couldn't deny she wasn't feeling some excitement as the horrors of the rest of the night got closer.

"Naw, it's okay, Sammy, you need this and I'm guessing she does, too. You kids have fun," Maurice says and grabs his coat and hat off the rack. He heads out into the night, leaving Nicole alone with Mr. Sinclair.

"Why don't you clean up the table and work on dishes?" he says, standing up and grabbing the lump in his silky pajama pants. "I'm going to take Jimmy Beard into the bedroom and inspire him while we wait for the blue pill to rev him up."

So many of the words coming out of Mr. Sinclair's mouth were confusing. Did he call his dick 'Jimmy Beard'? And was he suggesting he was on Viagra? She guessed that made sense at his age. What most shocked her was that he wanted her to clean up. "I'm sorry, Sam; you want me to do the dishes?"

He smiles. "Yes, sweetie, Grampy needs some alone time before he can ensure you're well taken care of. Now, hop to it. I probably need about 20 minutes."

He walks away and down the hall. Nicole is momentarily paralyzed. She could leave. The door was right there. The worst thing that would happen is she wouldn't get any more fancy dinners and would need to deal with Mr. Sinclair's disappointed looks when they passed around the complex. That was a low cost in the scheme of things. There was also her Discord group. They had expectations. She thought about how impressed they'd be for going through with it. Well, most of them. She was sure the more reasonable members would disapprove.

Nicole finds herself starting to clean up the table. She moves the dishes into the kitchen and begins to wash them. "You can still go," she whispers to herself at least once as if saying it out loud will make her go. But the free use reality desire starts to take over. Huck, Vincent, Mr. Sinclair. Three men she would have never considered. That's what it would be like in a real free use world. It was gross on many levels, but that made it even more thrilling. She couldn't leave because the fantasy free use world required her to stay. She had to service this old man because that was her role.

Or did she? Maybe Huck was enough. Maybe the shame of blowing off Mr. Sinclair would be better than the shame of seeing him and knowing she had slept with him. Nicole looks at the front door.